The Paulus Hook Music Foundation presents Cong Bi in Review
Cong Bi, pianist
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 12, 2019
In a well-attended debut at Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall this week, Chinese pianist Cong Bi took on three of the most demanding works in the piano literature. Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor, Op. 57 (the “Appassionata”) and Schumann’s Davidsbündlertänze shared the first half, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition stood alone as the second half. The concert was billed as a “celebration of the 40th anniversary of the establishment of Sino-US diplomatic relations.” Though there was no music from China to mark the occasion (even when an audience member called out “Chinese song!” at encore time), a large Chinese contingent seemed proud and excited.
This reviewer gives generally few (if any) words about an artist’s appearance, but one would be remiss here not to mention that Cong Bi drew a gasp of admiration before he played a note. Blessed with a movie star’s good looks, he cuts a swath simply by striding onstage and gazing dreamily out at the hall from beneath a Lisztian mane. Why mention such a thing, when it is the music that matters? Well, at the risk of lumping classical music together with the pop world (e.g., the teen models who become overnight “musicians” with the magic of Auto-Tune), a distinctive stage persona does help command some attention even from classical music audiences (despite what many say). What happens after that initial impression is up to the performer’s actual musical gift and the discernment of the audience, though a magnetic image doesn’t hurt then either.
A quick web search finds that Cong Bi recently completed a graduation recital for the Bachelor of Music degree at the Mannes School of Music (The New School), but many of his credentials are from performances with orchestras and at international festivals from as early as 2011. Though no mention of the pianist’s age is made, one would guess that 2011 would have found him in his young teens. His biography cites a Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 2 performance at age fifteen (Forbidden City Hall in Beijing) for “fulfilling his stature as a musical prodigy.”
The transition period from the sketchy label “prodigy” to that of “mature artist” is challenging, because a prodigy by nature is a standout among his peers with all the attention focused on himself or herself; the gradual shift of attention towards music’s deepest offerings, though, is what allows the genuine “slow burn” career. There were many glimmers of that pure musical devotion throughout the evening (not to mention the discipline involved in tacking the program itself), but at the moment the romance and excess of youth are centerstage.
The good news from this reviewer’s perspective is that, given the order of repertoire chosen, one could enjoy each piece more than the last, with the Beethoven showing promise, the Schumann featuring a wonderfully manic ride, and the Mussorgsky going for broke completely in an unbridled tour de force. On the downside, the range from wild to wilder to wildest seemed to place Beethoven’s great Op. 57 in the position of being the steed that one uses to ride onstage rather than the substantial work of art that it is. The technical grasp was certainly there, except for a few rough patches and occasional balance issues (e.g., where left-hand repeated note rumbles overwhelmed higher lines); on the other hand, various important junctures were glossed over at high speed, and weighty moments seemed rather glib. This piece requires a bit of living, as well as thorough scholarship, and though it was clear that Mr. Bi has been well taught to be mindful of most of its details, one missed feeling the hard-won wholeness of conception that one wants. That quality tends to come with time.
Things simply got better after the Beethoven. Some of the qualities that one tends to link with youth – fierce energy, breakneck speeds, the glorying in massive sonorities, and almost schizoid shifts to intimate poetry – these all enhanced numerous passionate moments of the Mussorgsky and Schumann.
In the Schumann Davidsbündlertänze, we heard just the right impulsiveness in the eighteen wildly diverse episodes. Impetuosity was especially pronounced in the fourth (Ungeduldig), the sixth (Sehr rasch), the thirteenth (Wild und lustig), and the fifteenth (Frisch). The three episodes marked Mit Humor were also just so. We heard a hale and hearty romp through the third, with delightful ease in the leaps (as heard later in the ninth as well), and there was a Horowitzian devilry in the twelfth. The sixteenth had a jaggedness that verged on madness (in the best way possible), and in and out of the entire set we heard some astonishing lightness and delicacy as well. Present were the heroic flourishes of Florestan and introspective spells of Eusebius (contrasting characters who were quite alive in Schumann’s musical imagination), and the Davidsbünd (“The Band of David” against the Philistines) was well conveyed with excellent range. Having heard the Davidsbündlertänze easily a hundred times in capable hands, one has a rather high bar set for it, but this performance held its own quite well. The final episode (Nicht schnell) spoke stirringly, even if its last pianissimo breaths were a shade too loud (probably thanks to the hall piano’s highly resonant bass).
As for the Mussorgsky Pictures, it was a thrill to hear it played with such total immersion. The overall “exhibition” (each musical movement representing a painting at an exhibit) was interpreted thoughtfully, as were the individual sections. The Gnomus movement was appropriately craggy (almost brutal, but it worked), followed by a hypnotic Old Castle and an effortlessly fleet and clear Tuileries. The Bydlo (oxen) movement, was certainly leaden as it should be, though the giant hand gestures with each chord seemed needless at best and a bit risky.
What followed Bydlo was special in that the recurring Promenade theme (suggesting the composer’s own stroll between artworks) was treated with more special sensitivity to tonal color than it usually receives. This reviewer has found many performances of Mussorgsky’s Pictures quite tiresome, and it may be because the proverbial chain (in music especially) is only as strong as its weakest link. In other words, when the Promenade theme is treated as mere connecting material as often happens, interest lags. Why should we not be as involved in the walk of the art lover (within this musical artwork), as well as in his changing gait and spirit? Cong Bi did well in this regard, holding his audience firmly as he moved through the encyclopedic array of moods, characters, and images – not to mention pianistic challenges. From the sobbing character of the repeated notes of Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle to the frantic double notes of The Market at Limoges, he drew on tremendous pianism resources. The Hut on Hen’s Legs (Baba Yaga) was absolutely nightmarish, topped only by “no holds barred” rendition of The Great Gates of Kiev. A few minor glitches hardly affected the sweep from such sheer abandon, and listeners were on the edges of their seats. It was the kind of excitement that could help draw the next generation into the world of classical piano music. A standing ovation followed.
Despite the audience plea for a Chinese song, the evening retained its Russo-German slant with an encore of Bach, the Andante from the Italian Concerto. It was sensitively played, although I couldn’t agree with all of the pianist’s ornamentations. A second encore was Bach’s Prelude in C major (Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk. I). It exuded a certain lovely reverence until the tacking on of a jazz ending after the close, a strange (some would say heretical) add-on for a piece that still inspires debate over even a single measure (the “Schwenke” measure, no. 23, which Mr. Bi rightly omitted).
It was an auspicious debut – and this will be an interesting career to follow!
