Hsin-I Huang, Piano
Recorded August 2016 at Legacy Hall, GA
Matthew McCabe, Engineer
A CD entitled Mighty Shadow (no connection to the recently deceased calypsonian Winston Bailey known by that name) arrived on my desk this week and turned out to be all Russian piano music, Rachmaninoff and Mussorgsky, played by Taiwanese pianist Hsin-I-Huang.
Mr. Huang is a pianist with whom I was not familiar, but one learns from his biography that his credentials are numerous, including prizes (first prize of the Bradshaw & Buono International Piano Competition in New York and the International Music Competition Paris Grand Prize Virtuoso 2015, among others) as well as concerts throughout Asia, Europe, and the United States, including in Taipei’s National Concert Hall, and Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. Mr. Huang is currently a doctoral candidate on scholarship and assistantship at Stony Brook University, while also serving as staff pianist at several colleges – clearly a busy and versatile musician. For more information one can visit his website, www.hsinihuang.com
The two works on Mr. Huang’s CD, Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Corelli Op. 42 and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, are far from neglected. The Mussorgsky falls almost in the category of “warhorse” – and though the Rachmaninoff Op. 42 is performed perhaps less often than some of the composer’s other piano works, it has hardly been ignored. One always wonders, as the seemingly saturated market for recordings of such masterpieces is saturated still further, how a new CD will distinguish itself. In this case the title “Mighty Shadow” suggests that the two works are being connected in something resembling a “concept album” (though the concept could be applied so widely as to seem a bit arbitrary). In the introduction to the liner, Mr. Huang explains that, “These two words for me conjure tensions between vigor and vulnerability, inspiration and intimidation, sacredness and secularism. And these emotions and ideas weave throughout this album’s masterworks in Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition and Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Corelli.”
Whether or not one finds the title to be enlightening or a tenuous attempt at a theme, the playing is always what counts, and it is very good here. Does this new CD merit a spot on the record collecting music lover’s shelf? The short answer, especially for the Rachmaninoff, is yes. Not only does Mr. Huang’s Rachmaninoff hold up under scrutiny and withstand comparison with some of the best performances available, but at some moments it surpasses them. Huang plays with a sincere devotion to this music, and his interpretations are thoughtful. His technique is up to it all as well, without question.
Points to admire included the organic flow from variation to variation after the hallowed theme and the sense of flexibility without excessive license. Skillful voicing was also evident, especially apparent in Variation II. Variation VII, heard in some hands as a harrowing blur, was coherent here, though clearly Mr. Huang was observing the “laissez vibrer” pedal instructions – perhaps with a lighter foot than others use. The subsequent variation had just the right misterioso feeling, and Mr. Huang managed the ritardandi without chopping up the whole.
In each case where this listener felt a reservation, the musical logic was nonetheless apparent. One was struck by the stiffness in Variation IV and wanted more lightness and speed in Variation X, but these made sense in context of the surrounding variations. In Variation XII the loudness felt exaggerated, but one admired the way it helped set up the lightness of Variation XIII. Variation XVIII towards the end was in a markedly more deliberate tempo than one is used to, but then it helped suggest a heroic gait. One could hardly argue with the conception, and thankfully it also avoided the hectic feeling that besets other interpretations.
An effective rhapsodic feeling was created in the Intermezzo, which prepared the ears for the “creamy center” of the piece in Variations XIV and XV. Pianists approach Variation XIV with varied emphases, some favoring inflection of the almost bluesy individual harmonies and others prioritizing a taut melodic line – and though it should not be an either-or proposition, prioritizing is inevitable. Mr. Huang tended to favor the unbroken melodic line, and, though this reviewer likes a bit more lingering over the shifting colors, it is probably a wise choice not to dillydally too much before the subsequent Variation XV. The fifteenth, marked dolcissimo, is a special slice of musical heaven, and it needs to be framed with care. Mr. Huang did just that with a childlike purity and transparency of sound. It could possibly have been even gentler, but that consideration may relate to the engineering (and more on that aspect later).
The issue of parts versus the whole arises whenever one reviews such lengthy works in recording. Perhaps the division into tracks reminds one to check how Ashkenazy or Trifonov did this or that segment, and inevitably one has one’s favorite moments. When one listens for the whole, though, as one should, Mr. Huang’s conception is hard to fault.
In the Mussorgsky, the sound struck this listener quite differently from that of the Rachmaninoff. Naturally one expects a difference of sound between pieces and composers, but the issue was more than, say, the warmer harmonies of Rachmaninoff versus the starker chords, single lines, and octaves in the Mussorgsky. The Mussorgsky sounded (despite all printed information to the contrary) like a different instrument in a different hall. It had at times a twangy brightness resembling even that of a MIDI synthesizer. If such a sound had been present at all in the recording or engineering of the Rachmaninoff, it was somehow camouflaged.
The Mussorgsky movements which struck one as excessively bright were rather predictable – especially Gnomus, Bydlo, and the Limoges Marketplace – and some could argue that these are meant to be quite bright, and they are, though it is always a matter of quality. It is with some reluctance that one mentions such things, as they do not necessarily reflect on Mr. Huang as a pianist, but if one is reviewing the CD – and especially considering the abundance of recordings – one must comment on the recorded sound itself. It is assumed that Mr. Huang was the producer, though none was listed. Possibly a pianist performing such demanding works may be too preoccupied with pianistic issues to have clear oversight of audio production concerns.
That said, there was much to admire in the playing itself. Highlights were the nuance and lightness and control in the playful Tuileries and the Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks and the treble tranquillo part before it. There was good contrast in the argument of Samuel Goldberg and Schmuyle and the Catacombs ending was especially haunting. Baba Yaga seemed tempo-wise much more deliberate at first than what one is used to, but it built well to The Great Gate finale.
The finale was also on the slow side, but it could be regarded as stately at such a pace. As a drawback to the tempo, though, it resulted in extraordinarily long final tremolos, unnaturally prolonged for this listener. If one can sustain their energy, the approach may work; it is hard to pull it off, though, in a recording, as much of their excited energy comes through live concert acoustics – and the live experience itself.
On that note, one hopes for a chance to hear this young pianist play this very program in live recital one day. It would promise to be a rewarding musical experience for artist and audience alike.
