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S &
H International Festival Report
Lucerne
Piano Festival Report
Sokolov,
Vogt, Volodos & Alperin with other pianists and keyboard players
at Piano 2001 KKL Concert Hall, Lucerne
20-25 November 2001
Pletnev
at Tonhalle, Zurich 26 November 2001(PGW)
Lucerne's late autumn annual festival is dedicated to the piano
and to showing to what advantage it can be heard in the new KKL
Concert Hall, which provides the possibility for acoustical
tuning of the auditorium to each artist's own preference by adjustments
to the reflective canopy over the stage and to the reverberation
chamber's doors, a speciality of ARTEC. For musicians, numerous
testimonials describe the rare pleasure of being able to hear their
own playing very much as it sounds to the audience, which makes
them eager to return to Lucerne. During the week I took the opportunity
to sample seating positions in many parts of the hall, right up
to the high fourth gallery. It is good for listening everywhere,
with absolute clarity and projection of the quietest pianissimo,
but I found the best sound towards the centre at each level.
Soon after revelling in Mikhail Pletnev's unforgettable concert
with Beethoven's concertos Nos 2 & 4, the prospect of hearing
the same pairing of concertos played on instruments of the times
to open the Lucerne November festival was inviting, though anticipated
not without qualms. By way of light-weight overture (Dohnanyi &
the Philharmonia had given Strauss' Metamorphosen to begin their
London Beethoven cycle with Pletnev) a short sequence of nine dances
put together by Franz Bruggen showed off the 'authentic' colours
deployed by the London-based Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.
Bruggen naturally featured the little Contredance which so pleased
Beethoven that he went on to use it in the Eroica and two other
major works. A small natural horn held with the right hand alone,
gave special pleasure, and one marvelled again at the silent ambience
of the KKL Concert Hall, which enhanced all the timbres on display.
But from then on, this proved to be an ill-advised opening concert
for an important festival.
For many people the piano is a sticking point in general acceptance
of period instruments. In contrast with violins from the age of
Stradivarius, ancient pianos deteriorate and never improve with
time. But numerous convincing demonstrations of how much had been
lost because of the ubiquity of the powerful modern Steinway are
available in recital and on CD, whether on restored originals or
modern copies. Concertos are usually more problematic, and the disparity
between a fortepiano's fragile tone and low dynamic level and that
of an orchestra can be a shock. The 'best concert hall in the world'
can do little to compensate for dull music making and Beethoven's
(actual) first concerto was dismally disappointing as played through
by Stanley Hoogland on the modern copy of a Walther fortepiano (Paul
McNulty, Amsterdam), which he chose to bring from his own collection
in the Netherlands. It was a straightforward and fluent run-through,
Hoogland's eyes glued to the music, but there was no fruitful meeting
with Bruggen's stolid accompaniment, no sparks between them, and
no sign of any joint interpretative decisions having been made.
The forest of close microphones indicated that radio listeners at
home would have had a better bargain, but even so this account of
a delightful and innovative concerto would have made few converts
to the cause. The G major concerto No.4 fared a little better, on
a slightly later Bohm instrument, which had sturdy legs and a more
robust tone. It occurred to me that the famous and unique dialogue
- 'Orpheus taming the Furies' (Liszt) - of the slow movement, composed
during a period in which there was particular 'emphasis on the lyrical'
(Peter Benary in the Lucerne programme book), might have been conceived
by Beethoven to make a positive point about the disparity of power
between keyboard and the orchestra of the time? Unfortunately, as
conducted by Bruggen there was no show of force in the orchestral
contribution, which notably failed to generate any drama on this
occasion.
Another
Walther/McNulty fortepiano was heard to far better advantage in
Lucerne based Ulricke-Verena Habel's lecture-demonstration
of historical keyboard instruments (clavichord, harpsichord and
early piano) in the ideal setting of the smaller Marianischer Saal.
Her examples gave us characterful playing on three characterful
instruments, and perhaps next year she might be offered the opportunity
to give a full recital? A set of Mozart variations, played through
in groups on each of her instruments, spoke eloquently of how important
it is for aspiring modern pianists to familiarise themselves with
the touch and sound of instruments upon which the repertoire classics
were composed. The Russian pianist Alexei Lubimov is one who performs
and records on both historical and modern pianos, and in interview
for Strictly Off the Record he told me that he believes doing so
enriches his interpretations both ways. [See also Related Recordings
at the end of this report]
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The
main recitals of the festival were given on a Steinway piano and
were variably satisfying. My personal appraisals do not reflect
audience responses, which were appreciative throughout. Readers
may find my headed list of Piano 2001 surprising, with an Evgeny
Kissin relegated to the 'also rans'!
Radu Lupu sits comfortably, leaning back in an ordinary chair
- too comfortably? Beethoven Op 90 was flaccid and effete, lacking
any 'backbone'. Its relaxed finale is Schubertian, but that is not
the whole story, and Lupu played it as if already giving a Schubert
impromptu, one of which he arrived at as an encore.
The only justifications I could think of for the disinterment, rather
than revival, of Georges Enescu's rambling 1924 piano sonata were
the shared nationality of composer and interpreter, and that this
dispiriting, seemingly improvisatory work (though we were assured
it is tightly constructed, with detailed notated rubato) had been
dedicated to a Swiss composer/pianist so long ago. Its inclusion
now did a revered musician, and far from negligible composer a disservice.
More on his pianistic home ground, Radu Lupu gave a convincing and
well rounded account of Schubert's last A major sonata, but his
recital as a whole was one of several disappointments in the festival.
So was that of Denés Várjon, whose early Beethoven
(Op 14/2 in G major) was sometimes over-pedalled and lacked period
awareness. He was sometimes betrayed by his fleet and fluent fingers,
leaving him little time to shape and differentiate particular phrases
and to fully characterise each of Schumann's Carnaval procession
of miniatures. Várjon included a welcome Lisztian Rhapsody
by Dohnanyi, but Liszt himself fared less well in one of the Mephisto
Waltzes, virtuoso technical prowess taking all the pianist's energy.
Varjon's recital provided one of the very few forward looking 'modern'
work in the festival - Bartok's Elegy No. 2 Op 8b.Sz - of 1909,
nearly a century ago! Here was a tantalising glimpse of the possibilities
of the contemporary pianoforte, with resonances inside the instrument
to be savoured in the clarity of the KKL acoustic, and many innovative
harmonic and textural touches, notably a rolling bass, which together
made memorable this seven minute piece.
Another exception to the prevailing conservatism, albeit again from
the beginning of the last century, was Janacek's desolate and introspective
In the Mists (1912) with which Lars Vogt began his serious
programme, confirming positive experiences of his artistry in London
and in Lucerne during the summer. Next came an unfamiliar early
sonata, Op.2 in F# Minor by the nineteen year old Brahms, which
Vogt had also played in London earlier in the month; its unusual,
often rhapsodic character better appreciated for being heard twice.
At the Lucerne recital he completed the festival's generous representation
of Schumann's major works with the great Fantasy Op.17, its grave
conclusion possibly having never sounded more beautiful before a
large audience than in the KKL Concert Hall on this Sunday morning.
For his single quiet encore, Lars Vogt rounded the circle with a
piece from Janacek's Overgrown Path, leaving us to muse pensively
upon the perfect combination of science and artistry we had been
privileged to share. This was a recital dedicated to the music,
without any self-promotion. Composer John Field was once employed
to travel and demonstrate Clementi's pianos; were Lars Vogt free
to assist ARTEC to demonstrate their acoustic designs, he would
be the perfect exemplar of the virtues of their concert halls.
Particular anticipation heralded the appearance of Grigory Sokolov,
1966 Tchaikovsky Competition winner, renowned for his unusual repertoire,
including pre-Bach keyboard music on grand piano. His advance programme
for Lucerne had two Haydn sonatas and one by Mozart.[left]A portly
gentleman, who wasted no time wooing the audience, he sat down and
immediately began the small Hob. XVI/23 in F, scaling his playing
down to 18 C. dimensions, pedalling immaculately to maintain clarity,
respecting notated pauses and observing all repeats with 'through
thinking', which never suggested a coming back to the beginning
and starting again. Continuity between sections was a hallmark of
the evening and it went beyond movements or separate works. Sokolov
passed on, without any pause to allow applause, to Hob. XVI/37 in
D, whose first movement will have been familiar to many former piano
pupils in the audience, and again, after its presto innocentemente
finale, he launched straight into the presto of a third Haydn sonata,
the E minor Hob. XVI/34, its finale too marked innocentemente, making
a smiling finish to the sequence. Sokolov acknowledged the applause
with one bow and then retired for the interval, leaving the audience,
some of whom had been bewildered to know exactly what they had been
hearing, with plenty to discuss.
There was no musical logic in Sokolov's Haydn selection, nor in
his way of organising that half of the programme, though it did
have a pay-off in that the intrusive epidemic of November coughs
(their reach to every seat in the hall a downside of the KKL's 'perfect
acoustics’!) was suppressed by the time of the third sonata,
perhaps because Sokolov had gradually 'got through' to his listeners,
despite Haydn not being everyone's 'cup of tea', as one disappointed
critic told me. I could not avoid comparing the reverential atmosphere
created for these 50 minutes of uninterrupted piano playing, on
a darkened platform in a large concert hall, to the likely atmosphere
there might have been when Haydn played this genial domestic music
himself, perhaps to a small group of friends more often than at
formal concerts?
After the interval, a similar approach to the Mozart C minor sonata
of 1784, and the Fantasia in the same key from the following year,
paid off. Listed separately in the programme, the ascending flourish
which peremptorily concludes the Fantasia led attacca straight into
the molto allegro of the sonata, their tempi integrated to make
the Fantasia & Sonata an unquestionably convincing major work
of a half hour span. There was nothing spurious or eccentric, and
I was impressed throughout by the 'rightness' of Sokolov's negotiation
of the many tricky transitions, making for an intimate and moving
experience in this accommodating large hall. Afterwards Sokolov
acknowledged his enthusiastic reception and strode off the platform,
remaining backstage for so long that some people left the hall -
were they worried about transport, did they lack the day's programme
and not realise that a major work from the 19 C was still to come,
or did some think that Cesar Franck was not a composer they needed
to stay for?
The late addition to the preliminary programme of Franck's Prélude,
Choral et Fugue, which rarely features in recital programmes nowadays,
was however most welcome, and for me timely because I had the previous
week been conducting comparative reviews of versions recorded by
Ashley Wass, in 1997 the first British winner of the World Piano
Competition, (Naxos 8.554484), and by the Swiss pianist Karl-Andreas
Kolly (Tudor 7032). My conclusion was that they were fully recommendable
and equally so, and that collectors interested in this relatively
neglected master (Belgian by birth, French by choice) should acquire
both for their unusual couplings, Wass the complete solo piano works,
Kolly with his colleagues of the Trio Novanta the engaging piano
trios Op 1. These are now quite unknown in UK. They were admired
by Liszt, readily bear comparison with Beethoven's regularly programmed
Op 1, and deserve re-assessment with a view to their restoration
to the chamber music repertoire.
It is hard to compare studio recordings with live performances in
large concert halls, but Sokolov took his recital into a new dimension
with this complex work, which took my thoughts to Liszt as well
as back to the more obvious Bach connection. This was pianism on
the grand scale, with no holds barred. The climaxes were thunderous,
but counterpointed with utmost delicacy and lucid terracing of the
dynamics in the lyrical passages. The arpeggiated sequence with
the melody quietly picked out above with the left hand were exquisitely
shaped and balanced; at its grandiose return Sokolov showed that
he was human with a couple of small smudges, but these were rare
indeed in a long recital of uncommon music, played entirely by memory,
which demanded tremendous physical and mental stamina. I was left
thinking that this work, with its cyclical Lisztian features and
free, Beethovenian fugue, should take its turn more often for pianists
establishing their virtuoso credentials, as an alternative 'war
horse' to the ubiquitous Liszt sonata; the Franck is pianistically
harder too, though that may not be evident to the non-pianist listener.
It was unreasonable to expect an encore and as Sokolov did not return
to the platform for a long time, people began to depart. Characteristically,
though, this was no 'teasing' the audience to milk applause. He
returned to he piano, sat down and lightened the mood and, to 'clear
the palate' after romantic indulgence, tossed off a delicious Scarlatti
sonata, cheekily making it sound later than its period by inverting
the balance to emphasise the slow, bouncing accompanying voice.
I do not claim to be able to identify each of the 400, but the cross-hands
patterns suggested it was not a late one; it is said that Scarlatti
trademark was dropped when the composer's girth grew and made them
difficult to execute.
By now, one felt that Sokolov, far from tiring, was enjoying the
particular pleasure of hearing his own playing, which sounds uncommonly
true on the platform (as many pianists before him have testified).
Twice more he returned and without prevarication sat down to give
us two substantial works, each based on a rondo scheme of a returning
statement with a series of contrasting episodes. The first (unidentified)
was obviously by Schumann was harsh and demonic, that 'Florestan'
persona balanced with 'Eusebius' passages of heart-melting beauty.
And finally to a major work by Chopin to bring this distinguished
and unforgettable recital to finish almost three hours after starting
time. At the time of Sokolov's recital early in the week, it seemed
unlikely that press or paying tickets would be forthcoming for us
to hear Kissin's sold-out final Chopin recital, which was to conclude
the festival, so Sokolov's C# Mazurka Op 59/3 might have had to
stand in to represent that key pianists' piano composer; and worthily
it did so. A mazurka a major work? With its many episodes and modulations,
this extended gem, amongst what is for me the most precious collection
in Chopin's oeuvre, certainly merits that thought.
A shared ticket was eventually supplied for Seen&Heard, so I
am in a position to report my disappointment with Evgeny Kissin's
version of the Chopin 24 Preludes Op 28, but not to comment on how
he played the Bb minor Sonata. It was hard to believe that Kissin
was playing the same Steinway as had Lars Vogt earlier that day.
Billed to be the grand finale of the festival, Kissin's recital
was sold out long ahead and he had the hall filled to the rafters,
with three extra rows of seating on the platform. Feeling myself
to have been 'the only soldier out of step' amongst a sea of adulators
(of whom only a few might have turned out on the Sunday morning
to hear Vogt) I have to say that Kissin produced the ugliest piano
tone in the entire festival. At the end of a week of daily piano
playing, pyrotechnic acrobatics characterised by sheer velocity
and power fail to impress. Each little piece seemed to be approached
to find what Kissin could make of it for himself rather than for
the composer, with no ear for the sequential relationships. He pounded
the keyboard so that the fast ones thundered by with often idiosyncratic
emphases, and the tiny slow pieces, some of which every child used
to learn to play (before 'keyboards' and a different repertoire
supplanted the classics in school music teaching) were expanded
and distorted to the limit of self indulgence. One was left wondering
if Kissin had ever interested himself to play instruments of Chopin's
own time or to think about how the Preludes might have sounded when
new?
We were pleased to have an opportunity to re-appraise Arcadi
Volodos, after being disappointed in what must have been an
off-day in San Sebastian's summer festival 2000, and were delighted
to hear him again in the KKL hall. In Lucerne he displayed his formidable
pianistic powers and musical sensibility with absolute conviction,
in a wide ranging programme with serious content, before ending
the advertised list of items with an 'improved' Liszt Hungarian
Rhapsody. He had started with the richly sonorous piano transcription
which Brahms himself made of the variations movement of the String
Sextet Op.18, followed with Schumann's Kreisleriana, and took us
on an interesting itinerary from Schubert to Liszt. The eighteen
year old Schubert's first sonata in Eb major, D.157 (incomplete,
lacking a finale) was well worth an airing, and Volodos found just
the right scale for it. Three Schubert song transcriptions by Liszt
were remarkable for their choice and for Volodos' discretion in
avoiding any overt display in their elaborate accompaniments; after
Der Doppelgänger he imposed the longest unbroken silence before
permitting applause that I had ever encountered. After that he relaxed
(!) into his own arrangement of the Hungarian Rhapsody No 13, the
composer's original being not difficult enough. This formed a perfect
bridge to the well judged group of encores, beginning with a tiny
late Scriabin miniature and finally an enjoyably outrageous farrago,
which I could not identify, of the sort with which Cherkassky used
to regale us to end his recitals. For an equally serious and challenging
live recital on CD I recommend wholeheartedly Volodos' splendid
Carnegie Hall debut with Liszt, Scriabin & Rachmaninoff and,
as a surprising centre piece, Schumann's 14 Autumn Leaves Op.99,
played with immense delicacy and perfect taste (Sony Classical SK
60893).
Varjon's
Bartok & Vogt's Janacek apart, it was the individualist Misha
Alperin, opening The Long Night of Improvisation in the adjacent
Lucerne Hall, who gave us the most welcome glimpse of some aspects
of the potential scope of the instrument. Born in Ukraine, billed
as a jazz pianist, but slow to declare himself in that tradition,
Alperin began his hour disarmingly with spare and refined little
melodies which brought to my mind the contrived and knowing simplicity
of Satie, and the children's pieces of Stravinsky, compelling attention
to the beauties of the moment and holding our interest to discover
what might come next, sometimes bursting into hectic ostinati, and
with many a touch of sly, understated humour and oblique musical
references. Some of his very personal improvisations in similar
vein, recorded in the isolation of his studio on the Oslo Fjord,
on the 21st anniversary of his father's death, are collected in
Alperin's first solo CD At Home (ECM 1768).
The theme of improvisation, together with the intention to represent
all aspects of 'the fascination radiating from black and white keys
- - with no holds barred', was represented also in recitals by 'Jazz
legend' McKoy Tyner and Bamberg Cathedral organist Markus Willinger.
McKoy Tyner (b.1938), John Coltrane's favourite pianist,
gave a solo 'piano improvisation' recital of short pieces, a few
'originals' and most worked up from long familiar tunes. His digital
facility was unquestionable, but from a jazz outsider's perspective
I found his performance old-fashioned and detected little of the
essential creative feeling of true, wide-ranging improvisation on
the night. He seemed to rely instead upon well worn formulae and
patterns, and made no attempt to vie with his classical colleagues
in the festival for timbral subtleties. I doubt whether anything
uniquely new in his piano playing or treatment of the chosen material
was to be heard at Lucerne, despite the publicity build-up. Tyner
pedalled generously and brought his own percussion department -
a left foot which he stamped loudly and, most disconcertingly, usually
just behind the beat! Markus Willinger put the new Goll organ at
KKL through its paces, demonstrating the colours at his disposal,
but his Improvisation of three choral preludes in different styles
and, especially Improvisation of a Symphony in the Romantic style
were locked in a dispiriting academicism. For a taste of what contemporary
organ improvisation can and should offer, I most strongly urge readers
to explore those of the great Parisian organist/composer Jean Guillou,
captured on CD. To hear Guillou improvise on the KKL Goll organ
would be worth a special journey.
These reflections unavoidably bring to mind regret for the unaccountable
exclusion of a representative corpus of really innovative 20 C.
piano music from an important festival whose Artistic Director,
Michael Haefliger, has been named 'Global Leader for Tomorrow' (WOF
Davos) and is praised in a media release for having upheld the Lucerne
Festival's commitment to new music. Might Lucerne's KKL (despite
box office considerations and probable local conservatism) not be
able to risk following the example of Zurich's Tonhalle, where Maurizio
Pollini achieved acclamation for a sold-out concert of Boulez
and all the late Debussy Études? For a start, I would suggest
considering, as a minimum, a shared concert by 'transcendal pianists'
of today who specialise in contemporary music. If the idea appealed,
Ian Pace of the UK, Heather O'Donnell of the USA and Marianne Schroeder
of Switzerland are three of them I know personally and can vouch
for. It would not be difficult to programme a sensational and revelatory
concert to bring Lucerne's piano festival firmly into the 21st century.
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On the way back to London by Crossair (flying from Zurich shortly
a few days after one of its planes had crashed there - and not long
after reporting on S&H recent travel experiences, one on the
same airline!) the opportunity to attend Mikhail Pletnev's
Beethoven sonata recital in the famous, ornate 19th C. Tonhalle
was not to be passed by, so soon after his concerto cycle at Royal
Festival Hall.
It was salutary to discover that the most expensive stalls seats
at Zurich were no match for the cheapest at Lucerne! Before the
Pathetique came Beethoven's D minor sonata Op.10/3, with its always
astonishing largo e mesto, a highlight of the first half. Moving
forwards after the interval, to a small empty block of cheaper seats
on the spurned non-keyboard side (where pianos usually sound better),
the higher proportion of direct to reflected sound brought a sharper
focus. Doing so enhanced pleasure in Pletnev's revealingly affectionate,
and at the same time analytic, approach to the Pastorale Op.28;
a unique work and not one of the easiest in the canon to interpret.
Pletnev finished with a magisterial Op.111, maintained the disarmingly
modest demeanour shown in London and, besides the regulation bouquet
from the organisers, gracefully accepted an armful of floral tributes
from individual members of the audience before obliging with a pellucid
Chopin Nocturne for his single encore.
Mikhail Pletnev has demonstrated a devotion to exhaustive exploration
of his chosen composers in a fascinating double-CD of smaller Beethoven
works, many of them early and almost never played (DG 457 493-2.).
Op.111 is a high point of the thrilling record of his Carnegie Hall
debut recital in New York (DG 471 157-2). I trust that recordings
of the sonatas and concertos will follow soon, and would be especially
keen to hear his interpretation of the Diabelli variations, which
I would anticipate might encapsulate Pletnev's unique combination
of seriousness and playfulness.
Peter Grahame Woolf
Related Recordings
By a most serendipitous coincidence, whilst preparing this report
for publication, I received two relevant recordings, gifts which
I would like to share immediately with S&H readers.
Joanna
Leach includes the same three Haydn sonatas given by Sokolov
in Lucerne on her latest Athene CD. She plays them stylishly and
unfussily on her own characterful Stoddart square piano of 1823.
Joanna Leach, also pictured on the CD cover at Haydn's house in
Eisenstadt, is a devotee of sensitively restored authentic instruments,
with their often different timbres in separate registers, which
are sometimes smoothed out and made more 'consistent' in reproductions.
Sokolov's discography does not include any Haydn, so interested
readers would do well to seek out this very desirable Athene 22
release instead.
In transit via Zurich I had a meeting with the Swiss company Tudor
Recording AG. This is an interesting small label which explores
'niche' repertoire overlooked elsewhere. Amongst a number of CDs
received was an entirely delightful integrale of the
complete Schubert solo piano works, played idiomatically and with
evident affection by Gilbert Schuchter (1919-89), who studied
with Franz Ledwinka, whom Karajan called his own "beloved teacher,
to whom I owe my entire musical education". And, joy of joys,
Schuchter is recorded on a sweet-toned Bösendorfer, just right
for this music. It includes, of course, that unfinished sonata chosen
by Volodos at Lucerne, and if you have a chance to sample, for example,
the Grazer Fantasie on the first of the twelve CDs, you will need
no more persuading [Tudor 741-752].
I suspect that the unknown Schubert piano music
has many hidden gems to discover, just as Graham Johnson found whilst
recording all the songs for Hyperion.
Peter
Grahame Woolf
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