Today's Fredlines: June 2, 2009 Archive

Last of the Semis

Posted at 12:03 AM on June 2, 2009 by Greg Allen (1 Comments)

This Cliburn Festival entry written by Gregory Allen, Professor of Piano, University of Texas at Austin, exclusively for Performance Today's Fredlines.

It's hard to watch Nobuyuki Tsujii play without considering the miraculous gift he has, being blind... and yes, I mean that the way it reads: his handicap is the springboard of his creativity, in much the same way that a deaf composer managed to produce the Hammerklavier Sonata. Whether or not you respond positively to his artistic intention (or Beethoven's, for that matter), the fact remains that this young man has phenomenal abilities that the rest of us can only dimly comprehend. He CAN play the Chopin Etudes, the Hammerklavier, the Rachmaninoff 2nd Concerto (I'm listening to his rehearsal with conductor James Conlon as I write this) with the sensitivity, confidence and flair of a seasoned professional. And he's all of 20 years old. And stands about five-two. And did I mention he's blind? OK, let's try to assess his semifinal performance with some degree of objectivity. Being the only pianist to offer John Musto's Improvisation and Fugue, he had the field to himself; without any point of reference, I heard - well, sensitivity, confidence and flair. The first two movements of the Beethoven had finely controlled rhythmic energy and clean, unadorned sonorities. In the magnificent slow movement, he didn't quite blow me away; other pianists have plumbed its depths more meaningfully, though probably few of them are only 20. During the Fugue I confess I had in my head the image of the proverbial roomful of monkeys tapping out the complete works of Shakespeare - but come on, doesn't it always sound rather like that, even in the best performance?... No, Mr. Tsujii is an inspiring artist, and rather than cynically disparaging him as little more than a sideshow attraction (as some have), I for one am grateful that, with the Cliburn Foundation backing him, he's now positioned to become a valued cultural ambassador and role-model. (I do hope he'll learn some English!)

Michail Lifits got off to an unfortunately rocky start in the Liszt Sonata; I wasn't sure just when he recovered from it, if in fact he ever did. His very special ear for sound was evident (it's really extraordinary at low dynamic levels), and the sense of architecture was seemingly pretty solid - too bad it all suffered from nerves, exhaustion, indigestion, whatever... There was good news though: his version of the Hagen Suite was full of character, imagination and sincerity; the lyrical lines in the middle movements were beautifully delineated. This was easily the best performance we heard, and I'm willing to admit that there's more to it than I had thought. Strangely, it would seem that Prokofiev just isn't the thing this year (although we'll hear the 2nd and 3rd Concertos in the Finals). In the 7th Sonata, Lifits had some original ideas here and there, but on the whole it seemed half-baked and dispirited. I felt truly sorry for him, because I do think he has demonstrated a respectable integrity as a musician.

A different sort of problem afflicted the Schubert D Major Sonata that opened Alessandro Deljavan's program: put very simply, he just hadn't fully learned it. To my ears, there was plenty of evidence: conspicuous memory slips, poorly defined textures and articulations, pallid melodic tone, bangy climaxes, etc. - none of this was noticeable in his previous outings (well, maybe the lackluster sonority). Things didn't improve much thereafter; even with the score, he didn't seem to have much of a clue about White Lies, and the Scriabin 5th Sonata was desperate. I had Deljavan on my list of possible finalists, but after this undistinguished showing, I'm sorry, there was just no chance...

And so concludes this series on the semifinal solo recitals. This seems a good time for a quick review of these blogs... I've tried to be honest in my critiques, but I'm not claiming to be right all the time. My sometimes sharp criticism is not, repeat not, a personal attack on the player, any more than the jury's decision is. Believe me, I empathize totally with these contestants - I've been there, done that, I feel their pain! When I was cut in the first round at the 1977 Cliburn, there weren't any bloggers to clue me in on the reason(s) why; I had to realize on my own that I made some poor repertoire choices, I played the wrong piano, I had a bad head cold and couldn't hear normally... Oh, and there was also that inconvenient truth that my playing was proper, academic, stolid - in a word, BORING. So if I point out that this one's Liszt isn't quite performance-ready, or that one's Brahms isn't a very good competition piece, or that he needs to pay more attention to pedaling, or she is clearly having an off day, or whatever - it's all about our shared goal of doing the best we can, of keeping our eye on the prize, artistically.

I promised a report on the quintet performances, which should post tomorrow. Of course by now we know the six finalists - and have probably placed our bets on the winners. Tune in to the concerto performances (and the last solo recitals) on the webcast: Weds. through Fri. at 7:30 CDT, Sat. at 1:30 and 7:30, and Sun. at 1:30. The awards ceremony will be at 5:00 Sunday.
GA

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The Quintets at the Cliburn Semifinals

Posted at 8:55 PM on June 2, 2009 by Greg Allen (2 Comments)

This Cliburn Festival entry written by Gregory Allen, Professor of Piano, University of Texas at Austin, exclusively for Performance Today's Fredlines.

As promised, some thoughts on the chamber music portion of the competition...

Schumann's Piano Quintet is really the first great work in the genre, written in 1842. It has always had multiple performances in the Cliburn Semis, and this time around we heard it four times (which is plenty - one year there were seven of them!). Michail Lifits brought his inquiring mind to it, with variable results: along with some beautifully balanced sonorities, there were also some tempo problems, overpedaling, and an unsettled quality of interaction with the quartet. I got the feeling the piece was new to him and hadn't had his full attention. On the other hand, Mariangela Vacatello's performance seemed seasoned and comfortable - maybe a bit too much so, for the quartet didn't seem particularly engaged. A solidly professional effort, then, but unfortunately a bit ho-hum. Then of course there was the unprecedented excitement that came with Nobuyuki Tsujii's appearance - how could he possibly interact with the quartet without eye contact? Well, just fine, thank you... not surprisingly, there weren't any interpretive quirks that would confound the ensemble, but as a middle-of-the-road reading it was perfectly acceptable. Last came Haochen Zhang, and here the question was, how much chamber-music experience could he have, being so young? Well, my guess would be, quite enough to put across a sharply defined, freshly conceived interpretation that made the quartet come alive and play with even more precision than they normally do. (This was especially apparent in the absolutely steady march tempo in the second movement.)

The Brahms Quintet is one that can take a rather wide range of stylistic viewpoints, but of the four performances, I thought only one was really successful in combining the idea with the reality. Ran Dank's was a patently ego-driven approach: too fast in all four movements, it had the feel of an aggressive dare both to the quartet and the audience, as if to say "This is MY TEMPO, take it or leave it." He did, however, judge tonal balances astutely. It seemed to me that Alessandro Deljavan showed more of his Italian heritage here than elsewhere. Tempos flowed, phrases were smoothly linear and the ensemble rapport was good... but I think one can go too far in trying to avoid Teutonic heaviness: this was a bel canto Brahms that lacked gravitas. Kyu Yeon Kim's version was efficient, with firm rhythmic control and good architecture; it was also tonally drab, with uninflected dynamics and little sense of blend between piano and strings. That left Yeol Eum Son, whose strong performance provided a satisfying conclusion to the semifinals; although I found the first movement just a tad routine, the slow movement was lovingly shaped, and the last two gained terrific power by virtue of rock-solid, not-too-fast tempos and inexorable forward momentum.

Dvorak's Quintet has the reputation of being the easiest of these four works (which it is, at least in terms of strictly pianistic challenges), but there's a huge difference between a so-so walk-through and a thoroughly captivating experience; among longtime Cliburn observers like myself, Jeffrey Kahane's performance in 1981 (!!) is still legendary. The piece wasn't so lucky this time around. The three competitors who chose it all seem to have taken its congeniality for granted, although Di Wu did manage to provide a little something more than cheery superficiality. There are those who preferred Andrea Lam's version and that's fine - I found it proficient but glib. And there was Eduard Kunz, who hadn't learned it, didn't demonstrate much in the way of collaborative skills, and delivered more heart-attack moments than any unsuspecting public or string quartet should ever have to endure...

The Franck Quintet is always the odd-man-out among this immutable tetralogy of the Cliburn Semis. It's massive in scope, extremely difficult technically, and requires a quartet with more tonal cohesion and a bigger cumulative sound than the others; and let's face it, its musical language and message are just not so user-friendly. Having said that, I'll happily volunteer to play it if you don't want to! Without actually researching the matter, I think Cliburn history might show some correlation between the eventual winners and those who chose the Franck - I know that was the case with Ioudenitch in 2001. Evgeni Bozhanov gave it his by-now-familiar polished, personal stamp; this man simply commands attention. I would have preferred a richer, more pedaled sonority, better pacing in some sections, and in particular, a more brooding, hypnotic quality in the slow movement - but hey, he's on track to win this competition, so he can do what he likes!

And what about the Takacs Quartet? I was more impressed with them than in the past; in general they seemed to show an interest in making music, rather than just taking up space onstage. OK, I confess I have never found their collective sound very alluring; they tend to use a one-size-fits-all vibrato; and I'm often exasperated by their inelegant phrasing. But they were adaptable and supportive, and displayed real chamber-music camaraderie much of the time. They do a tough job very well, and my hat's off to them!

That's enough for today. I have some further thoughts about the chamber music experience that I'd like to share, but they'll have to wait. Hasta mañana...
GA

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