Miryong Cha, Pianist in Review

Miryong Cha, Pianist in Review

Miryong Cha, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 23, 2015

In the highly competitive field of classical music, it is a significant achievement to earn one’s major degrees in piano at a prominent conservatory such as the Manhattan School of Music and to top things off with a Doctor of Musical Arts degree from an established school such as Rutgers. These credentials, plus some awards, concerts, and two teaching posts in Korea, were listed in the program biography of Miryong Cha, who performed last week in her New York Recital Debut.

One might assume that any young performer having studied with some highly respected teachers and passing such hurdles, has probably had his or her devotion to music tested thoroughly – the faint of heart do not easily pass jury exams and test recitals (let alone competitions) without determination and love of the craft. Actual concerts, presumably with unfettered choices of repertoire, are expected to be somewhat easier. It is thus perplexing to witness a recital that feels as much like a trial as did that of Ms. Cha. One wonders whether she was perhaps not feeling well – and the ten-minute wait for her to appear onstage at the beginning seemed to suggest as much. In any case, for unknown reasons, her demeanor and playing projected such a combination of resignation and doom that this listener felt like an unwelcome spectator at a punishment, a tricoteuse by the guillotine.

A work where the gallows bleakness is appropriate is “Le Gibet” the central movement from Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit, and indeed this was fittingly dark in Ms. Cha’s hands – but there were also numerous points in the program where one’s spirit could have soared with the music and it wasn’t happening. The rest of the Ravel set contained some of Ms. Cha’s better playing of the evening, particularly in “Ondine,” though still Ms. Cha favored the “doldrums” aspect of the ocean sounds, tempering all high points. “Scarbo” was unusually slow and lacking in its usual nightmarish intensity.

Despite the fact that Ms. Cha’s biography lists a recent lecture in Korea on the “Stylistic Analysis of Chopin’s 24 Preludes” she seemed skittish about the Chopin. Perhaps when one writes in depth about a work, one can psyche oneself out a bit, though ideally an analysis should deepen one’s interpretations.

The C Major Prelude (marked “Agitato”) was surprisingly slow and cautious (what one might call “practice tempo”), but it still had more than the typical number of errors, particularly in the left hand. No one is perfect, and the best pianists have errors in live performance, but sufficient awareness of the harmony should prevent an excess of these. At first, one chalked things up to nerves, but there developed a growing sense that all had not been prepared with sufficient loving care. Frequent mishaps beset the Preludes in D Major, F-sharp minor, G-sharp minor (which did however have a strong ending), and others. The ferocious B-flat minor Prelude was not quite mastered but was “prettified” with receding climaxes. By contrast, several of the slower Preludes were played disconcertingly briskly, including the A Minor (“Lento”) and the B minor (“Lento Assai”), the latter of which had been chosen for Chopin’s own funeral. There may have been some theory at play that the slow ones need to be played faster and the faster ones, more slowly – one doesn’t know – but if so, the case needed to be made convincing to the listener.

A layman could overlook the misfires in less famous Preludes, but it is hard to conceal harmonic lapses in a work as well known as the E minor Prelude. Many amateurs and students have played this one – along with the A major, B minor and C minor – so finesse is especially important. The A major seemed disturbingly fast, bordering on flippancy, and with some note slips as well. The D-flat Prelude flew by without any projection of the suspensions, so the resolutions felt superfluous as a result.

Some of Ms. Cha’s playing stood out as more successful, such as the F major Prelude, the E major, which enjoyed a deeply resonant bass, and the G major, which showed a solid (if slightly overpowering) left hand. The famously difficult E-flat Prelude was also in the beginning surprisingly clean compared to the others, though some exposed peak notes were missed. Perhaps with time, the entire set will ripen. Again, it is possible that for much of the recital Ms. Cha was in some kind of discomfort, because she seemed to be moving her right shoulder in random gyrations that bore no relation to the music or physical act of playing.

In addition to Chopin and Ravel, Ms. Cha included the lesser-known Fantasy in C minor, K.396, based on two pages of an unfinished Violin Sonata by Mozart, but actually finished as a piano piece by Maximilian Stadler (1748-1833). It was listed as Mozart (as it often has been), but I feel Stadler’s name needs to be there as well. Widely thought to have been an attempt to sell Mozart’s musical scraps as a meal, it is a roughly nine-minute pastiche sounding like C.P.E. Bach thrown into a blender with Mozart, Beethoven, and a dash of Czerny. This hybrid work has attracted many fine pianists including Sofronitzky, Gieseking, Brendel, Kraus, and others, though it takes imagination and power of persuasion to pull it off. It made an interesting addition as a listener sorted out which parts sounded truly Mozartean and which did not, but it never quite rose above the level of that mental exercise.

I do hope to hear Ms. Cha again, hopefully on an evening that reflects better her fine credentials.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia” in Review

Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia” in Review

Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia”
A Concert to Commemorate the 100th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide
Evgeny Kissin, piano; Hover Chamber Choir, Sona Hovhannisyan, Director and Choirmaster
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 26, 2015

 

Just over a week after a full-length solo piano recital at Carnegie Hall (including Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, and Prokofiev), Evgeny Kissin shared a program with the Hover Chamber Choir, an Armenian ensemble, marking the 100th anniversary of the Armenian genocide that started April 24, 1915.

The first half was approximately an hour of unaccompanied choral music from the twenty-five singers under the direction of the Hover Choir’s founder Sona Hovhannisyan, and the second half was all-Chopin in the hands of Mr. Kissin, including the Fantasy in F minor, the Nocturne in F-sharp minor, Op. 48, the Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40 and the Scherzo in B-flat minor. It was a moving occasion, its somber premise illuminated by moments of hope and heroism.

Mr. Kissin is an artist of heroic stature himself, avoiding the gimmicks of so many colleagues, maintaining integrity and the highest standards, and embracing philanthropic pursuits. A giant in the piano world at age 43, he never rests on his laurels but constantly evolves and surprises. On this occasion Mr. Kissin’s choices of repertoire were full of gravitas, and his playing seemed colored by the solemnity of the occasion. The martial opening of the Fantasy in F minor was fittingly sober in matters of tone and tempo, and the same could be said of Chopin’s Nocturne in F-sharp minor and Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40, all with moments of ethereal beauty, but with the careful unfolding of a sage storyteller. There were musical revelations throughout and always a sound that projected singingly, even at pianissimo levels, to the farthest corners of the hall. Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat minor ended his half brilliantly calling for two encores.

One will not soon forget his second encore to this Chopin half-recital, a rendition of Chopin’s “Heroic” Polonaise (Op. 53) that made jaws drop. The speed with which he started the notorious left-hand octaves seemed almost foolhardy at first, but he kept them up with such turbo-charged power and precision that one could only admire. While I’ve always enjoyed Vladimir Horowitz’s more gradual buildup, it was hard to resist this sheer thrill.

Undoubtedly Mr. Kissin could have obliged his clamoring audience with a longer string of encores, as he usually does (one Carnegie performance eliciting twelve), but he showed deference to the solemnity of the occasion by limiting it to two; it was clear that he was not merely a “headliner” for this concert but an artist with a special empathy for the suffering of the Armenian people. His first encore was thus a haunting transcription by Georgy Saradjian of the song “Grounk” (or “Krunk” – “The Crane”) by composer, priest, and patriarch of Armenian music, Komitas Vartapet (1869-1935). Based on a poem by Hovhannes Toumanian (The Crane), this music expresses the desolation of those mourning the loss of their homes, friends, families, and cultural “nest” while the crane returns to his; it is thus a song of great symbolism to the Armenian Diaspora. The audience, including many Armenians, gave thunderous approval, as if a century’s worth of unheard pain were being released through the music.

For around a century, “Armenian Genocide” has met some resistance as a term to describe the brutal massacre by the Ottoman Empire of an estimated 1.5 million Armenians (between 1915 and 1923). The tiptoeing around it, the lumping of it with World War I, and the outright denial of it have taken the Armenian heartbreak to new lows, as have the displaced and ruined lives of victims and their descendants. The facts are stubborn, however, and the former Prime Minister of the Republic of Armenia, Tigran Sargsyan (currently Ambassador of Armenia to the US) was present to introduce the occasion as the anniversary of the “first modern genocide.”

Among the victims of the torment was the abovementioned composer Komitas himself (often referred to without “Vartapet” which was comparable to “Father”). Komitas survived the horrors of 1915 only to live his last twenty years a broken man. His is a gripping story, the telling of which might have deepened the listeners’ experience, but sadly there were no program notes about him – or about any of the Armenian composers presented. This was a woeful omission, especially considering that Armenia has suffered from loss of a voice for so long.

With the exception of the last choral piece Sweet Breeze – a highlight of the program with its wind-like effects– we heard the Komitas works just as he wrote them, a cappella (except for the conductors’ own additions of some bell-like sounds). The program included Folk songs and selections from the Armenian Divine Liturgy. The music, based on monody, was modal and melismatic, sensitively set, and sung with a balanced and luminous sound. In the interest of space, the list of songs will not be included here, but may be seen at the Carnegie Hall event page (Program listing). An hour was perhaps too heavy a dose of similarly textured music for the uninitiated – something to consider if the goal includes furthering Armenian music – but the concert certainly opened some musical doors.

Interspersed were more contemporary Armenian works including the wide-ranging Waterfall Music by Vache Sharafyan (b. 1966), the imaginative Three Portraits of Women (The Rainbow) by Tigran Mansurian (b. 1939), and a fanciful piece, The Little Prince and the Fox by Anna Azizyan.

Sadly, the only program notes given were about internationally renowned Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki (b. 1933), whose “Psalm III dedicated to the Armenian Genocide” was presented in a World Premiere. Mr. Penderecki was expected to be present but could not attend. He missed a moving performance. His Psalm III is a stirring work, full of faith but also of anger, with the text opening, “Lord, how many are my foes!” The Hover Chamber Choir performed it with tremendous expressiveness.

Other works were an interesting free arrangement of “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen” (“Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”) by Jan Sandström (b. 1954) and “Carol”(“Maiden in the mor lay”) by Benjamin Britten (1913-1976). They were beautiful and despite the lack of an explicit connection to Armenia, quite meaningful to this observance.

All in all, despite small issues about programming and the absence of notes, the evening succeeded in its goal of commemorating a grave event in history. Congratulations are in order for the large undertaking. One hopes that it served to further a renaissance of sorts, empowering Armenians to find an ever-greater voice.

 

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Maria Prinz, piano, in Review

Maria Prinz, piano, in Review

Legato Arts presents Maria Prinz, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 18, 2015

Maria Prinz, a Viennese pianist who has been heard with flutists in New York in recent seasons, returned last weekend to perform a solo recital that was in her words, “all about Mozart and Schubert’s Vienna” in the first half, namely Mozart’s Sonata K.330 in C Major and Schubert’s Vier Impromptus, Op. 90. The second half was devoted to Schumann’s Carnaval – and as the pianist noted, though Schumann was not Viennese, the work’s title and subject “have to do with Vienna.” The program promised a musical feast, and so did the set of program notes written by the pianist herself and revealing considerable passion for this music. Starting off with the declaration, “I love Vienna!” Ms. Prinz expressed just the enthusiasm that one wants to see in program notes, rather than mere dry dates and details.

Ms. Prinz’s playing of Mozart showed that she possesses a sure memory, keen harmonic grasp, and a penchant for assertive, stylish, articulations. It also revealed her boldness in taking tempi just a tad slower than one is accustomed to hearing. Her measured tempi were refreshing, as there is much to explore in each phrase of this great work.

Whether the pianist’s explorations were completely successful is a matter of debate, for while her playing was replete with musically interesting ideas – the sorts that make students run to a practice room after a lesson to rethink things – one didn’t always feel that Ms. Prinz followed through on her own demonstrated impulses. For example, while she excelled at demarcating phrases, especially entrances, there was not the same attention to shape and sustained line. One could almost hear the declamatory “here is the main theme!” before it receded, or the hushed “here is an introspective echo” right before it resurged. Occasionally such reservations seemed a matter of digital control – as top “pinky” notes seemed eclipsed by stronger fingers, trills were sometimes labored or uneven, and crescendi seemed to need more gradation – but it seems fairest to assume that a performer is playing a certain way because he chooses to, and not by default, so I will simply say that I did not always grasp Ms. Prinz’s aesthetic.

In some ways, such a style resembles that of harpsichordists at the piano, quite sensitive to varying articulations and precise in attack, but not always fully utilizing the resources of arm weight to maximize a piano’s capacity for flexible “singing lines.” The result is sometimes more brittle than delicate. While this approach is less than ideal in solo playing, it is common enough in collaborations, and in fact Ms. Prinz is a very active collaborator. She arranged Mozart’s Sonatas for flute and piano with her flutist collaborator Patrick Gallois, and the 2013 recording of it is available on Naxos. Incidentally, her discography is growing to include many items of interest, including works of Schulhoff, d’Indy, and Krenek.

Moving on to Schubert, Ms. Prinz again exhibited an intense energy throughout, never “phoning it in.” Her notes stated that each Impromptu is a “musical jewel” – and this reviewer agrees! The C minor Impromptu was a treasure chest of ideas – again some left unfulfilled but still memorable. The E-flat Impromptu was effective overall, with polished pearling runs over a sure left hand in its outer sections. Only the middle section disappointed, with the repeated triplets becoming overly insistent to overpower more melodic lines. Once again, though, there was always a conscious quality that provokes thought.

The much-loved G-flat Major Impromptu, along with being a gem, is a good litmus test for tonal control issues (though again we do not know what the pianist intended); in any case, the lower accompanying figures tended to overwhelm the outer lines yet again. It is possible that it was a case of deliberately championing the “underdog” underlying harmonies, but in this listener’s experience, the most transporting performances give a sense of those harmonies without their being too pronounced – like a person whose presence is felt without asserting a dominating voice.

The final Impromptu in A-flat closed the set and the first half well, showing admirable lightness in the cascading right hand. While I did not agree musically with the pronounced accent at the foot of each descent, it was an interesting interpretation leading one to look forward to the second half.

Carnaval, in the recital’s second half, had much to admire. Here, by necessity, Ms. Prinz took a much freer approach, physically and musically, and explored a much wider range of dynamics – and the approach suited her. Unafraid to take Schumann’s eccentric fluctuations of tempo to extremes, even with some accompanying risk-taking, Ms. Prinz showed an imaginative grasp of Schumann’s fanciful cast of characters. Her Pierrot movement showed good humor, and her Eusebius had the most persuasive singing lines in the whole recital. Occasionally things got a bit too hectic (particularly the Paganini section), but it was refreshing to see this pianist cast caution to the winds. The close was a wonderful stomping march against the Philistines, a strong finish that left the happy audience clapping in rhythm. Encores were Chopin’s “Black Key” Etude in G-flat, from Op. 10, and Träumerei from Schumann’s Kinderszenen.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert in Review

The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert in Review

The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert
Sven Stucke, violin; Johann Blanchard, piano
St. Peter’s Church, New York, NY
April 11, 2015

 

In celebration of the 25th Anniversary of the German Reunification, W&T Arts Promotion presented a moving and informative evening of film and music that was, by virtue of its very historical background, far from celebratory until the very end. Recounting the division of Germany, heartbreaking separations of loved ones, struggles of the East Germans that included oppression, failed efforts to escape, and death, the chief rays of hope were US contributions and the Berlin Airlift – that is, until the film’s apotheosis, the final reunification of the nation. It was all an important reminder of the mistakes and horrors the world must avoid.

As described on the presenter’s website, the event combined “exclusive digital exhibition materials provided by Stiftung Gedenkstätten Sachsen-Anhalt with carefully programmed live music to replicate a neo-silent film experience.” The term “silent film” was not quite accurate (hence the prefix “neo” I suppose), because there were some spoken interviews in the film while live music was being performed (not so respectful to the music, in my opinion); in many respects, however, the stated mission of the presenters was successful, that is, to tell this tragic but ultimately triumphant chapter in the world’s history.

Assigned as a music reviewer, I was prepared to focus on the two German musicians, violinist Sven Stucke with pianist Johann Blanchard, and some accompanying atmospheric film footage, but the evening, as I suggested, turned out to be more about the film. Such events are not the ideal forum for reviewing musicians, but both performers acquitted themselves of the task remarkably well.

 

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Substantial text on the history was projected onto one wall with dramatic images, which directed one’s attention largely away from these two engaging musicians, so the effect was that of a soundtrack heard live, probably not quite the best use of the talents that these classical musicians have honed. With apologies to The Buggles, the evening brought to mind the famous song “Video Killed the Radio Star” – in a classical context. Each musical work was chosen to flow seamlessly into the next (with no introductions or pauses), but a measure of musical integrity was sacrificed in the process, despite much superb playing. Perhaps it also didn’t help that I happened to sit just between the musicians and the wall on which the film turned out to be projected – a whiplash-inducing situation which forced a choice between performers and film as a focus. Some misspellings and unidiomatic English (in captions and text) required several readings of various parts, so that even less attention was left for these fine musicians.

The musical aspect suffered some of its own compromises as well. The very first musical selections were excerpts from Vitali’s Chaconne in G Minor and Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1. One had barely heard what seemed like a few moments of the Chaconne from Mr. Stucke, an excellent violinist, when it was time to move on to the Bruch, again an excerpt – and with piano reduction. Even in a composer’s arrangement and with an expert collaborator in Mr. Blanchard, such a reading is not as fulfilling as one with an orchestra, and any experienced musician cannot help comparing.

Playing-wise, Mr. Stucke displayed effortless precision in his intonation and intense expressiveness. In addition, he showed impressive stamina, playing for around ninety minutes straight, with almost no rest, though he did have a two-minute break while the pianist played “Von fremden Ländern und Menschen” from Schumann’s Kinderszenen – very sensitively, one should add. In other words, Mr. Stucke played what amounted to a generous full-length violin recital, but with no intermission, a demanding feat, for which a performer might expect to reap big artistic rewards. Instead, the program resembled a musical “potluck” in service to a documentary. Let there be no mistake – this evening was indeed informative, the marking of this anniversary was extremely important, and the footage used was quite moving. It just seems that, if the presenter of it is also the manager of these two artists (as it appears from the website), more caution needs to be taken with their art.

The pianist Mr. Blanchard matched the violinist in outlays of energy, though occasionally I found him overly deferential to the violin part. He is a skillful and versatile musician who has ample credentials, including a recently recorded CD of the music of Chaminade.

The program continued with two Shostakovich Preludes (Op. 34, No. 10 and 24), plus the Perpetuum Mobile from Ravel’s Violin Sonata No. 2, and selections from Dvořák’s Four Romantic Pieces, Op. 75. All were played well, to complement scenes that shifted from mournful to frenzied, from nostalgic to diabolic. The inclusion of Devil’s Dance, by John Williams, was an effective touch. Perhaps the use of more such film music would strike musicians in the audience as less of a compromise than a pastiche of concert excerpts.

The largest share of the program went to music by Lera Auerbach, a composer I greatly admire. Two Preludes were selected from Op. 46 (Nos. 15 and 16) and the Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano, Op. 63, followed. At one point during extremely bleak and quiet music, a voice in the film burst forth loudly completely breaking the spell, but the pieces were nonetheless hauntingly played. There were several such cases where the synchronization seemed awry somehow.

The Sonata, which is subtitled September 11, was powerful in evoking tragedy and devastation, albeit from a different source and point in history than East Germany’s. I hope to hear it performed live all over again, but with my own imagined (and unfortunately remembered) “footage.”

Poulenc’s Sonata, FP 119, was the last large work and was also a successful collaboration between pianist and violinist. Again, one would like to hear the duo perform it without the accompanying mental exercise of wondering how this or that was meant to fit with the film. In any case the duo should perform it often.

The program concluded with– what else? – Beethoven’s Ode to Joy in a Blanchard/Stucke arrangement. It is a hard thing to pull off the nobility and scope of this symphonic movement without a full orchestra, but the duo coped well, starting softly and slowly before bursting into a pyrotechnic Paganini-esque display. There were quite a few “un-Beethovenian” sounds in the ramped up violin part, and the piano part sounded somewhat improvised – probably another ad hoc element on this program – but it all built to enough of a climax to close the program with spirit.

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Pianist in Review

Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Pianist in Review

Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Piano
Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 24, 2015

An engaging evening of piano music entitled “Two in One” started appropriately this week with an enchanting miniature entitled Snowdrop (2015) suggesting the beauty of this time of year, transitions and contrasts between winter and spring, and as the program notes describe, “despair and hope.” Written for this evening’s pianist, Sookkyung Cho, by composer Yui Kitamura (b. 1983 – also the Artistic Director of MuSE), it was given a sensitive and imaginative reading. Evoking the melting of ice under gently streaming treble figurations, the work is characterized by a winsome tonal lyricism that brought to mind the music of Norman Dello Joio, while always possessing an individual voice. It was an auspicious start to the program.

On to the weightier works, Ms. Cho proved herself to be more than up to handling the challenges in Schumann’s sprawling Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6, and more. Ms. Cho is, not surprisingly, the winner of a slew of awards and honors, including from The Juilliard School where she received her Bachelor of Music and DMA degrees, and from The Peabody Institute (MM). She demonstrates a keen intelligence, strong technical command, and impressive stamina, with a physical approach that is strong but undemonstrative. There was much to commend about each of the eighteen character pieces, which alternately conveyed Schumann’s contrasting sides of the spirited Florestan and introverted Eusebius (both part of the “Band of David” to which the title refers – and both in keeping with this concert’s duality theme). The performances were taut, polished, and respectful to the score, with only the occasional fingerfehler. They showed almost no excess (except the rare overly resonant bass line, perhaps due to the piano) and virtually no self-indulgence, so there was not an instant when one would say that the performer’s ego got in the way; on the flip-side, though, one sometimes wanted more individual intimacy and abandon. After all, this set was composed while Schumann was in the throes of longing for his love, Clara, and it contains some of the most vivid and moving music of the Romantic period.

After intermission, Ms. Cho played C.P.E Bach’s Fantasia in F-sharp minor, Wq67, a rather underplayed and intriguing work, and a perfect dramatic and historical pairing with the next, Beethoven’s 32 Variations on an Original Theme in C Minor, WoO 80. In a way, the evening’s theme of duality, or as the program notes framed it, “dialectic in music,” could be plausibly applied to countless works and programs, but it did make a viable “hook” on which to hang these works for those needing more than simply an evening of great works. The best “hook” is always good playing, and we enjoyed a good measure of it, but the premise for the inclusion of this Beethoven work was that it has “an extremely regular bass line with free florid lines in his variations.” That was certainly clear in Ms. Cho’s able hands, with only small lapses.

As part of a Korean-Western duality, two selections from Three Korean Minyo (2014) by Teddy Niedermaier (b. 1983) were presented as a New York Premiere. They were a highlight of the evening. We heard the songful “Bluebird, Bluebird” and the rather jazzy “Song of the Roasted Chestnuts” – both folk song transcriptions full of character and color. Ms. Cho showed the most involvement of the evening in these, and the pieces sprung to life in winning performances.

The program concluded with Liszt’s Après une Lecture de Dante, Fantasia quasi Sonata, to adhere to the theme of the program, the quintessential Romantic battle of light and dark. For many pianists it is also a battle to navigate through torrents of octaves, but there were no such problems for Ms. Cho, who concluded the evening with brilliance.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London LLC presents Carlo Grante, Piano
Masters of High Romanticism – Concert II: Schumann – The Piano Sonatas,
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center New York, NY
December 15, 2014
 

Italian pianist Carlo Grante is a musician of superabundant gifts. Possessing a discography of over fifty CD recordings, he is much more than a recording artist, demonstrating such thorough pianistic mastery onstage that, if his concerts were recorded straight to disc, one would be hard pressed to think of a single spot to edit. He is unflappable in the face of tremendous technical, musical, and intellectual challenges, reminding this reviewer in many ways of Marc-André Hamelin, but with a mellower persona. While Mr. Grante’s weighty program of Schumann Piano Sonatas at Alice Tully Hall perhaps precluded glimpses of the lighter showmanship aspect of Mr. Hamelin, Mr. Grante’s prodigious skills are certainly comparable, and that says a lot.

Incidentally, these two pianists, in conjunction with their Godowsky recordings, were first linked in many minds with the exposure of the now infamous Joyce Hatto recording fraud in 2007, through which their work was appropriated. Though Ms. Hatto was described in the Boston Globe as “the greatest living pianist that almost no one has ever heard of,” she had in fact been wrongfully credited with recordings by numerous other pianists, including Mr. Grante and Mr. Hamelin. If turnabout is fair play, Mr. Grante could thus perhaps have been described as one of “the greatest living pianists that almost no one has ever heard of” – except that we have now heard of him, and for good reason, with a career that has been on quite a roll.

As part of a three-concert solo series entitled “Masters of High Romanticism” Mr. Grante brings to this Lincoln Center season the complete Ballades and Scherzi of Chopin (reviewed in this journal-Carlo Grante Review 10/31/14 ), his recent complete Piano Sonatas of Schumann, and, yet to come, Variations of Brahms (February 10, 2015- not to be missed). This series is no mean feat and is bookended by other concerts including fistfuls more of – you guessed it – Godowsky, plus more Chopin and a brand new work by Bruce Adolphe.

While expectations were quite high for this all-Schumann program, and the pianist was in flawless form, this reviewer will confess to a bit of a growing bias against “survey” programs, and this recital reinforced the feeling. While it was interesting to hear the three Sonatas in a row, Op. 11 in F-sharp minor from 1835, Op. 14 in F minor from 1836/1853, and the Op. 22 in G minor from 1833-38, binge listening does not seem the ideal way to experience these works. The idiosyncratic Schumann tends to undercut himself when heard in large quantities, especially when all is grappling within versions of Sonata form, so while it was a fascinating journey in the name of thoroughness and scholarship (reflected well in Mr. Grante’s own thoughtful program notes), one might have enjoyed more of the quirkiness, the intimacy, and the multiplicity that are so quintessentially Schumann, had one included one of the sets such as Kreisleriana or Davidsbündlertänze. Schumann did display manic swings in the Sonatas, but one missed much of the extremely free musical expressiveness that lives in so many of the composer’s other works. If this was to be a traversal of Schumann within the framework of “High Romanticism” perhaps the choice of sonatas from essentially one decade was not ideal. One craved more of the Florestan-Eusebius duality in Mr. Grante’s sane and cerebral renderings. Mr. Grante’s modest demeanor is refreshing for such a powerhouse, but he might have benefited at times from a more demonstrative approach. One eagerly awaits his Brahms on the basis of his tremendous control, effortless technique, and keen musical mind.

His Schumann was in each case, as mentioned before, immaculate, with no hint of technical strain in the large swaths of musical texture. Sections that often seem sprawling and unwieldy were kept well in hand. Mr. Grante recorded these works years ago, and the familiarity shows. A minor grievance was some excessive blurring, which may have been attributable to the acoustics in conjunction with the instrument.

The highest points artistically for me were in the F Minor and F-sharp minor Sonatas – especially the Aria movement of the latter. Oddly, though, the performance of the more accessible and popular G Minor Sonata will not linger in memory with as much luster. Perhaps, because it stands more easily on its own, it was left to do just that, with less energy in the projection. Its Andantino, which I consider a movement of great transcendental beauty, just missed being the dream that it can be. Of course, one’s preferences can grow rather set with a lifetime of hearing (and playing) such favorites.

All in all it was a fascinating evening, an unusual program from a fine pianist whom I hope to hear again soon.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents Charlie Albright in Review

Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents Charlie Albright in Review

 
Charlie Albright, Piano
Subculture, Arts Underground, New York, NY
November 20, 2014
 

Charlie Albright is a pianist whose name music-lovers will be hearing more and more. Winner of a slew of awards, most prominently a 2014 Avery Fisher Career Grant, Mr. Albright is now in the company of classical musicians who have become household names (given a classically oriented household anyway) – Ursula Oppens, Richard Stoltzman, Joshua Bell, Hillary Hahn, Yuja Wang, and many others who have made their marks. Mr. Albright will undoubtedly lend his own additional distinction to this already illustrious group.

As there are no applications for the Avery Fisher Career Grant (only recommendation by a board), the awardees must naturally have sufficient careers to be noticed, so some view the award as more of an honorary plum than an early boost. For the early boost, big kudos are due to the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation’s New York International Piano Competition (NYIPC), which awarded their First Prize in 2006 to the then seventeen-year-old Mr. Albright; they are a rare competition that follows up on their laureates, and eight years later they presented him in this concert, an evening not to be forgotten.

The program was, as Mr. Albright described from the stage, made of “familiar and less familiar” works. The more familiar included Beethoven’s Sonata in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 2, Quasi una fantasia (the “Moonlight”), though, as the pianist noted in his informal comments from the stage, it is so famous that it has become almost “infamous” and is relatively underperformed today. It was good to hear this work in its entirety, live, and not massacred by a teenager as it so often is. Mr. Albright took a sprawling, leisurely tempo for the first movement, a challenge to sustain, but he held the audience’s unwavering attention. I was initially concerned about the casual feel of this rather trendy venue (with a bar adjoining and listeners quickly finishing drinks before start time), but I was quickly reassured. Blue lighting set a peaceful atmosphere for the capacity audience of avid listeners, and one could hear the proverbial pin drop. I began to see “what the fuss is all about” with this venue. Classical concert life is evolving in interesting directions, and the attempts to modernize it are interestingly bringing it back to the warm intimacy one associates with nineteenth century salons. What was old is new again. Beethoven, for one, felt new, because as casual as Mr. Albright was in his stage style and commentary, he was equally intense in his high-powered performances. The finale of this 1801 work took on the fire of the master’s Op. 57 or 111. It was brilliant, precise, and powerful.

Janácek’s Piano Sonata 1.X.1905 (“From the Street”) may have been meant to be among the “less familiar” but has been programmed increasingly in the last decade or so, so I’ve heard it no fewer than six times live in the past few years; it is always, however, a revelation. Mr. Albright chose to take dynamic markings to extremes more than I’ve heard in the first movement (especially left hand phrases, even though marked in the score as strong). The exaggeration was striking, although not always completely convincing to me.

The despair inherent in the Janácek was dispelled by Chopin’s well-known Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise Brillante, Op. 22. Mr. Albright projected the opening phrases with limpid delicacy and took the ensuing Polonaise by storm. It was a joyous romp, untroubled by petty concerns, free and full of whimsy and yet cohesive, which it often is not. The way Chopin dovetails delicate cadences with bursts of virtuoso energy is enough to cause a good musician the emotional equivalent of whiplash, but Mr. Albright steered things gracefully always, appearing to have fun all the way. In fact, throughout the entire evening, he displayed a joy in playing that was utterly infectious. He disarms jaded concertgoers with an openness and humility that for some reason we are not prepared to expect of one who earned simultaneous degrees in Economics (Harvard), and Pre-Med (Harvard), while studying for a Master of Music degree the following year (New England Conservatory). Clearly not wanting for “gray matter” Mr. Albright brings a vibrant spirit and limitless range to his performances. He possesses the kind of intellect that doesn’t stop growing and will no doubt continue to surprise as his career progresses. I’ll be looking forward to following him.

The second half consisted of the twelve Chopin Etudes, Op. 25, continuing to exploit this pianist’s nearly effortless technique while reflecting sensitivity and imagination. Mr. Albright offered a thumbnail description of each Etude (a nice touch along with the fine program notes), adding a healthy dose of humor. He peppered his comments on the first one (“Aeolian Harp”) with references to “that thingy” the harpist does and drew appreciative laughter, but then played it with sincerity and mastery. He described Chopin’s F Major Etude as resembling galloping horses (though adding, “not quite ‘Gangnam Style'”) and his playing followed through with tremendous spirit and interesting voicing surprises. The A Minor Etude, Op. 25, No. 4 he likened to “target practice” – and anyone who has played it would have to agree – but Mr. Albright is an able marksman and fared well. The E minor (which he likened to a “drunk guy” in the opening section) included some of his most inspired playing, replete with playful pauses, creative accentuations, and interesting voicing (if some vanishing right hand passagework in its central section). The B minor Etude in octaves (No. 10) was too fast and rough for my liking but it was certainly effective in building blizzard-like effects, and the central B Major section was ethereal. The Etude No. 11 (“Winter Wind”), was, as they say, “as good as it gets” – and so was No. 12 (“The Ocean”), which started more softly than one usually hears, a good decision (despite markings) when pacing so many Etudes in a row.

A highlight of the evening was the first encore, Mr. Albright’s own improvisation on notes provided by the audience – in this case, B-flat, C, E-flat and A. He looked unfazed by the first three suggested notes, but the fourth offering was apparently bad news, prompting a grimace and an “oh, boy … we’ll talk after the concert.” The improvisation was nonetheless spectacular, and the spontaneity, even with stylistic similarity to Chopin and Rachmaninoff, kept one on the edge of one’s seat. If the music world is worried about the widening chasm between audience and performer, Mr. Albright is just the answer, especially with this improvisatory element. While I can’t say I agreed with every interpretation by this pianist, especially the occasional roughness that sometimes comes with “going for broke,” the improvisation alone was worth the trip, and the program offered much to love.

A second encore, the Mozart-Volodos Rondo alla Turca (with some Albright additions?) was perhaps a bit “too much of a good thing” but one must allow a mid-twenties artist his exuberance. It seemed that a broken string was adding to the clangor, the Steinway’s own contribution to the Turkish Janissary band. Bravo – and encore!

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Sang Woo Kang, Pianist in Review

Sang Woo Kang, Pianist in Review

Sang Woo Kang, Piano
Lang Recital Hall, Hunter College, New York, NY
October 16, 2014

Pianist Sang Woo Kang, Chair of the Music Department and Associate Professor of Piano at Providence College, was invited by Hunter College to perform a recital last February (preceded by a master class), but the powers that be had the good sense to postpone it to October due to a blizzard. Having just heard Dr. Kang’s recital, this reviewer can safely say it would have been a shame to limit the audience to one or two intrepid Arctic explorers; in fact, one wished for a still larger audience than there was this month. As hard as such postponements can be, Dr. Kang was razor-sharp in his performances.

On the program were two highly rigorous works of the twentieth-century repertoire, John Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy (1976) and the same composer’s Beethoven-inspired Fantasia on an Ostinato (1985). The latter, commissioned by the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, opened the program. As Mr. Corigliano notes at his website, “I decided that I could investigate the performers’ imagination and musicality … And so I constructed the beginning and end of Fantasia on an Ostinato precisely– the work was a giant arch built upon these foundations– but I made the large central section a series of interlocking repeated patterns: the performer decided the number and, to a certain extent, the character of these repetitions. In other words, the shape was his/hers to build. Interestingly, the duration of this piece varied from 7 minutes to over 20 in the Cliburn performances!”

This reviewer apologizes for not timing Dr. Kang’s version, but it is a good sign that all mindfulness of time was lost in his atmospheric, poetic rendition. Musical material from the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony was heard from a twentieth-century viewpoint that was haunting, almost post-apocalyptic in feeling. Dr. Kang made sensitive choices in repetition and dynamics in the middle section to maximize this quality.

The choice of Mozart’s Sonata in C Major, K. 330 to follow was a dramatic and effective one – transitioning from later classical material in a modern, somewhat minimalist, vein to an earlier classicism in which Mozart’s clarity and symmetry stood out in bright contrast. Despite this contrast, Dr. Kang’s Mozart projected an almost Beethovenian style at crucial junctures (surely part of the intended point), and all was more robust in tone than what I normally hear. While I’m not a fan of the porcelain doll delicacy one sometimes hears in Mozart keyboard works, moments were a bit too muscular even for my taste, but there was never any question of Dr. Kang’s pianistic abilities. He has recorded Mozart recently for Naxos, for those wishing to sample his interpretations.

Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy -really five etudes rolled into one- followed. Five sections are devoted respectively to Left Hand, Legato, Fifths to Thirds, Ornaments, and Melody – and they all present formidable challenges. Dr. Kang made child’s play of them, even the first, which exploited his sledgehammer-strong left-hand technique. As a strong admirer of Corigliano, I’ve been very familiar with these works, but I must say, they still need to be performed more, and Dr. Kang has just the kind of strong pianism and keen analytical abilities to do it. He was fearless and solid in his approach. As director of the Piano Institute and Seminar at the Atlantic Music Festival at Colby College, a series focused on the promotion and performance of new music, he has made a substantial commitment in this area, so thanks to him there will be some very fortunate composers out there.

I was puzzled by a few interpretive decisions, including the opting for such a full sound at the close of the Etude No. 3 contrary to markings, but, then again, good contrast was established for the successive movement, entitled Ornaments. The entire work was performed from memory, a challenge in and of itself (in contrast with the Fantasia). Clearly, aside from what seemed a minor omission in the fifth movement, Dr. Kang has absorbed and internalized these complex works in meaningful ways. One wished there had been some chance to hear more of his thoughts on the works, as there were no program notes (or even dates of works on the program), but his comments were cursory. I would love to have heard, for example, any thoughts behind this interesting programming itself.

What I appreciated about the program itself was that, with two substantial Corigliano works opening each half, the standard repertoire that followed felt utterly transformed by what preceded. The lacerating dissonance of Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy lent an even more consoling quality than usual to what followed, Chopin’s D-flat Nocturne, Op. 27, No. 2. The effect was deeply stirring. The playing of Chopin itself was not to me as persuasive as Dr. Kang’s Corigliano, as momentum sometimes supplanted the dreaming quality, leaving some ornaments sounding slightly regimented and the tone less than transcendent, but the overall feeling was there. Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie in A-flat major, Op. 61 concluded the program with sweep.

 

 

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Seventh New York International Piano Competition in Review

The Seventh New York International Piano Competition in Review

The Seventh New York International Piano Competition (NYIPC), under the auspices of The Stecher and Horowitz Foundation
Greenfield Hall, Manhattan School of Music, New York, NY
June 22, 2014

Music competitions today seem to sprout up practically anywhere that there are instruments, such that the array of contest names in winners’ biographies rapidly becomes a blur, from the first annual This prize to second national That award. I must confess that, because of this blur, it took me a while to take notice of the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation’s New York International Piano Competition (NYIPC), which started in 2002. Naturally I had known the names of duo-pianists Melvin Stecher and Norman Horowitz (no, not that Horowitz!), as the duo had enjoyed decades as a performing team since 1951, including being the dedicatees of Walter Piston’s Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra and giving it its premiere. In addition, the duo had created a school, a foundation, teaching publications, and more. What I had not realized, though, was that these two musicians, along with their distinguished colleagues and friends, were on a mission to do something very big for the future piano world. They have done just that with the NYIPC.

Unbeknownst to me (as I sometimes only briefly scan the biographies of young artists I review), I had already reviewed or heard some of this foundation’s prior winners, several of whom are now firmly ensconced in their young careers or appearing as finalists and winners of competitions around the world (click here for a list of past winners- New York International Piano Competition Winners List). Clearly this competition has become a magnet for some of the best young pianists today, and the reasons are many. Naturally the total of $50,000 in prizes is one reason (the First Prize winner taking home at least $10,000). Exposure is another, with leaders in the field hearing these winners, learning about them in glossy brochures, and even reading personal statements on music written by the contestants themselves. This year’s brochure incidentally featured letters from our governor, mayor, and others, with a cover illustration of an official Competition Egg created by none other than Theo Fabergé (late grandson of the legendary Peter Carl Fabergé)!

JOYCE B. COWIN FIRST PRIZE Jun Hwi Cho, Age 18 Country of Birth: South Korea Residence: Flushing, New York Cash Award of $10,000 Concert and Recital Appearances

JOYCE B. COWIN FIRST PRIZE
Jun Hwi Cho, Age 18
Country of Birth: South Korea
Residence: Flushing, New York
Cash Award of $10,000
Concert and Recital Appearances

Apart from ever-growing prestige, an additional draw of the NYIPC is the care shown for each contestant, evident in the humane contest rules whereby no contestant is eliminated from round to round – every contestant gets to play every round. Muffing a passage in an etude does not render one unheard in one’s stronger offerings, say, a sonata or a concerto. Such rules evolve when musicians are running things! Beyond these considerations, each of twenty-something participants, not just the top winner, leaves with enough cash to compensate for the effort (even for those travelling from China, Russia, the Republic of Georgia, and the United Kingdom), while also gaining a lasting relationship with this foundation through concerts, mentoring, and more. Oh, that I were twenty-one again (the age range is 16-21)!

If it seems that I have acquired a case of Stockholm Syndrome on behalf of the NYIPC, I did sit through an hour-long set of speeches detailing these strengths, prior to hearing this year’s winners all too briefly – necessary pomp, one supposes, given the considerable fundraising behind it all. Fortunately, all was enlivened by the witty commentary of renowned radio personality Robert Sherman, who also briefly interviewed each of the four performing winners; one wished, nonetheless, for more music.

SECOND PRIZE Daniel Kim, Age 17 Country of Birth: United States Residence: Lexington, MA Cash Award of $6,000 Concert and Recital Appearances

SECOND PRIZE
Daniel Kim, Age 17
Country of Birth: United States
Residence: Lexington, MA
Cash Award of $6,000
Concert and Recital Appearances

The first performer up was Daniel Kim, as winner of the Best Performance of Commissioned Work, Nocturno Nazqueño, by Gabriela Lena Frank. Ms. Frank, a brilliant composer of multicultural background (Chinese, Peruvian, Lithuanian, Jewish) seems to favor her Latin American side, in a style evocative of South American landscapes and folklore. Seventeen-year-old Mr. Kim projected the musical imagery sensitively and convincingly, a remarkable feat considering the scant few months he had to get to know this music. On being asked by Robert Sherman how he felt when first looking at the score, he replied with candor, “the first thing that went through my head was probably panic.” Indeed there were considerable challenges, interpretively and technically, including the need for nuances in timbre, rapid repeated notes, wide stretches, and, as one was led to understand, some aleatoric elements to reveal each player’s uniqueness. Mr. Kim went on to say, though, how he enjoyed it as he started to embrace the elements of mystery and dance and the feeling of the lives of the rancheros. All of these were very much present in his performance, and if they were half as present in the twenty-odd performances of other contestants, then Ms. Frank is quite fortunate – as well as the young pianists. The commissioning of such a work to be disseminated throughout the world is a win-win enterprise.

THIRD PRIZE Yilin Liu, Age 19 Country of Birth: China Residence: San Francisco, CA Cash Award of $3,000 Concert and Recital Appearances

THIRD PRIZE
Yilin Liu, Age 19
Country of Birth: China
Residence: San Francisco, CA
Cash Award of $3,000
Concert and Recital Appearances

The next performance was of a four-hand piece by Franz Schubert, Rondeau in D Major, subtitled “Notre amitié est invariable” (“our friendship is unchanging”) and performed by the First Prize winners of The Melvin Stecher and Norman Horowitz Prize for one-piano, four hands, Thomas Steigerwald (21) and Max Ma (17). A touching reminder of the years of performing together for Stecher and Horowitz, the piece seemed also to allude to the friendships that are inevitably launched as these young performers team up with their ostensible “rivals” – a beautiful element to include in a competition. Mr. Steigerwald and Mr. Ma, after just a week of rehearsal, seemed already to have forged a collegial bond and performed with good mutual sensitivity. What was perhaps not quite there in terms of unity of conception was more than compensated for by hair-trigger reflexes and acute listening.

 

MELVIN STECHER AND NORMAN HOROWITZ FIRST PRIZE ONE-PIANO, FOUR HANDS ENSEMBLE Max Ma, Age 17 Country of Birth: United States Residence: Newcastle, Washington

MELVIN STECHER AND NORMAN HOROWITZ FIRST PRIZE
ONE-PIANO, FOUR HANDS ENSEMBLE
Max Ma, Age 17
Country of Birth: United States
Residence: Newcastle, Washington

 

 

Thomas-Steigerwald-1

Thomas Steigerwald, Age 21 Country of Birth: United States Residence: Uvalde, Texas Cash Award of $3,500 Divided between the winning team

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daniel Kim returned to the stage to perform as soloist winner of the Second Prize, this time playing the first movement of Schumann’s G Minor Sonata, Op. 22. With a good sense of the drive that suits this work so well, Mr. Kim gave the movement a good solid delivery, no small achievement in such a challenging environment. One could see tremendous potential in this performance, and the fact that it was subject to the slightly “on edge” feeling that comes from an awards concert was in fact an advantage, as an impetuous spirit is an asset here. One looks forward, nonetheless, to hearing Mr. Kim in more extensive performance and in a more controlled setting.

Last of the performers was First Prize Winner (Joyce B. Cowin Prize), Jun Hwi Cho, age 18, performing Chopin’s Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53 (the “Heroic”). Speaking beforehand about having hurt his right hand, Mr. Cho was jokingly reminded by Robert Sherman that in his accompanying statement he had written, “I will overcome any hardship I have in order to become a great pianist.” Overcome he did, and there was power and speed enough in his left hand to more than compensate for whatever might have affected his right hand – and frankly the right hand sounded quite capable as well. Mr. Cho showed a good deal of the firepower one expects to hear in a prizewinner, and one looks forward to hearing much more from him with the coming years.

 

FOURTH PRIZE Seol-Hwa Kim, Age 21 Country of Birth: South Korea Residence: Goyang-Si, South Korea Cash Award of $2,000 Concert and Recital Appearances

FOURTH PRIZE
Seol-Hwa Kim, Age 21
Country of Birth: South Korea
Residence: Goyang-Si, South Korea
Cash Award of $2,000
Concert and Recital Appearances

One would have loved to hear in addition the prizewinners Yilin Liu (19), Seol Hwa Kim (21), Ning Yuen Li (20), Ling-Yu Lee (20), and all the others, but alas, there are limits. For that matter, one might have wanted to hear members of the jury, which included Tong-Il Han, Jane Coop, Jon Nakamatsu, Thomas Schumacher, Orli Shaham, Jeffrey Swann, and a screening jury of Francis Brancaleone and Anthony LaMagra – perhaps another time. Meanwhile, one eagerly awaits the festivities of 2016!

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Music and More presents Jean Muller in Review

Music and More presents Jean Muller in Review

Jean Muller, piano
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 22, 2014

 

Assigned to review Luxembourgian pianist Jean Muller in an all-Liszt recital last weekend, I purposely avoided rereading my earlier review of him beforehand (Jean Muller all-Chopin recital January 18, 2013). A yearlong blitz of music, work, and stress had left a slight haze over my first impressions of him anyway, so I would be able to hear his artistry afresh, as I prefer.

As it turned out, this pianist emerged as quite a different artist to me. Having now (after the recital) reread last year’s review, I am reminded that I had wanted a less cautious approach, but I had no such reservations in that regard this time. Part of this difference, of course, could be attributed to the current repertoire, all Liszt, but beyond that, there was an all-around extroversion and comfort onstage that I hadn’t recalled seeing or hearing from this artist before. From the Mephistophelian intensity of his flyer portrait to the confident projection of high drama in his declamatory phrasing, Mr. Muller seems now to be savoring a more commanding role all around. He still offers introductory comments from the keyboard with a refreshingly soft-spoken humility, but his music now seizes the listener with “no holds barred” immediacy. Perhaps one can credit the reinforcing effect of his recent world tours, but in any case it appears that Mr. Muller’s star is on the rise. There was drama without histrionics, power without excess, and always an overriding musical sense.

The program was in itself a statement in boldness, featuring Liszt’s complete Études d’exécution transcendante (or Transcendental Études, played from the third edition, 1852) and concluding with the Mephisto Waltz No. 1 (in the Busoni/Horowitz version). The performances were superb. The twelve Études encompass nearly every element of virtuosity that one could dream up for a pianist, from the rapid delicacy of Feux Follets to the treacherous leaps of Mazeppa and Wilde Jagd, the pining trills and filigree of the tender Ricordanza, and the thundering bombast of Eroica. All challenges were handled expertly “and then some.” Mazeppa (sometimes comically referred to as “Mess-uppa”) was extraordinarily successful considering its ferocious demands, while Eroica retained to the end the mock-epic humor that is only possible when the pianist himself has not been destroyed in the effort. Wilde Jagd left little to be desired, although some repeated chords might have benefited from crisper rhythm – and, at the risk of sounding greedy, I still wanted the ending just a bit wilder. Ricordanza, perhaps most challenging in terms of sustaining a listener’s attention through the long daydream, was judiciously paced and elegant, avoiding the mawkishness from which it sometimes suffers. In the same vein, Harmonies du Soir gave a beautiful sense of meditation and space after the urgency of the ubiquitous F minor Étude (No. 10, Allegro Agitato Molto), also played well. Vision was harrowing in its drama, as were the chilling chromatic runs of Chasse-neige, building to terrors worthy of Yeti. Not to be underestimated, the gentle, pastoral Paysage also presents its own challenges of pedaling and timing, and it was beautifully done as well, if not completely transcendent due to the concerns just mentioned. Even the shorter Études, Nos. 1 and 2 (Preludio and Molto vivace, respectively), the two perhaps least often singled out for individual performance, were elevated to stand as important pillars of entry to the set. All in all, it was an outstanding triumph.

Each live performance of this set has been fixed in my mind as a somewhat unusual event, and part of the reason is that, despite innumerable firebrands out there, the complete set is still not that often played live. Perhaps the reason is that the challenges still daunt many pianists, especially cumulatively, or perhaps it is that such programming itself has been criticized too often as unmusical or taxing on an audience. Though each Etude may fare well when featured alone, like the diamond against black velvet, when lined up in successive performances, they compete to outshine each other. If a pianist sets the standards high at the start, his audience’s ears get spoiled and saturated, setting up a grim case of diminishing returns. Those who do perform the entire set often convey the impression of a “stunt” or worse, and the bludgeoning of the keyboard makes a listener wish to fall through a secret trap door. One pianist who performed them all gave me a headache that lasted for the entire next day – individual Études had been good, but one wondered why the pianist had determined to torment himself with this Faustian goal.

By contrast, what stood out most in Mr. Muller’s recital was that, despite some residual awareness of the “stunt” – inevitable with this unbroken chain of hurdles – there was an artistic continuity and integrity throughout. The dynamic pacing was such that the Fortissimo playing never felt relentless, and by the time No. 6, Vision, was played there was still, despite earlier outbursts, further room for building. The house piano’s beautiful bass resonance helped the pianist achieve a power here that outdid all earlier sonorities, and the roar evoked the opening up of the earth. Like a well-told story, there evolved a shape to the entire set. The sheer variety of Liszt’s imagination came to the fore, thanks to such prodigious pianistic skills and sensitivity, and another point was chalked up in favor of this kind of programming. At times Mr. Muller displayed the range of an orchestra, and one could almost recycle Heinrich Heine’s own comment about Liszt, that “the piano disappeared and the music alone was revealed” if it were not for a glassy treble register on the instrument, reminded one that there was indeed just a piano there, needing of a bit of extra help.

As a side note, Mr. Muller also planned the program well, performing 1-8 in a row as the first half (Preludio and Wilde Jagd being good bookends) and following the last four on the second half with the Mephisto Waltz No. 1. His Mephisto Waltz was almost as exciting as that of Horowitz, who had augmented sections of Busoni’s version – although Mr. Muller’s performance was quite a bit neater. A standing ovation was repaid with an encore, the pianist’s own spin on Billy Joel’s Root Beer Rag.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY