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.
