By Paul Horsley

András Schiff’s recent Friends of Chamber Music recital stood out chiefly because the Hungarian-born pianist truly interpreted each of the sonatas he’d chosen to play: four late works by masters of the Classical tradition on which much Western tonal music rests. These days not everyone in classical music “interprets,” or when they do it’s often a distortion in the name of Listen to me! András’ approach to each of these sonatas was unique and individualistic, from the sly, eyebrow-cocked humor in the Haydn to the sort of dissipated loopiness in the Schubert that made us think there might be truth to those theories about syphilitic dementia having set in during the composer’s final year.

His March 6th appearance at the Folly Theater was the first of a duet of programs called The Late Great Sonatas of Haydn, Beethoven, Mozart and Schubert. (The second will form part of the Friends’ Master Pianist Series next season.) András opened Haydn’s C-major Sonata (Hob. XVI:50) fancifully: With his right-hand index finger cocked like a pistol, he picked out the opening tune as if randomly, with one finger. The gesture set the tone for a playful approach, as if the pianist were mocking the faux simplicity that the opening theme suggests, in a sonata that is really not all that simple.

András played “loose” with tempo fluctuations in the transitional sections, where it actually felt natural, and he pedaled freely in the development section’s famous “impressionistic” passage as per Haydn’s instructions. (In the recap this sounded more Debussian than ever, raising the question as to how closely instructions intended for an 18th-century fortepiano should be followed on today’s piano.) The slow movement was tenderly simple, the finale was plumbed for its full, rich humor.

Beethoven’s Op. 109 Sonata, a monument of Western art, felt human and grounded, and in a good way. There was an unfettered manner in which András took liberties you hardly noticed because they felt rhetorically sound: an occasional spontaneous rush to a cadence, for instance, that seemed to surprise even him. It was as if he were being seized by sudden unexpected urgencies, which resulted in tempos that sometimes not even he could keep up with, or necessarily wanted to. (Had it been the deaf Beethoven playing, I found myself wondering, might it have sounded like this?)

The Andante theme was played dry-eyed, in a manner that felt not so much unemotional as direct and matter-of-fact. Again the little accelerations and decelerations in the variations which, instead of growing ethereal at the end, sustained a sense almost of agitation, as if the sheer beauty inspired András not to dream hazily of paradise but instead to marvel cogently at the power of genius.

Mozart’s “simple” C-major Sonata, K. 545, was an odd choice for one of the greatest pianists in the world to travel across the ocean for, not because it is viewed as being “for beginners” but because, for a late work, it doesn’t have the same sort of profundity as the other pieces on this program. Schiff took repeats in the first movement and embellished them tastefully, but really there was not much to get excited about here: Making a simple piece into something overwrought is not the way to sell it.

Schubert’s C-minor Sonata from his trio of final statements in the genre is one of the more puzzling pieces in the piano repertoire. It is possible to make it click. In Schiff’s hands there was nearly always something interesting going on (a breathless swoop here, an exaggerated sforzando there), so that any given “slice” of the piece might have captured the imagination. But taken as a whole it felt stuffed-full, even though it made for interesting listening throughout.

For upcoming Friends of Chamber Music concerts see chambermusic.org or call 816-561-9999.

.

NEW CONCERTO PRESENTS WINNING COMBINATION OF DRAMA AND TUNEFULNESS

Richard Danielpour’s Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, “From the Mountaintop,” is quite simply one of the most disarmingly beautiful new orchestral works I’ve heard in years. Co-commissioned by the Kansas City Symphony (with Orchestra 2001 in Philadelphia and the New Jersey Symphony), it formed one of the delights of recent concert life here: I heard it on March 8th in Helzberg Hall, with conductor Michael Stern joined by soloist Anthony McGill, for whom the concerto was written.

Anthony possesses one of the most gorgeous clarinet tones you’ll hear: It is full-bodied at pianissimo and round and mellow at fortissimo without ever sounding “pushed,” and it possesses an innate, expansive lyricism that sometimes makes you think you’re listening to a singer. Naturally Anthony is sought out by major orchestras and others (he recently left the principal chair of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra for the same post at the New York Philharmonic), but he fortunately has a major career as a soloist outside these roles. His solo part called upon him to act as a sort of orator, with low rumbles and flutter-tongue effects that nevertheless always remained “musical.” “I envisioned the clarinetist as a kind of storyteller and minister,” the composer wrote, “recounting the story of the last year of Dr. King’s Life and his death, with the orchestra serving as his congregation and witness.”

I’ve long been an avid admirer of Richard Danielpour’s music, which combines the most sophisticated understanding of structure, texture and above all “beautiful tunes” with a style that is tonality-centered without being Hollywoodish. It is a delicate line to walk, and by no means implies the music is lacking in dense complexity or drama. But in the more beautiful moments of this concerto, such as the solo cadenza and the lush melody of the final segment, one stops thinking about tonal this-or-that to just appreciate that someone can still write memorable, rigorous tunes that are free of glitz or cliché.

That Anthony is black did not necessarily make him the “natural choice” for Richard’s prosaic piece, which does indeed appear to introduce an almost cinematic narrative of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s life and legacy (plumbing its inspirational elements as well as its tragedy, though not wanting for final hope). In fact I suspect that many clarinetists will want to play this lovely concerto. It is written so that, like the best of quasi-programmatic pieces, it can stand on its own as a strong symphonic statement even if you’re listening to it with no knowledge of its ostensible subject. At the same time, there’s no question that Anthony’s strong presence in today’s classical world (as well as that of his brother, Demarre, principal flutist of the Dallas Symphony) is a welcome reminder that racial barriers need to be broken on all fronts, not just on those where African Americans have traditionally had a place.

For upcoming KC Symphony concerts see kcsymphony.org or call 816-471-0400. Photo of Richard Danielpour at top by Mike Minehan / Schirmer.

To reach Paul Horsley, performing arts editor, send email to phorsley@sbcglobal.net.

A slider with the ID of 2 was not found.