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| A Cellist's take on a pianist's recital. Kind of weird but, point taken. Safety last. Still, to me, it seems to have told us more about this reviewer and his own opinion than the artist's play that is supposed to be reviewed/criticized. *********************************** http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/concert-review-simone-dinnerstein-at-the-music-center-at-strathmore/2012/01/30/gIQAb81kdQ_story.html Concert Review: Simone Dinnerstein at the Music Center at Strathmore By Robert Battey, Published: January 30 | Updated: Tuesday, January 31, 12:00 AM Whether pianist Simone Dinnerstein has cultivated a specialty or is limiting herself depends on one’s perspective. This distinctive artist is sometimes in danger of overloading her programs with lyrical, deeply introspective works within a fairly narrow range. A presentation of the Washington Performing Arts Society, her recital program Sunday at the Music Center at Strathmore was disturbingly similar in mood to the one she gave last season: both hewing to mainstream classics, particularly Bach and Schumann, and focusing on pieces at the gentler end of the spectrum. Dinnerstein, a deeply musical player, can mesmerize audiences. Her interpretations come from intrinsic communion with the composer, without any pianistic showmanship. At her best, she marries pristine textual reading with a glimpse of the hereafter, and she can make you catch your breath at the beauty of this or that phrase. But her programming choices raise the question of her range as an artist; I know of no pianist who was able to sustain a major career with such a restricted repertoire. It’s not just the mainstream Bach-through-Brahms parameter but also the selections within each composer’s oeuvre. Through two programs of complex, difficult music, Dinnerstein barely missed a note, sometimes startled with her fleet tempos and exhibited absolute control of the keyboard. But conspicuously absent from her repertoire are the athletic virtuoso works, from the classics or elsewhere. Forget Rachmaninoff, Liszt or Ravel — what about the Schumann “Fantasie,” the Chopin etudes, the Brahms F minor sonata or the “Paganini Variations,” or the Beethoven “Appassionata”? Instead, Dinnerstein offered the first two Bach Partitas (with every repeat and nary an ornament), the Schumann “Kinderszenen” and an inexplicable three-part opening set, played without pause, where a Chopin nocturne and a Brahms intermezzo surrounded a paraphrase of a pop song (Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne”) by Daniel Felsenfeld. Never was an otherwise inoffensive trifle deliberately set off at such a disadvantage. I thought Dinnerstein’s inclusion of several cheesy romantic Bach chorale arrangements last year was odd, but this was truly head-scratching. The artist made her first big professional splash with a highly original interpretation of Bach’s “Goldberg Variations,” and Bach continues to be central focus of her programs. Again, her rapt concentration and richly lyrical playing pay frequent dividends, though with her musical imagination, a bit of variety on repeats would be welcome. Next to the iconic Glenn Gould, she is almost a reactionary; where he drives forward, she spreads out, mining every expressive detail. While her ornaments sometimes sounded lumpy, the clarity in the faster movements (particularly the “Courante” of No. 1 and the “Capriccio” of No. 2) was exhilarating. In the Schumann, Dinnerstein artfully drew the quicksilver changes of mood and was especially attuned to the wistfulness and dark poignancy that underlies these seemingly innocent miniatures. I could listen to Dinnerstein play all night, but I hope her next appearance here will bring more breadth and risk-taking. ******************************* |
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| http://classical-scene.com/2012/01/29/de-la-salle-questionable/ January 29, 2012 de la Salle’s Interpretations Questionable by David Patterson Lisa de la Salle’s Boston recital debut last night at Jordan Hall, presented by Celebrity Series, began with a genius at the keyboard expounding on Ravel’s Miroirs. Admittedly, her performance had me in tears, those that come with an awakening in life. Spasms of mirth, of sentimentality, and of nobility inherent in the Frenchman’s score were everywhere evident and at times rendered forth in the boldest, most remarkable power I have yet to encounter. The 23-year old de la Salle — yes! — delivered an incomparable message of piano passion and personality. Surprisingly and disappointingly, that same passion and personality that she brought to the Ravel she also brought, and relentlessly so, to a selection of Debussy’s preludes. Ravel and Debussy are two completely different creatures. Naturalist and pundit on ancient Greek lore, Debussy could not withstand the overt, nearly romanticized deportment the young pianist was intent upon in redefining this composer’s character. During intermission I found, not surprisingly, that I was not alone in my assessment of the first half of Lisa de la Salle’s unveiling. At least for a few more concert-goers, elation also had turned to consternation. After her audacious performance of Beethoven’s Les Adieux, I began wondering what she would bring to the opening movement of the “Moonlight Sonata.” Romanticized it was not, modernized, yes: faster, more impersonalized and declarative, without cantabile. Obviously, far too much power prevailed throughout the evening. (Is this the New Age, and am I falling behind?) Velocities to extremes were also in play, most startling so in de la Salle’s delivery of Debussy’s Feux d’artifice and Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest. In her first encore, the third movement from Bach’s Italian Concerto, scale passages morphed into glissandos. His sequential passages whizzed by, making the whole sound as if it could have been the perfect soundtrack to a cartoon. Two other encores followed: a Chopin nocturne and a Schumann Kinderszenen selection. Truthfully, I like to root for the young, even more so for those who dare to take chances, go out on a limb in search of freshness, new life. In an interview that aired quite a few years ago, Broadway man Stephen Sondheim disclosed a few words for the wise, “I try to write music that is fresh yet inevitable.” So, I wonder, how do ratcheted power and velocity apply to this syllogism? For Noctuelles and Une barque sûr l’ocean, de la Salle opted for tempos slower than most, or, given her prodigious piano agility, maybe it just seemed to me to be so. Ravel’s tempos, assez vif (rather fast) and plus lent (slower) for Alborado del gracioso felt fiery flamenco, leaving me breathless. And in this Spanish vista came the climax of the entire suite — with piano power, passion, and personality; all from hands smaller than you might expect! Les oiseaux tristes — unspeakable enrapture from the opening simple and quiet two-note calls to the sudden shock of a flock of fiercely chattering birds. Lisa de la Salle neutralized the chimings in La vallée des cloches to close Miroirs on a middle ground, an ingenious move. Last-minute changes on the program, the first, a reordering of the six Debussy preludes that made its way into an insert, the second, de la Salle herself announcing that the “Moonlight” would follow rather than precede Les Adieux. As you watch Lisa de la Salle sitting at the keyboard, you cannot miss fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, back, and face enveloped in a creative surge. Could the creative urge be that which also dictated the shifts? David Patterson, Professor of Music and former Chairman of the Performing Arts Department at UMass Boston, was recipient of a Fulbright Scholar Award and the Chancellor’s Distinction in Teaching Award. He studied with Nadia Boulanger and Olivier Messiaen in Paris and holds a PhD from Harvard University. www.notescape.net |
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| http://bostonclassicalreview.com/2012/01/de-la-salle-moves-from-cool-to-fiery-in-boston-recital-debut/ De la Salle moves from cool to fiery in Boston recital debut January 29, 2012 at 8:04 pm By Keith Powers In a moment she was transformed, from cool clinician into stormy adventurer. Saturday evening’s Celebrity Series event at Jordan Hall brought French pianist Lise de la Salle to town, featured two different musical sides of the 23-year-old Parisienne. The first, on display throughout the published program, was introspective and almost aloof. Ravel’s Miroirs, a half dozen Debussy Preludes, and two Beethoven sonatas (Les Adieux and Moonlight) were all delivered with artistry and care, but also with surgical precision. Truth be told, it wasn’t her, it was the music. The French portion featured impressionistic, non-linear compositions that kept de la Salle’s prodigious physical talents under wraps. No finger-stretching octaves, no blazing runs, just carefully sketched-out phrases and musical allusions requiring deep attention from everyone in the room, not just the artist. It was magical. Miroirs shows off five personalities, and de la Salle inhabited each one like it was her own. A stalwart left hand, now bolting down the bass line, then reaching over delicately for overhand accents, finally venturing some complex rubato, was riveting. In-between, her right hand investigated Ravel’s shifting motives, some long phrases that required an artist’s sensibility to come to life, others wisps of ideas that came and left. Alborada del gracioso, a Spanish flavored aubade had the most charm, yet all proved engaging. De la Salle assembled a pastiche from Debussy’s two books of Preludes, stitching together half a dozen with no regard to the composer’s sequence. Her choices kept the mood quiet, with only a mild crescendo, coming from Feux d’artifice, the published finale, at the center of the set. Up to this point, the program was extraordinarily delicate, sonically reserved, though de la Salle’s concentration carried across the stage. Her Beethoven was substantial but less compelling. Les Adieux can be a challenge, even for late career artists. Its emotional power mixes farewell with appreciation, not exactly black and white, as Alfred Brendel once pointed out. A chance to carefully delineate the differences in the two themes of the first movement, one slow, in three chordal accents, the other freer and faster, was not articulated as well as it could have been. Both subjects return repeatedly, and subsequent fingerings marked their differences more distinctly. The Moonlight sonata was a connoisseur’s delight. Often over-emoted, imbued by passions from anxious interpreters, de la Salle instead kept to the score, observing its gentle dynamics. The brief second movement again allowed for sophisticated rubato. The finale hinted at the unbuttoned encores to come, passionate, frisky and lovingly joyful offerings of Bach, Chopin, Prokofiev and Schumann. |
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| The miroirs were recorded in her debut CD about 9~10 years ago when she barely reached her teens. It was VERY impressive then, it is slightly less so now, especially her obvious struggle with the score in Alborada del gracioso . The Debussy were less memoriable, though her overall tonal pallete was quite wide and colorfull. If the first half shows that she is only good at slow movement, the second half it was the other way around. The last movement of Beethoven Les Adieux was simply breath taking, and yet, she struggled in the slower opening movement either due to momentary memory lapse or indecision of the direction. |
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| http://www.bostonglobe.com/arts/2012/01/30/salle-shows-perfect-touch-recital-debut/CAPGqS0h9Sc3OdJj8V3ohP/story.html De la Salle shows perfect touch in recital debut By Matthew Guerrieri | Globe Correspondent January 30, 2012 The physical connection between pianist and piano takes varied forms. Some pianists press deep into the keyboard for an organ-like sonority; some seem to pull the vibrations of the strings into their hands. But in Lise de la Salle’s excellent Celebrity Series concert on Saturday - the French pianist’s Boston recital debut - the focus of energy was the point of contact between finger and key. The effect was both vintage, foregrounding a clavichord-like primacy of touch, and modern, clarity as an illusion of objectivity. Maurice Ravel’s “Miroirs’’ was bright, busy, transparent, less a wash of sound than a precisely crosshatched etching. The moths’ wings in “Noctuelles’’ rustled close-up and percussive; “Une barque sur l’océan’’ evoked the busy glint of light off the wave’s surface more than its deep roll. Relying on fast, even passagework, de la Salle often eschewed the sustain pedal; “Alborada del gracioso’’ had a guitar’s dry jangling. But elsewhere, the pedal was held down for the illusion of echoing distance, faraway birds’ cries in “Oiseaux tristes’’ or the tolling in “La vallée des cloches.’’ It brought out the neoclassical formality intrinsic to Ravel’s music; interestingly, it also located a similar quality in Ravel’s more Romantic forebear Claude Debussy. In a set of six of Debussy’s “Préludes,’’ de la Salle translated Impressionistic images into crisp, discrete pianistic language. “Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir’’ conjured a cool, brisk atmosphere; the winter landscape of “Des pas sur la neige’’ was even more austere and frozen than usual. The all-Beethoven second half emphasized that composer’s flair for musical inexorability. The E-flat major “Les Adieux’’ Sonata (Op. 81a) played the piano’s decay off its athletic demands: the horn-call opening drifting into silence, slow melodies sharply drawn but tenuous, fast sections saturated with attacks, raging against the dying of the sound. The opening of the familiar C-sharp minor “Moonlight’’ Sonata (Op. 27, No. 2) found a quietly tense equilibrium between momentum and emphasis; the finale amplified that contrast, rubato sentiment repeatedly swept away by bursts of impacable speed. Encores were dialectically paired off: a high-octane “Presto’’ from Bach’s Italian Concerto chased by Chopin’s posthumous C-sharp-minor Nocturne, lucid and icy; “Montagues and Capulets,’’ from Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet,’’ heavy and glittering and dark as a lump of uranium, balanced by a guileless reading of Schumann’s “Von fremden Ländern und Menschen.’’ It was a soft landing after flights of fierce, tactile thoughtfulness. |
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| Around 2008~2009 season Yundi Li replaced then sick Perahia as a short (or maybe not so short) notice and made his Carnegie (Main) Hall debut, the result granted him a return the following year, which unfortunately didn't end up well, and he, in the phase of his career down fall, didn't quite recover after that. Last season, Denk the thinker, successfully substituted Pollini, which also made his Carnegie (Main) Hall debut, with raves from the audiences and credits alike. So, not too surprisingly, he is returning next season. Late year both Yuja Wang and Tsujii both made their solo debut at the Stern Auditorium (the Main Hall), the result is Yuja will return next season, both in recital and in Beethoven 4th concerto with SFS under MTT. Also in next season, the new double crown champ of Tchaikovsky and Arthur Rubinstein from last year will made his planned debut at the main hall, which another more mature and more deserving one Alexandre Tharaud who is making his debut only at the much smaller Weill Recital Hall! Strange isn't it? Will see if Daniil Trifonov can succeed to make a big impression to the audience and get him a quick return invitation, which Tsujii clearly didn't. http://www.carnegiehall.org/Subscriptions/2012-2013-Series-List/ Just one quick observation, Uchida, Kissin, Bronfman, Goode, Pollini, Perahia, Ohlsson have long been regulars there, and now, Biss, Denk, and Yuja also started to join "the major league". Only one noticeable missing this year was Lang Lang, who has been there in one form or the other each year for quite some time already. But, he would return Philadelphia next season to collaborate with the financially troubling ensemble. http://www.philorch.org/press-room/news/yannick-n%C3%A9zet-s%C3%A9guin-and-philadelphia-orchestra-inaugural-season-%E2%80%93-2012-2013 |
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| http://www.sfcv.org/reviews/san-francisco-symphony/exquisite-contrasts-vitalize-sf-symphony-afternoon Exquisite Contrasts Vitalize S.F. Symphony Afternoon San Francisco Symphony By Jeff Dunn There’s nothing like a trip to the chastity of the desert to clear the mind and do some productive cogitation. Even better, to relax afterward at a voluptuous oasis. Guest conductor Pablo Heras-Casado took a fairly sparse but grateful crowd of San Francisco Symphony patrons on not one but two such pilgrimages Thursday afternoon at Davies Symphony Hall. Each half of his brilliantly structured and conducted program began with utterly engaging renditions of music to think by, and ended with outstandingly sensual performances by soloists. The concert began with an especially brittle performance of Igor Stravinsky’s Dumbarton Oaks concerto for chamber orchestra. Clarity of articulation was the watchword enforced by Heras-Casado, combined with carefully varied dynamics and motoric rhythms. The 14 Symphony players performing the work responded with spot-on excellence. Next came Maurice Ravel’s popular Piano Concerto in G — but not rendered like any other I’d heard before in dozens of outings over the years. Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili debuted with a lusciously captivating engagement with Ravel’s famous score, coupled with über-flawless technique. The first movement, in particular, was a jaw-dropping surprise. Without sacrificing any familiar jazzy propulsiveness, Buniatishvili found just the right places to conjure out the numerous languorous delights, nuanced for a Moroccan sunset, topping off phrases with a balletic raise of her right hand: a revelatory accomplishment. The remaining movements were fine, too. I especially liked, for instance, the way Heras-Casado ensured that there was an extra pop on the final drumbeat of the finale. Passé Style a Phantom? Soloists vitalize oasesAfter intermission came the first S.F. Symphony performance of Luigi Dallapiccola’s nine-minute Piccola musica notturna (Little night music) of 1954, a carefully performed and uncommonly excellent 12-tone work whose tone row’s leading four notes are easy to follow, since they’re clearly and often repeated and imply a G-major/minor tonality. James Keller’s excellent program notes on the work reveal that it closely follows the lines of a surreal poem by Antonio Machado that ends with what could easily be a description of a de Chirico painting: “I walk through this old town/alone, like a phantom.” The words could equally apply to the quality of this serial work, a standout among hundreds of audience-despised and now-abandoned outpourings from Arnold Schoenberg’s cult of the 1950s. Fortunately, time heals all wounds and usually preserves the best music for future generations, as old styles become less relevant. Dallapiccola’s night stroll was strongly contrasted by the concluding music, Manual de Falla’s El amor brujo (Love, the sorcerer), thanks to another mesmerizing performance, this time by the Spanish flamenco singer Marina Heredia. Her deeply alluring voice felt simultaneously like the texture and comfort of being buried to the neck in hot beach sand with a tsunami looming on the horizon. But only her voice — and fingers, occasionally twitching as if they were addicts for castanets — betrayed her proud, aloof exterior. Fine as Heras-Casado’s direction and the orchestra’s playing was, their efforts were insufficient to match the earthiness of this soloist. Perhaps, contrary to what would seem to be best practice and fidelity to the score, the strings should have been asked to play closer to the bridge, to make their sound more raspy and strident in an attempt to parallel what Heredia was doing. Nevertheless, the result was thrilling. No question, the soloists’ infusions in this memorable performance made the exotic oases all the more throbbing with life. Jeff Dunn is a freelance critic with a B.A. in music and a Ph.D. in geologic education. A composer of piano and vocal music, he is a member of the National Association of Composers, USA, a former president of Composers, Inc., and has served on the Board of New Music Bay Area. A photomontage enthusiast, he illustrates his own reviews. |
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| http://www.sfcv.org/article/music-news-jan-24-2012 Khatia Conquers Davies Hall Khatia Buniatishvili, with Pablo Heras-Casado in Davies Hall Thursday was a variation on an unforgettable experience in Davies Symphony Hall seven years ago. Back then an 18-year-old dazzled in her San Francisco debut, at a Chinese New Year event, a family concert, such as the one described in the top item of the column. Thursday, a 24-year-old blew me away with one of the most spectacular performances of the Ravel Piano Concerto in G Major I’ve ever heard. See Jeff Dunn’s review of the entire grand concert. It was a world-class performance; dare I say “an Argerich-class one”? Yes, I do, notwithstanding this memory, and of the three fabulous times I heard Argerich live in this work. In 2005, it was Yuja Wang. This time: Khatia Buniatishvili. You can see them together; Buniatishvili in “Liebestraum” or, especially, with Prokofiev. In Davies Hall, her debut here, she astonished with fingers of steel, exquisite sense of the music, melting lyricism without sentimentality — and the whole, which was greater than its parts. Three rounds of standing ovation — at a matinee for mostly seniors— were well justified; my only regret is no outburst of applause after the stormy first movement. There are works and performances when acknowledgment of something outstanding is more correct than respectful silence between movements: This was a prime example of that. The San Francisco Symphony kept up with Buniatishvili almost all the time, under the always-impressive baton of Pablo Heras-Casado, whose SFS debut two years ago was superb. Amateur pianist and professional enthusiast Charlie Cockey responded to Buniatishvili on YouTube: Just finished watching her do the Prokofiev #7 (rude break in the middle of the slow movement, a pity, since it’s so lovely), that manic 7/8 closing ... I only wish that my old piano teacher Carroll Meyer were still alive — Khatia’s hands are the absolute embodiment of everything he tried to teach me — watch her RH little finger and LH 4th — and the “kneel joint muscle” at the side of the hand running from the base of the little finger to the wrist. She has absolutely got it all! I have rarely if ever seen hands like hers — breathtaking — the musicianship is astounding as well, and yes, comparisons with La Martha [Argerich] are in order, starting with her strength, precision, fire and focus. Martha’s hands are odd, Yuja’s incomprehensible. That Martha’s do what they do in the positions they assume baffles me, but they do and that’s what matters; but Khatia’s are almost frighteningly perfect. Watching her hands at work I understand why my teacher used to whap mine across the back of the bone for NOT being like that (but I did — and do) try. |
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| http://sfist.com/2012/01/24/sfist_reviews_palo_heras-casado_at.php SFist Reviews: Palo Heras-Casado At The SF Symphony While we wish MTT to keep doing his SF Symphony gig for a long long time, he's the longest tenured music director here ever. He doesn't look it, but at 67, he's twice the age of Spanish maestro Pablo Heras-Casado, who conducted the SF Symphony in an exciting series last week with an odd but endearing mix of Stravinsky, Ravel, Dallapiccola and De Falla. (You'll forgive us for making a mental note to add PHC to the short list of names to remember when succession time comes.) The gift of PHC is in the clarity of his handling the orchestra; SFist fav and former SF Symphony associate conductor James Gaffigan just conducted the Washington National Symphony orchestra and earned the adjective "fuscous" for his performance. That's brownish gray, and while we'd love to steal this word into our review, PHC is exactly the opposite: brightly contrasting color, with a lightness of touch that brings each instrument line into a clear focus. The Stravinsky "Dumbarton Oaks" concerto for chamber orchestra basically bounced and tip-toed around as if weightless. The Ravel Piano Concerto in G major takes a more solemn turn, but kept the translucent textures throughout. Ravel's slow movement is reminiscent of Satie's Gymnopedies, or Debussy's Clair de Lune from the Suite Bergamasque: pieces of almost brutal simplicity that never sound naive or simplistic. PHC, aided by an impressive Khatia Buniatishvili, walked that fine line with the ease of a veteran Cirque du Soleil acrobat. Khatia is a 24yo soloist from Georgia (the country, not the peach state) and has been compared to Yuja Wang (you can see both of them together in this clip) because they both are female, young, pretty, and can play any curveball scale and arpeggio with ease. We'd still give the nod to Yuja's technique, who seems to scoff at the challenges while Khatia took them seriously, even though she tore through them carelessly to deliver emphatic exclamation points to conclude the first and last movement. It's in the second movement that her even-handed, self-controlled, perfectly crafted tone shone. On the score it looks easy, yet it's anything but. PHC's respect for the individual voices in the orchestra continued in the second half, with the SF Symphony premiere of Dallapiccola's Piccola musica notturna (literally, little night music) that did not add much to the SF Symphony repertory, if you ask us. And our neighbor, a little old lady who fell asleep thirty seconds into it. It's twelve tone music with short bow strokes and muted colors for a short ten minutes. Falla's Amor brujo on the other hand brought more excitement. Made popular by Artur Rubinstein's piano arrangement, the suite follows the travail of a haunted gypsy and brings a flamenco singer (Marina Heredia with a raspy -amplified- voice) up on stage. Principals Will Bennett (oboe), Mark Inouye (trumpet), Robin Sutherland (piano) took turns in the spotlight, but in the end it belonged squarely on PHC. |
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| http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2012/01/20/DDPS1MS8J4.DTL Symphony review: Heras-Casado's unusual magic Joshua Kosman, Chronicle Music Critic Saturday, January 21, 2012 Mastering the standard symphonies and concertos of the repertoire is an essential part of any conductor's training. But for most maestros, the real test of their artistry comes in their treatment of music that is a bit off the beaten path. Pablo Heras-Casado, the gifted Spanish conductor who made a welcome return to Davies Symphony Hall on Thursday afternoon to lead the San Francisco Symphony, has that knack. Just as he did in his local debut two years ago, Heras-Casado took unusual fare and made it sound both compelling and innovative. The trick is all too simple - Heras-Casado shapes everything he touches with delicacy and respect. He has passion and power enough for the bigger statements of orchestral music, but he seems to be at his best in more intimate repertoire. Stravinsky's "Dumbarton Oaks" Concerto, which opened the program, was a case in point. With its compact scoring for 14 instruments, the piece offers a puckishly dry take on the Baroque concerto, particularly Bach's "Brandenburgs." Heras-Casado rendered it with its textures fully translucent, but also with rounded edges that gave the performance a hint of softness. He did something similar with "Piccola musica notturna," Luigi Dallapiccola's crystalline fusion of 12-tone construction a la Webern with Italianate lyricism. This is a lovely but elusive musical gem, and the performance conveyed all its concision and tenderness. (The San Francisco Contemporary Music Players will do the piece in its chamber version next month.) Still, the most exciting part of Thursday's program was Ravel's G-Major Piano Concerto, with the young Georgian virtuoso Khatia Buniatishvili making her Symphony debut. She turned out to be a dynamic and imaginative artist, ripping through the concerto's brisk outer movements with ferocity and precision, and bringing a wondrous serenity to the emotionally placid slow movement. The concert concluded with Manuel de Falla's ballet score "El amor brujo," in a performance marked by sinuous rhythms and vivid musical scene painting. The score comprises a stream of short but highly distinctive excerpts, and Heras-Casado gave each its own character. The fierce explosions of the "Dance of Terror" contrasted nicely with the haunting beauty of "The Magic Circle (The Fisherman's Story)," and the familiar "Ritual Fire Dance" got a strong rhythmic pulse. "Pantomime," perhaps the loveliest stretch of music in the score, enjoyed a delicate lilt and an eloquent solo by principal cellist Michael Grebanier. The flamenco singer Marina Heredia made an impassioned contribution in the vocal selections. |
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| http://www.examiner.com/piano-in-san-francisco/review-khatia-buniatishvili-and-the-san-francisco-symphony-review Review: Khatia Buniatishvili and the San Francisco Symphony Elijah Ho, SF Piano Examiner January 22, 2012 “The music of a concerto should, in my opinion, be lighthearted and brilliant, and not aim at profundity or at dramatic effects,” - Maurice Ravel (1875-1837). Friday evening, at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco, the Georgian pianist, Khatia Buniatishvili, left an impression of her musical gifts. At 24, Buniatishvili has the mechanical savoir-faire to play anything in the standard repertoire, and for her evening debut with the San Francisco Symphony, the young pianist dazzled the audience with marksmanship, personal poetry, and punctuated virtuosic phrasing. Buniatishvili delivered a fresh and exhilirating performance of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, alongside the conductor, Pablo Heras-Casado. Buniatishvili currently resides in Paris, and on this occassion, with a noticeable grace and understanding of tonal color, she captured the distinct facets and elegant phrasing of the often-celebrated, but elusive French sound. The concerto, which premiered in Paris and was dedicated to the pianist, Marguerite Long, is one of the most cherished works of the twentieth century. Laced with child-like themes, the obvious influence of jazz, and the beautiful writing of the Adagio assai movement, the concerto evokes the aesthetic impressions and familiar qualities of the Ravel sound. The pianist exhibited a notable facility, as she often does in her performances. Beyond the glittering runs and streaming glissandos, however, was a laudable understanding of rhythm and dynamic effects. In Ravel, Buniatishvili’s sound was neither overly loud nor percussive, but her technique and admirable command of tonal color allowed her sound to travel far, and at times, quite beautifully. In the Allegramente, the pianist exhibited a noble, melodic and tonal control of the left-hand, as the right-hand continued its varying trills. Her sense of rhythm on this night was apparent, and of particular interest, the trill approaching the end of the Adagio assai was played with layers of differentiated sound and carefully punctuated moments. The delivery of the section earned the silence of the audience, as the ethereal qualities of the writing were successfully maintained by the artist. The ensuing Presto was taken at a blistering tempo. Buniatishvili's nimble fingers went to work, and audience members could be heard whispering with each run up the keyboard. After three curtain calls, Buniatishvili gave a familiar encore: Franz Liszt’s Liebesträume No. 3. It was a rubato-filled delivery, and one which earned her numerous sighs in the audience. An interview with Khatia Buniatishvili will be featured in the coming days. |
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| http://www.examiner.com/classical-music-in-san-francisco/heras-casado-brings-chamber-orchestra-sensibility-to-davies Heras-Casado brings chamber orchestra sensibility to Davies Stephen Smoliar, SF Classical Music Examiner January 21, 2012 This week Pablo Heras-Casado has returned to the podium of the San Francisco Symphony (SFS) in Davies Symphony Hall, having made his debut here last season in October of 2010. While his debut program covered a broad span of music history, from Felix Mendelssohn to György Kurtág, for this visit he chose to focus entirely on the twentieth century. Furthermore, perhaps in conjunction with his recent appointment as Principal Conductor of the Orchestra of St. Luke’s, he offered a repertoire of four compositions all on chamber orchestra scale. The overall result was nothing less than stunning. If the SFS Centennial Season has emerged as an opportunity to appreciate the many facets of the sonorities of the ensemble, then, by selecting compositions requiring smaller-scale resources, Heras-Casado made it clear that there were still many facets to discover and enjoy. Furthermore, he made this point by selecting four composers representative of just how diverse the twentieth-century was in its approach to orchestral music. He began with the retrospective stance of Igor Stravinsky’s neoclassical period, a concerto for chamber orchestra solidly in E-flat major given the somewhat cryptic subtitle “Dumbarton Oaks 8-v-1938.” The work was composed to celebrate the 30th wedding anniversary of Robert Woods Bliss and Mildred Barnes Bliss (hence the date in the subtitle), named for their estate in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, DC. The piece is in three movements, played without a break and scored for flute, E-flat clarinet, bassoon, two horns, three violins, three violas, two cellos, and two double basses. In true chamber style each instrument has its own part, and this is one of Stravinsky’s most inventive explorations into how instrumental sonorities could be combined in profuse variety. All this was cast in the structural forms of the Baroque concerto grosso, beginning with a brash appropriation of the opening motif of Johann Sebastian Bach’s third “Brandenburg” concerto in this genre. However, that motif is just the initial kick that sets in motion a dynamo of joyous themes bouncing from one instrument to another, all with the simultaneous energy of the sort of social chatter than must have dominated the Bliss anniversary party. This is thoroughly cheerful music, untainted by sarcasm or irony. Heras-Casado established this spirit from his opening gesture and never let it flag for the duration. (There are a few catch-your-breath pauses in the overall flow of energy; but they simply prepare for the next burst.) His balancing of the individual voices was always effective in disclosing the inner workings of Stravinsky’s score, and he found just the right approaches to phrasing to insure the clear expression of all thematic content. There could be no better way for a visiting conductor to greet the audience with, “I’m back!” For the first half of the program, Stravinsky’s chamber concerto was coupled with Maurice Ravel’s G major piano concerto, composed about seven years earlier in 1931. While there is no disputing the central role of the piano, the accompaniment is one of an extensive variety of solo voices from the wind and brass sections (along with an abundance of percussion). Thus, in the interest of effective balance, it made sense for Heras-Casado to perform this piece with a scaled-back string section. The result was an ensemble execution as transparent in its clarity as the Stravinsky concerto had been; and, if Stravinsky had been motivated by prankish retrospection of the Baroque, Ravel’s motives were unabashedly jazzy, particularly through the influences of George Gershwin’s 1924 “Rhapsody in Blue” and the F major piano concerto he composed the following year. The soloist for this revealing performance was the young Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili. She clearly sympathized with Heras-Casado’s approach to overall sonority, establishing the piano part as a “first among equals.” This is less the traditional model of dialog between soloist and ensemble and more a matter of individual instruments commenting on what the others have to say. The piano is simply allowed more time to comment but still triggers a variety of comments in response. With her solid command of technique, Buniatisvili could focus on this comment-based approach to the overall discourse, with Heras-Casdo serving as her primary mediator. The result was a strikingly original approach to a familiar score that may easily outclass what is almost a century’s worth of recordings of this twentieth-century classic. The intermission was followed by an SFS debut: their first performances of Luigi Dallapiccola’s 1954 “Piccola musica notturna.” The title translates as “little night music,” making for strong connotations of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. However, the spirit is much more in keeping with many of the slow orchestral movements by Béla Bartók, many of which he would call “night music.” Actually, the piece is a musical interpretation of Antonio Machado’s poem “Noche de verano” (summer night). Dallapiccola originally scored it for flute, oboe, clarinet, celesta, harp, violin, viola, and cello but then rescored it for full orchestra. Here again Heras-Casado scaled back the strings, thus capturing much of the original chamber spirit of the work. The music itself is in free serial style, owing more to some of the early efforts of Anton Webern, rather than the twelve-tone techniques of Arnold Schoenberg. The emphasis is on exploring individual motifs and the ways in which they may be combined across different voices in the orchestra score. Of particular interest is the way in which Dallapiccola can use one instrumental sonority to reinforce another with a delayed entry on a sustained tone that shifts the timbral quality of that tone. Heras-Casado had a solid command of the precision necessary to execute such intricate demands; and, while the piece was less than ten minutes in duration (still long enough to provoke the usual rustles of irritation from those still afraid of the serial genre), it was highly compelling in its brevity. Heras-Casado concluded with the longest work on the program, the complete score that Manuel da Falla composed for the theater piece “El amor brujo” (Love, the magician). Commissioned in 1914, Falla scored the music for flamenco singer, actors, and chamber orchestra; but he then revised the work for full orchestra and mezzo-soprano in 1916. Heras-Casado conducted the 1916 version but again scaled back the string section and substituted a flamenco singer, Marina Heredia, for the mezzo part. This restored some of the original 1914 chamber sonorities, reinforced with the earthier qualities of the flamenco voice (although a microphone was necessary to appreciate Heredia’s command of those qualities). Without actors there is little sense of the original narrative, but Heras-Casado paced the performance as a suite of dances with intervening songs and episodes. Once again the sonorous qualities elicited from the SFS were the main attraction, always expertly managed by Heras-Casado’s sure hand (which never held a baton for the entire evening). This program of two soloists was highlighted by two respective encores, both of which departed from the twentieth-century theme of the evening. Buniatishvili performed the third (and best known) of Franz Liszt’s Liebesträume piano solos from 1850. Heredia, on the other hand, offered a sample of traditional flamenco, sung without any accompaniment. Heras-Casado remained on stage for both of these encores, demonstrating, in his own quiet way, a commitment to listening that was as capable and sincere as his approach to performing. |
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| http://www.examiner.com/piano-in-san-francisco/interview-with-pianist-khatia-buniatishvili Interview with pianist Khatia Buniatishvili Elijah Ho SF Piano Examiner In the coming months, we will be featuring interviews with pianists of various backgrounds - aspiring artists at top-conservatories, piano professors, and even winners of various international competitions. A list of interviews and reviews can be found here. If you are a pianist and would like to be featured, please contact us at elijah.ho@umontreal.ca. Khatia Buniatishvili was in San Francisco last week, making her debut with the San Francisco Symphony. Born in Tbilisi, Georgia, the pianist has been performing in public concerts since the age of six. In 2008, after studies with Oleg Maisenberg in Vienna, Buniatishvili captured several prizes at the 12th Arthur Rubinstein Piano Master competition in Israel. Martha Argerich said, “Khatia is a young pianist of extraordinary talent. I was impressed by her exceptional pianistic gift, natural musicality, imagination and her brilliant virtuosity,”. We met Buniatishvili on January 20, 2012, following her performance of the Ravel Piano Concerto. Currently residing in Paris, she is an intelligent, well-spoken artist with a sweet personality; she is also notably very humble about her abilities. Below is a transcript of our conversation. A review of her concert can be found here. EH: The Ravel Piano Concerto is a beautiful work. How would you describe each of the three movements ? Buniatishvili: It’s very difficult to describe (laughs). There is a lot of mixture. First of all, I want to say, which is a strange thing, that I hear very much of Stravinsky’s Petrouchka in this piece. I also hear very much of Shostakovich and Gershwin, which is logical. It doesn’t mean that they were directly influenced by each other. There is Gershwin, because there are elements of blues and jazz. With Shostakovich, harmonically, it’s true that he is quite close, especially in the second movement. With Stravinsky, I don’t know who influenced who, but I really hear the harmonies that remind me of these composers. In Ravel, it’s Stravinsky – in Stravinsky, it’s Ravel sometimes (laughs). I would say that in the first movement of the concerto, it’s very much a synthesis of soul and body. It’s very sensual, but at the same time, there are some rhythmically strict moments. The second movement is incredible. Well, it’s difficult to describe but I will try (laughs). I think that the first theme, found on the first page, is one phrase because there is no breathing. The whole time, it is on one single breath. And with Ravel, it is incredible because the phrasing starts when the melody starts. You get the impression that some time ago, it had already begun – and you are just continuing something that never stops, as though there is no more time. I think Ravel, he did it in a way to lose the feeling of time, which I feel makes the moment immortal. The third movement, I think, reveals the joy of life. EH: What are your thoughts on the composer ? Buniatishvili: I have always said that I love to play Ravel in the style of Debussy, because Ravel is kind of a strict-scheme type of composer – whereas, Debussy was harmonically speaking, much more horizontal than vertical. But when I listen to Ravel and his harmonies, this is music that touches me and I love it – maybe even more than Debussy right now. When I listen to his music, I imagine Paris, but a grey Paris – in the rain, with the great architecture that I love. This combination of architecture, the grey skies, the rain, and the earth, makes Ravel a magical composer for me. EH: Who are some of the great pianists from the Golden Age of Pianism whose recordings you find yourself returning to ? Buniatishvili: I would say Horowitz, Hofmann, and Rachmaninoff. With these people, I cannot see any similarities to myself because I consider them to be geniuses. For example, with Rachmaninoff, he was not only a genius composer but as a pianist as well. But it’s true that I have much more feelings and attraction to this particular period and the people than for today’s pianists. What I don’t like in the development of the current piano tradition – which shows our future as well, is that the concentration goes to perfection and not depth. It goes to perfection of the piece. But to search more in the personality of the composer and in yourself, in general, there is not anymore of this. Of course, there are exceptions, like with Martha Argerich, Radu Lupu, etc. But in general, it’s not the point anymore. The point is perfection right now. EH: Great musicians of the past have said that in order to mature as an artist, it is necessary to read and know things around us. How do you prepare before learning a new piece ? Buniatishvili: Literature has always been my love. I have always had music and literature in my life, and they are still a part of me. They are necessary for people to learn and develop, definitely. I think, of course, when you read Dostoevsky and then play Prokofieff, you just feel much more this culture in your skin. Or when you are playing Ravel and reading Baudelaire, for example, the atmosphere is there. It’s a whole other world if you do this – you are much more rich. There are examples, when people are not that cultured, let’s say, but they have a sense of intuition. But I think if you are interested in classical music, you should be interested in literature as well, because there are many things in common between these worlds. EH: Your mechanism is impressive. At what age did you begin thinking about technique, how to improve it – and which Chopin Etude is the most difficult for your hand ? Buniatishvili: I remember that when I started, I did some technical exercises – but never etudes or gammes or things like this. I was just learning from the difficult places. I think that technique is something that lets you express something, if you have it. If you don’t have it, you are very limited in what you can express. But it doesn’t have more meaning than this. I’m not playing lots of etudes, but I think the one that scares me is the second one (Op. 10 No. 2). If I have to choose, probably this one (laughs). EH: Can you tell us about the musical culture and atmosphere in Georgia ? Buniatishvili: The musical culture is very strong in Georgia. We have, really, huge traditions – especially in folk music. The conservatory is really at a high level. I say that because I studied in Vienna as well. And when I compare this with Georgia, the level in Georgia is just incredible for pianists and singers. So these are three very developed points – piano, singing, folk music, and I am very proud of it (laughs). |
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| EH: What is your musical background ? Buniatishvili: I would probably say the Georgian school. But I don’t really like to define which school method it was, really. It is true that with very remarkable professors, for my musical development, the professors were from Georgia. I had a very great teacher, Tengiz Amirejibi. There was my mother, also, and in Vienna, there was Oleg Maisenberg. So it’s very mixed, actually. I think there are no schools that exist; it’s the individuality of the teacher that counts more than any ‘special’ school. EH: Who was your principal piano teacher in Tbilisi, and what were your earliest impressions of them ? After studying with my mother, I went to my first teacher at the age of eleven. The teacher was still very much a young woman at the time, but she had a very special manner of explaining music, describing music in a very simple but very deep way – which makes us dream. And when you are ten or eleven years old, it is something very special. You love what you are doing – even if you don’t have to do it, you love doing it. And this teacher had the ability to put this in a child. Even when I see her now, we communicate and have very similar taste in music. Then there was Tengiz Amirejibi, who might be one of the last maestros in the whole world. He had this special noble type of playing, you know, like a Cortot or somebody like that. It was a very special, very refined type of playing. Oleg Maisenberg is someone who always has huge fantasy, unlimited imagination. He is a person who wanted me to keep my freedom and never tried to destroy or change something in my original interpretation. EH: What are some of the noticeable differences in musical culture between Europe and America ? By this, I mean, your feelings about an audience’s reception of classical music, and even the way pianists are trained. Buniatishvili: With audiences, I see small differences here and there. The US audience, for me, is something very new because I haven’t played so much here. But I think I know this world quite well, as I have seen many movies (laughs) – Wood Allen and all the people I have admired since I was really little. I have spoken English since I was six-years-old, so I have the impression that I know it a bit. When I arrived in San Francisco, it was my first time here and my impression was that maybe in a previous life, or something, I had already been here. There was something very familiar about it. I get this feeling about people sometimes. I think audiences here are very enthusiastic. In Paris, I don’t know exactly about the French school, but I think that there are some differences in character. I would not say that schools have such an importance; I would not make such a radical difference, you know ? Maybe people from France, from Georgia, from Russia, they have their special views on some things, but I don’t see such a huge difference between the schools. Actually, I don’t like to call them different schools anyway. I think that if somebody is special, it’s because of their individuality, because of their background, their nationality, roots, professors, etc. But in the end, it is not the school – it is the individuality of the person. EH: In your opinion, what is the utmost purpose of Art ? Buniatishvili: I think everything that we are doing is an art – be it politics or science. It is for people. So, for me, the purpose of art is to make people dream, to make them happier for a moment. Time is something very special. It is something that we invented ourselves. And it’s difficult to see the line between time and happiness, because it is difficult to keep our happier moments. But if there is the possibility – like in the second movement of Ravel’s concerto, when time stops and you can just enjoy and be more happy, feeling these emotions of everyday life, then this is why Art exists. It’s to touch and move people, to wake up these feelings that people have in them. EH: As one of its emerging talents, do you believe that the future of classical music is secure ? Buniatishvili: Oh yes. Classical music develops. There are contemporary composers – not all of them are interesting, but I’m sure there are some geniuses out there that will come. You know, even if you write a song that is really special, it continues, it lives. Classical music will find a way to continue. If there are people like me, who can maybe help it to breathe, to make a piece live, then I think it will be okay. EH: What is the ideal impression that you would like to leave with your audiences ? Buniatishvili: Sincerity, love, giving, and cheering. EH: Ms. Buniatishvili, thank you for taking the time. Buniatishvili: It was my pleasure. Thank you ! ***************************** Actually Lang Lang's play can be seen as much more disciplined than this crazy girl. And yet, she has her own moments which can be quite special. Sometimes I feel that our Chinese based training system often helped to kill the young artists own instincts. It may help the student in the short run by winning a competition or two, but somehow the inspiration, the imagination and even the self motivation, all were rather suppressed, or not been fully development. Which is quite true even among some big named youngsters (some already no longer so young anymore) under big named couches. :-) |
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| What do you mean by "under big named couches"? You mean they play under the sofas? |
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| Do you mean casting couch? But not roach? :-) Nice way to check out if anyone is paying attention. Still I believe my message is delivered. |
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| See? The immediate return invitation, the key to have a concert career. http://www.sfcv.org/article/music-news-jan-31-2012 ******************************* Khatia's Return Napa Valley Symphony Executive Director Richard Aldag enthusiastically seconds all the praises for pianist Khatia Buniatishvili, adding: You should know that the Napa Valley Symphony will be the first to present her in recital in the Bay Area at the Napa Valley Opera House on March 1, 2013. Put it on your calendar! ****************************** May it be LYD, may it be Chen Sa, may it be Zhang Haochen, or other young pianists, if they can't use whatever public concert opportunity to make a real impression and gather an immediate return invitation within a year or two, the future chances going back can diminish very quickly. It's not so or so choose to be low key (somewhat a popular word in China these days, or maybe it's just a faked one), they had to because there isn't much opportunities on the horizon. So, let's face it and cherish whatever they have and try to get the best out of it. |
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| http://www.star-telegram.com/2012/01/18/3669465/the-cliburn-title-comes-with-prestige.html The Cliburn title comes with prestige, a medal and a support staff By Olin Chism Special to the Star-Telegram For Haochen Zhang and Nobuyuki Tsujii, the 2009 Van Cliburn International Piano Competition is just now ending. They played their last notes in the contest and won their gold medals nearly three years ago, of course, but the Cliburn is a competition that keeps on giving. Specifically, it provides its finalists with three seasons' worth of career management. Neither Zhang nor Tsujii has to be nervous about the fact that they're now in that third season, because major international agencies are stepping in to take over the Cliburn's managerial role. (Zhang's managers will be Kajimoto overseas and Opus 3 Artists in North and South America. Tsujii's will be IMG Artists except for Japan, where Avex Classics International will continue as his manager.) This nurturing of the careers of talented young pianists has been one of the Cliburn Foundation's principal aims for the 50 years it has existed. "From the first competition 50 years ago, the Cliburn's goal has been to launch its winners into meaningful careers," said Cliburn interim President and CEO Alann Bedford Sampson. "Life on the road can be trying, and the Cliburn stands by these young pianists to encourage them as they begin their lives as performing artists. The same warmth and support they receive from their host families and the city of Fort Worth during the competition, they take with them on the road around the world. "The goal, as has just been so brilliantly realized with Haochen and Nobu, is to sign our winners with professional artist management at the end of those three years -- but they remain part of the Cliburn family forever." A recital Wednesday at the Dallas Museum of Art will mark the first of several events during 2012 to celebrate the Cliburn's 50th anniversary. Yeol Eum Son, the 2009 silver medalist, will play selected works that were commissioned for previous competitions. Details of management The typical music-lover may rarely think about concert management, but it's a vital element in an artist's career. Sandra Doan, the Cliburn Foundation's principal artist manager, lists some of the things managers do: book dates, arrange the artist's schedule, work with the artist on programming details, make travel arrangements, even coach the artist on how to do interviews and speak publicly. Scheduling can be tricky. The Cliburn Foundation manages only domestically; it has to coordinate with managers overseas. "We have to be careful not to make the calendars too busy so that they will have sufficient time to practice and study," Doan says. The Cliburn aims for about 50 concert dates a year, including those arranged by other managers. For Zhang, there was an additional complication: He's still a student (it's his final year) at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia, where he studies with renowned teacher Gary Graffman. "Just not that much anymore," Zhang says, "because it's very hard to match my schedule with his.... I have to sometimes call him and tell him I won't be able to come to see him in person for up to two or three months." Zhang says that Curtis is extremely understanding about his frequent absences. "Unlike most schools, where it's like, 'Oh your studies are more important than your doing your own stuff,' Curtis is not like that. So I'm really fortunate." Doan says that programming has to be coordinated between the artist and the presenter. Solo recitals offer more flexibility. "Most of [the artists] stick to one program [for the season]," Doan says. "They come to us, tell us what they would like to play, and we usually say fine. There have been rare instances when I have suggested something else. Some presenters ask for very specific types of things; then we have to sit down and think about their needs." Orchestra dates involve more musicians and less flexibility. Doan says that "as part of their application, [Cliburn contestants] are required to have six concertos ready for performance; they usually have a list of 15, or something like that, but we don't ask them to keep them up. We usually limit it to three or four so they are not overwhelmed." If an orchestra doesn't agree to one of the three or four, the pianist has to brush up on one he or she has studied before, or simply learn a new one. Concert tour arrangements involve a lot of details, Doan says, many of them designed to "make it as stress-free as possible." These include things like booking flights, making hotel reservations, requesting someone to meet the artist at the airport, making sure that the hotel is within walking distance of the concert hall or that public transportation is available, making sure that there are restaurants nearby, and "making sure that the piano tech gets there in time." If something goes wrong -- a flight cancellation, for instance -- it's up to the management agency to rebook the flight or make other arrangements. Doan remembers one instance in which a snowstorm grounded all flights and the artist had to go by train -- a 10-hour trip. Zhang says management is vital. "It's impossible for any artist to do all this by himself. Managers have their whole working time dedicated to this. If I were to have to do this myself, I wouldn't have any time to practice. It's a necessity, not a luxury." **************************** http://imgartists.com/artists/piano http://avexnet.or.jp/classics/ http://www.opus3artists.com/category/?id=46 http://www.kajimotomusic.com.cn/music/en/artists/Piano/148.html |
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| http://www.npr.org/2012/01/19/145474236/live-tonight-at-6-et-lang-langs-chinese-new-year-at-wqxr Lang Lang's Chinese New Year At WQXR by Tom Huizenga January 23, 2012 The outburst of Western classical music in China over the past decade has been called nothing short of a frenzy by some observers. Estimates vary widely, but it's reported that somewhere between 50 and 100 million Chinese children are studying piano, violin and other Western instruments. One piano manufacturer alone, the Pearl River Company, builds around 100,000 pianos per year. The cultural exchange has also been felt in the U.S. Many of today's most celebrated Chinese composers now live here, and Chinese musicians are becoming increasingly visible — not only in Western music schools but on the international stage. Arguably, the most popular classical pianist today is Lang Lang. Originally from the northeastern city of Shenyang, the 29-year-old sensation is now based in New York. As a preview to the New York Philharmonic's festive Chinese New Year concert tomorrow night (also webcast on this site), Lang Lang joins the Mongolian children's choir Quintessenso this evening for a live video webcast hosted by WQXR's David Garland. The performance at the Greene Space in New York features the choir in traditional songs for the New Year. The choir of 37 children comes from five ancient tribes in the high steppes of the Hulun Buir grasslands in extreme Northeast China. They sing more than 40 traditional folk tunes and nursery rhymes from their region. Tomorrow marks their New York Philharmonic debut, and we're pleased to be able to share them with a wider audience through these webcasts. It's part of a week-long Chinese music celebration, "China in New York," on WQXR. *************************** Of course we all know that LYD also made his appearance in a duet form with another pop star, who actually can't really sing (he got no voice), at the CCTV pop show of Chinese New Year. Some of Li's fans call it "云迪完胜郎朗" because CCTV picked him this year but not Lang Lang. Wow! What a well frog. :-) Any how, look who will be back at the Hollywood Bowl this summer? :-) http://www.hollywoodbowl.com/tickets/calendar-fullseason.cfm |
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| http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/20/arts/music/lang-langs-bartok-with-the-new-york-philharmonic-review.html Music Review Meeting Complex Bartok With Ease and Imagination By ANTHONY TOMMASINI Published: January 19, 2012 The superstar pianist Lang Lang may shamelessly cultivate a flamboyant persona. And he has been criticized widely for exaggerated expressivity. Still, no fair-minded person can deny that Mr. Lang has stupendous technique and keen musical instincts. There was no showing off on Wednesday night at Avery Fisher Hall when Mr. Lang played Bartok’s Piano Concerto No. 2, with Alan Gilbert conducting the New York Philharmonic. This exhilarating 25-minute work, completed in 1931, ingeniously blends the modernist and folkloric elements of Bartok’s language. Pianists consider it among the most technically demanding of all concertos. Mr. Lang gave a brilliant performance, not just glittering and incisive but joyous and smart. Mr. Lang, who can play anything easily, seemed intensely focused on this occasion. He performed reading from the score with a page turner to assist him: a sight his ardent fans rarely see. For all the musical complexities of this piece, Bartok intended it to be an exuberant concerto in the grand tradition. If the audience senses that a pianist is struggling to play it, the effect is lost. Mr. Lang dispatched the piece with uncanny ease and abundant imagination. On its surface the first movement, in which the piano is accompanied only by percussion, woodwinds and brasses, is a breathless folk dance. The piano part teems with clusters and crisscrossing octaves. Fractured brass fanfares alternate with jagged bursts of piano chords, which Mr. Lang not only executed with aplomb but also voiced with care to bring out the melodic line or inner details. In one passage of mysterious rolled chords, he teased out an Eastern quality. The crazed cadenza was all the more ferocious for the ping and clarity of Mr. Lang’s playing. The slow second movement begins with a somber, choralelike melody for strings alone, which the Philharmonic played with hushed richness. When the piano entered, Mr. Lang’s shaping of the fragile theme was beguilingly simple and sensitive. And in the restless finale, another kind of folk-tinged dance, Mr. Lang, backed by the inspired orchestra, played dazzlingly, sometimes bouncing eagerly on the piano bench as the driving music surged. In recent seasons New Yorkers have heard two major pianists, Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Andras Schiff, play this concerto with commanding technique and more distinctive musicianship. Still, the sheer exuberance of Mr. Lang’s playing was infectious. The performance drew enthusiastic applause, though not the automatic standing ovation Mr. Lang is used to when he plays a crowd-pleasing Romantic staple. That may come on Tuesday when he performs Liszt’s First Piano Concerto in a special Philharmonic program celebrating the Chinese New Year. It was an astute idea on Mr. Gilbert’s part to precede the Bartok with Magnus Lindberg’s “Feria,” a 17-minute orchestral essay completed in 1997. The piece begins with highly charged, piercingly modern riffs driven by jagged brass fanfares. In a calmer middle section there are references to Monteverdi below the busy surface that emerge like out-of-focus anthems in the brass. Things pick up again, and the music speeds along, this time in big, heaving swings of orchestral sonorities so bright that you almost want to squint. The performance under Mr. Gilbert was dynamic and colorful. Mr. Lindberg is in the last of his three seasons as the Philharmonic’s composer in residence. After intermission came Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 5. And in the context of this adventurous program, that familiar 1944 Neo-Classical piece sounded newly fresh and daring. That impression was boosted by Mr. Gilbert’s approach, which probed the music for depth and weight and drew sonorous, powerful playing from the Philharmonic. The finale, which can come across like a satirical, slapstick romp, was played here with such drive and bite that it seemed dangerous. |
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| Over $40 for barely 180 some pages? Really? http://www.amazon.com/At-Piano-Interviews-21st-Century-Pianists/dp/0810881721 Well, for some cheap guy like me, the coarse photo copy from zinio.com seems still quite readable. :-) http://www.zinio.com/sitemap/Interests-books/At-the-Piano%3A-Interviews-with-21st-Century-Pianists/1st-edition/cat1960201/pr-500648105/is-416202721 Also, Chen Sa's new concerto recording will very likely sound rather safe or at least just from the album cover than Yuja Wang's rather scary and kind of ugly black and red Fantasia one. But of course this may not necessarily be a compliment to her (Chen) considering for many real artists, the motto often is "safety last". :-) http://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/B005OZDXNM/ref=dp_olp_new?ie=UTF8&qid=1327084111&sr=8-3&condition=new http://www.deutschegrammophon.com/cat/single?PRODUCT_NR=4790052 http://magazin.klassik.com/reviews/reviews.cfm?TASK=REVIEW&RECID=21630&REID=13122 |
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| 我想知道边位有《鸡公仔》拉《草原上开满幸福花》呢两首童谣噶五线谱呢·有噶话请发到我噶邮箱吧·五该晒· |
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| http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/classicalmusic/8993120/Jonathan-Biss-My-mission-to-spread-the-word-about-Beethoven.html Jonathan Biss: My mission to spread the word about Beethoven Pianist Jonathan Biss talks to Ivan Hewett about his 'Kindle Single’ in which he explores the mystery of the sonatas. By Ivan Hewett 7:30AM GMT 05 Jan 2012 The idea of a pianist trying to explain what he does seems strangely perverse, like a bird choosing to walk rather than fly. Music, after all, is a way of saying the unsayable. And yet the interesting thing is that quite a few have tried. The latest is the young American pianist Jonathan Biss. Last month he became the first classical musician to publish a Kindle Single – a short e-book of about 18,000 words. Entitled Beethoven’s Shadow, Biss’s book is a meditation on the art of performing Beethoven’s piano sonatas. He’s following in the footsteps of great pianists who’ve written about performing Beethoven, above all Artur Schnabel, who made the first complete recording of Beethoven’s 32 piano sonatas in the mid-1930s. Was Schnabel an inspiration for his own book? Biss, 31, laughs ruefully. “Schnabel features an awful lot in my book, so I thought I should re-read his own. In his introduction, Schnabel explains that he almost turned down the invitation to put his thoughts on paper because, as he put it, 'I’m a gardener, not a botanist.’ I thought, Schnabel has just explained why I shouldn’t be doing this!” So why did he do it? “Two reasons, I guess. I wanted to approach the thing I love from a different angle, so it wasn’t just about giving concerts and making recordings. And I also wanted to offer people a way into this incredible music.” Was it taxing? “Oh, it was incredibly taxing. I never found I could sit down and start writing, there was always a two-hour period of just screwing around, walking around my coffee table before anything approaching serious thinking came forth.” What eventually came forth is a fascinating and closely argued disquisition on playing Beethoven, from four angles. “Firstly, it’s to do with my own engagement with Beethoven, what he means to me, how my view of his music has changed over time. Then there’s the relationship with the live audience and how I try to communicate what’s on the page. The third element is the strange relationship with the microphone in the recording studio. I’ve been thinking about it a lot as I’ve just started a project to record all the Beethoven sonatas. Finally, there’s my relationship with the amazing legacy of Beethoven on disc.” That deep, many-sided immersion in Beethoven started early. Both of Biss’s parents are distinguished violinists who teach at the renowned school of music at the University of Indiana. “Music was the spoken language in our household,” says Biss. “From the beginning I was aware of Beethoven as this giant who tussled and wrestled with musical ideas.” By the age of 10 he’d already learned one of the Beethoven sonatas that features on his new CD. Given the fabulously rich performing tradition around these 32 sonatas, isn’t it difficult to find something new to say about them? Biss feels that’s the wrong question. “I don’t think it’s the job of the interpreter to look for something new. These pieces are so vast and many-sided, they’ll always show something new to each generation, and, if you have the personality of a performer, something personal will inevitably come out. If you say to yourself, 'I want to say something that hasn’t been said before’, you’re observing yourself observing the music, which isn’t honest. An intensity of sincerity is the most important quality a performer can bring to this music.” After more than 20 years’ immersion in Beethoven’s sonatas, their sheer variety still astonishes Biss. “The interesting thing about preparing the Beethoven sonatas is how little working on one sonata helps with the next, because it’s always so totally different. That’s why I don’t really buy this idea of Beethoven’s music being divided into three or four periods. You can find that spiritual quality of late Beethoven right from Opus 1.” Biss is a remarkably articulate musician, but when I ask what that elusive “spiritual” quality consists in, words fail him. “Oh Lord, if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t need to play the music! You find it above all in the slow movements, where he has this amazing ability to suspend time for pages and pages. There’s something completely mysterious and alchemical in those passages that completely eludes me.” So much for Biss’s relationship with Beethoven’s music. What about the reader? “My model for the reader was someone who knew they loved music in general, but certainly not someone who would know how Beethoven’s sonata Opus 109 goes. I didn’t want to preach to the converted. I wanted to see if I could make a lightbulb come on in someone’s head, so they think ,'Ah, I really want to hear that piece.’ If someone has that response, I’ll be very very happy.” Jonathan Biss performs at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on Jan 17. 'Beethoven's Shadow' is available from the Kindle Single Store at www.amazon.com/kindlesingles. The first CD in Biss's recording of the complete Beethoven piano sonatas is on the Onyx label. ************************** Onyx label's founder used to be in charge of Universal's now dissolved Philips Classics division when it was running high. EMI let Jonathan Biss go without resigning him, while got Yundi Li, who still hasn't yet buckle his career downfall, clearly didn't pan out well either even financially for EMI, which is now, just another branch under the big Universal umbrella. Tough business indeed. But, sometimes, picking a young artist immediately out of competition scene, is just like picking a racing horse. End we all know how the odds are. And what's more, many winning horses, didn't last very long either. :-) |
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| Anyone read this? http://www.amazon.com/Beethovens-Shadow-Kindle-Single-ebook/dp/B006MHF95G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1324018142&sr=1-1 |
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| In process, just haven't finished it yet. |
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| 吕珩小同学弹得真不错： http://www.tudou.com/home/_58057767 |
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| http://liveweb.arte.tv/fr/video/Haochen_Zhang_Orchestre_Philharmonique_Israel_Beethoven/ I don't know if it's the poor piano tone or the HIP style of play that he and Noseda came up with to blame, oh boy, it's rather a dreadful 40 minutes. Had he played like this in Van Cliburn Competition or the Leeds that after, I doubt he could have ended up with any award. http://liveweb.arte.tv/fr/video/Pinchas_Zukerman_Daniil_Trifonov_Orchestre_Philharmonique_Israel_Pigovat_Beethoven_Rachmaninov/ Here, the newly signed with Decca, Trifonov, fared slightly better (started around 1:08 if you don't have the patient for poor old Pinchas, it's about time he should give up solo violin now and concentrate more on conducting), but, still not a knock-out performance one would expected from a recent double crown. If he had played this piece instead of that Chopin at the Tchaikovsky competition, he too, probably wouldn't have got the gold either there. Obviously he is not quite up to the big stage just yet. But among the two, he maybe is the closer one. It's a tough world in the world concert scene, either you make it and stay there, or you pack your baggage back to home. Of course, teaching is always another option. :-) |
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| Description Haochen Zhang est la nouvelle étoile au firmament des pianistes. En 2009, ce jeune Chinois qui a tout juste 20 ans, remportait le très prisé concours international Van Cliburn à Fort Worth. Mais Haochen Zhang est bien plus qu’un de ces pianistes virtuoses qui se précipitent dans les séries de concerts pour jeunes prodiges, c’est un authentique musicien comme on n’en rencontre que rarement. Do you understand this French description? Do you have an ear for the real exellence of piano perfomance? How many years of piano practice have you had behind you? Poor guy, to be honest with you, even your English is so poor! To quote just one example, "...one would expected from..." Take time to improve your English and your appreciation for music before you come here with any more comments. |
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| I hate to say it's rather a boring performance. Even worse than some of those done at the final round of Leeds competition back in 2009. The above so called description you can find from anywhere, it's part of PR of his program. Authentic? Even HIPsters today no longer use this word any more. Rare? Hardly. Take my words for it, he will be facing fearless competitions from many new comers his age and younger just to see the spot light. This would be the last year of the tour management provided from the Cliburn foundation, and probably the busiest one of his young career. After that, he is purely on his own. At this moment, I see he is heading to grad school which may suit him perfectly, but after seeing Joyce Young in action just couple of month ago, one may wonder whether it's really a good thing to trade her past youthful exuberance with some gained/learned polishness by staying in school for so long. |
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| http://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XMzM3Mzc4MjAw.html 大家听听这个版本张昊辰的皇帝，真正纯粹的贝多芬！精准的结构把握、自始至终唯美生动的音乐表现、气势磅礴的交响性呈现、以及和乐队的完美无瑕的配合....都可谓是这个版本的很罕见的演绎。张昊辰，你很有戏啊！比克莱本更上一层楼了，极其、极其地看好你！ |
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| 咦？我觉得张昊辰弹得很好啊。当然了，我没考虑音色什么，网络么，就那么回事。俩个圆号是差了点，但是钢琴部分很好啊 。 |
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| DJ, you have the gift for verbosity, and while you do come across as learned, somehow sophistication is still a trait that's missing in your presentation. |
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| As regards Haochen's Beethoven concerto, I say it's a veritable triumph! |
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| Not quite so. It seemed that he might not have played this piece before, or not very recently before this above concert. It shows. Especially in the first movement. A triumph or not is not judge by you or me. If secured his immediate return invitation then I will say he did a decent job. Coindentlly, Xu Hong, Zuo Zhang and Chen Sa all are reportedly play this concert with LPO when they are touring some major Chinese cities. Whoever got their return invitation will be good sign for their career. |
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| Oh I forgot to say that you lack sensitivity. Come to think of it, that may be the (only) source of your 'problem'? |
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| http://news.hexun.com/2012-01-08/137049190.html So it is his first! My ears clearly haven't failed this time around. :-) |
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| http://www.examiner.com/piano-in-san-francisco/interview-with-pianist-dang-thai-son-part-i Interview with pianist Dang Thai Son (Part I) Elijah Ho, SF Piano Examiner December 16, 2011 - Like this? Subscribe to get instant updates. In the coming months, we will be featuring interviews with pianists of various backgrounds - aspiring artists at top-conservatories, piano professors, and prize winners of various international competitions. If you are a pianist and would like to be featured, please contact us at elijah.ho@umontreal.ca. Dang Thai Son was the First Prize winner at the 1980 International Fryderyk Chopin International Piano Competition in Warsaw. The field that year included Angela Hewitt, a 17-year-old Kevin Kenner, and most notably, the controversial Yugoslavian pianist, Ivo Pogorelich. With his victory, Dang became the first pianist of Asian descent to win top honors at a major international piano competition. Born in war-torn Vietnam in 1958, Dang was discovered by the Russian pianist, Isaac Katz, who took him to the Moscow Conservatory for advanced training with Vladimir Natanson and Dmitri Bashkirov. Dang has since become a jury member at the last two editions of the prestigious Chopin competition in Poland. Below is Part I of our conversation, which took place on September 22nd, 2011 at his beautiful home in Montreal, Canada. EH: Can you describe your unique connection with Chopin ? Dang Thai Son: My relationship with Chopin is very special. I was born during the war in Vietnam, and when I was very young, we had to evacuate and move into the mountains. There was of course no electricity at the time, and even more difficulties learning music and getting our hands on musical scores. There were all kinds of shortages with respect to materials and information. And there were obviously no concerts and no recordings. This period was totally a kind of darkness. But suddenly, with Chopin, I got very lucky. In 1970, my mother was invited to attend the international Chopin competition in Warsaw as a guest, to simply observe. Being a pianist herself, she brought back from the competition complete scores and sets of recordings of Chopin’s works. The first music I heard in my life, the very first recording, was Chopin’s Piano Concerto in E minor, played by Martha Argerich. And I was so impressed. I did not have any music of Bach, Mozart, or Beethoven – only that of Chopin. I suddenly had a new condition to learn his music. If I think back, when I was maybe eight or nine years old and still living in the mountains, I can remember my first contact with Chopin’s music. I was with my mother, and I very quietly read his scores, silently in the dark, using only lit candles. My mother played some short melodies for me – nocturnes and mazurkas. I felt it was all so beautiful and I fell in love with this music. I learned his music day and night, and I could feel Chopin’s music in my blood from then on. EH: You were the very first Asian pianist to win first prize at a major international piano competition. Did you encounter any difficulties or discrimination trying to build a career after winning ? Dang Thai Son: When I first arrived in Warsaw for the 1980 Chopin competition, I actually did not even consider winning any big prizes, let alone the First Prize. I was very young at the time and I just loved Chopin. I wanted to be in Poland for the event, to simply pay a kind of homage to the composer. This was really already a great pleasure for me and I was totally unprepared for many things. For one, I did not even have a concert suit! Before the Chopin competition, I had never before given a public recital in my life. The competition was actually my very first one (laughs). Before that competition, I was nothing more than a simple student at the Moscow Conservatory. Nobody knew me and I had never taken part in any competitions. I had never played with an orchestra either. And so, that’s why I did not have a concert suit (laughs). At the time, applications for the Chopin competition were only by paper. There were no tapes or recordings to be sent. The committee later told me that my application had almost been rejected because it was empty, except for two lines – born in Hanoi, Vietnam, and now studies at the Moscow Conservatory (laughs). But finally, they accepted my application for two reasons. 1) It was the first time that a pianist would represent Vietnam – thus adding to the list of countries taking part in the competition. And 2) I was a student at the Moscow Conservatory, ensuring that I was not some amateur who didn’t know how to play the instrument (laughs). If there was ever any kind of discrimination, it might have come only after the results of the Chopin competition, and it was probably more for political reasons. As you know, we’ve all heard about the Ivo Pogorelich scandal. Martha Argerich quit the competition when Pogorelich did not reach the final stage of the competition, and at that moment, it was still unclear who would be the winner. But many people at the time actually misunderstood and believed that Martha Argerich quit because there had been some problem between Pogorelich and myself. She actually made the beautiful gesture, once she returned home to Geneva and learned of the results of the competition, of sending a public telegram to the Warsaw competition committee, congratulating me. Pogorelich may have also been a symbol of the West at the time, and being from Vietnam, I might have been put on the side of the Communists. So of course, Ivo was able to travel easily to give concerts in the West, etc. I had many political difficulties to go from one country to another. My first concert in the United States was in 1989, nine years after the competition; there had been an embargo against Vietnam at the time. I was quite innocent and a bit fragile (laughs). I encountered many difficulties and it really was not easy, even though I never expected any of this. But for me, the important thing is that I took my own way, went slowly, and tried to climb up and up. It was never a question of being famous for me but to always be mindful of the artistic values, to always improve my playing. After the competition, I went back to the Moscow Conservatory to continue my studies. For every concert I had to give in the West, there were many complications for me. I had to get permission from the Vietnamese government, they had to go through the Vietnamese embassy in Moscow, then they to go to the other country’s embassy, etc. To make a visa at the time often took two months or more, and I lost opportunities to make a career because of these political difficulties. And many of these problems were very discreet, just something that one could feel for certain reasons, but I did feel them at times. A critic in Switzerland was once very mean. About my Schubert and Chopin playing, he said ‘this guy played piano the way Asians eat with their chopsticks’. It was a very bad, very uncomfortable feeling to read this. He simply felt that an Asian playing Western music was an uncomfortable sight. This might be the only time I ever felt direct racism. |
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| EH: On an entirely different note now, what are your thoughts on piano technique today ? Would you say that piano technique has improved or declined since the ‘Golden Age’ of piano playing ? Dang Thai Son:I think this is a tough question - I think it is very difficult to compare. The instrument today is totally different. With respect to the mechanics and the projection of sound, much of the technique of Chopin - for example, the A minor Etude (Op. 10 No. 2) is so easy to play using the old pianos. The keyboard action is so very light. But with today’s modern piano, it is so heavy that it really is a big challenge – though, so far, pianists in today’s competitions don’t appear to be affected by this problem (laughs). This probably means that today’s pianists have kept a good technical level. Modern society has probably also influenced the tempo and speed; everything is faster than before. Today, we also live with digital technology, and somehow, we are more concerned with digital perfection. (laughs) Fifty years ago, we could maybe listen to the great masters and all of their wrong notes, and this was acceptable. But today, I think no pianist can survive with so many wrong notes. They would have no career. EH: From watching you in concert and on Youtube, you have a very unique mechanism. Your fingers are very active. Did this come naturally to you, or was this taught ? Dang Thai Son: I have to say that this is something that is a bit typical of the Russian school, which requires a strong, leading-role of the fingers. People seem to be a bit obsessed with this. When I arrived at the Moscow Conservatory, my professor told me that I had very weak fingers, and he said that I had to improve this. And I paid lots of attention to improve this. Luckily, this still brings many benefits. EH: Which is the most difficult Chopin etude for your hand ? Dang Thai Son:I separate them in groups (laughs). There are the ones in A minor Op. 10 No. 2 and Op. 25 No. 11, les tierces (Op. 25 No. 6), and the octaves (Op. 25 No. 10). Physically, everyone is built differently. But for me, I would have to say probably the Op. 25 No. 8. (laughs). This one is a bit uncomfortable for me. EH: This is the 200th Anniversary of Liszt’s birth. What are the key differences with respect to pianistic writing style and musical effects between Chopin and Liszt ? Dang Thai Son: For many aspects, this is really a very deep question. Let’s make it easier (laughs). They looked like each other, they were both romantics, and they were both revolutionary in some way – but somehow, they were like a sun and moon difference. With Chopin, the piano as an instrument started to have a new soul, a new sound, a new poetry. But really, it was with this new sonority that Chopin created something totally new. By this, we mean that Chopin was somehow trying to find the secret, the very intimate side of the piano. With much of his music, the focus seems to be more towards the inside. Liszt, on the other hand, made the piano sound like an orchestra – a big orchestra. And when one tries to make the piano sound like an orchestra, it cannot sound quite as subjective or intimate as Chopin’s music. It is all the more spectacular. Both Chopin and Liszt brought a new technique to the piano, and in different ways. We all know that their etudes presented challenges that were really quite different. Chopin very much brought into question the matters of sound and finger technique; Liszt brought a kind of bravura that sounded orchestral. And I also think that the subject-matter was very different. With Chopin, his music was always concerned with very personal drama; it was always about ‘me, me, me’. With Liszt, on the other hand, a very important part of his music was the fantasy, his imagination, the very character of the music. With Liszt, we have the mysterious aspect, the religious aspect, and these were so very important. |
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| http://www.examiner.com/piano-in-san-francisco/interview-with-pianist-dang-thai-son-part-ii EH: You have been a judge at the last two editions of the Chopin competition in Warsaw. What do you think Chopin would have to say about our current times and performance practices ? Dang Thai Son: I think he would really love and be fascinated by the instrument today, whether it be with the modern Steinway, the Fazioli, or the Yamaha - it doesn’t matter. In comparison with Chopin’s period, the potential to express music on the modern instrument is so large today. Not quite sure about the concert halls. So this is regarding the material side. But with respect to the interpretation aspect, I am sure that not only Chopin, but even the older generations – the masters of the past, they might believe that the young people are playing too loud and too fast. They might be losing the soul of the music. With Liszt, maybe sometimes this is okay. It is such shining and spectacular music! But with Chopin, it is really about the secret, the intimacy of the music. I think Chopin might have liked to listen to some of his works played at a slower tempo. EH: Many people were surprised by the result of Yulianna Avdeeva winning over Ingolf Wunder and even Daniil Trifonov at the Chopin Competition last year. Were you in agreement with the final placement of these artists at the Chopin competition ? Dang Thai Son: Actually, on the competition website, you can now see all the voting details for the first time. It’s quite revolutionary to see how each jury member voted for each candidate through the rounds. And it’s really quite fun to take a look at this (laughs). In the final round of the competition, every jury member agreed that the field was very strong - maybe even the highest level of playing in the history of the competition. For this reason, most judges preferred to have two names down for the First Prize. I put down Yulianna Avdeeva together with Ingolf Wunder as my top choices. But I would love to say that Wunder is actually closer to my own personal taste. Yulianna was maybe more stable in the competition; she was very stable throughout all four rounds. Her level of playing was indeed very high. Somehow, it turns out that each jury member wrote down their personal favorite, PLUS Yulianna. (laughs) So finally, she got very high points. EH: What did you think of Daniil Trifonov, who won the Tchaikovsky competition in 2011 ? Dang Thai Son: We actually played together last week in Poland at the Chopin festival. I’ve played with him twice now. The first time was in Germany last year, right after the Chopin competition. We shared the stage; he played the first part and I played the second part. And last week was a joint concert with many pianists. I have to say that if we are talking about Chopin and the Romantics, Trifonov is a very romantic type, very passionate. He is really a very great talent and plays in a very natural way. There is really nothing artificial there. I would say that he really changed and matured enormously after the Chopin competition. This might explain his winning the Rubinstein and the Tchaikovsky competitions later on. At the Chopin competition, we actually spoke with him. He recognized that there was something not so stable in his playing. I would say that his best came in the second and third rounds; the first round was maybe not as convincing. Especially in the final stage, with the concerto, he said that it was his first time playing it with the orchestra, and he said that the tempo was a bit too fast and more hurried than what he was used to. So Chopin at the time was maybe not him at his very best. But after these programs, when he was warmed up, his playing became really very wonderful. I think Daniil Trifonov is a name that we will hear again many times in the future. He will become one of the main pianists for the younger generation. EH: What is the greatest musical moment you have ever experienced ? Dang Thai Son: The greatest moment may have been my first public concert at the Chopin competition (laughs). People often later asked me, “How did you win the competition ?” and I simply told them, “because I was like a virgin on stage!” (laughs). It was my first public performance and everything was so new, so fresh and pure – it all happened just one time. Of course, with respect to listening to another performer, live, someone whose playing made me feel was unreachable was Vladimir Horowitz. EH: What was it about Horowitz’ playing that impressed you most ? Dang Thai Son: I was still at the Moscow Conservatory, and how I got into his 1986 Moscow concert was like a Hollywood detective movie (laughs). There were seven levels of control to get through in order to get tickets to this one-time concert. There were the police, the ticket-control people, and I was a success just to get in. The concert was just unforgettable. I still have in my mind’s ear, in my memory, the sound of his piano (spoken with reverence). The sound and his touch, and how he came to a level where nothing seemed to affect him, was just incredible. The concert was being broadcast live worldwide at the time. We normally get very nervous, but imagine the whole world watching! But he just came on-stage and looked into the camera like a kid, as if it was a children’s toy! He made real music there and nothing bothered him. He had prepared mentally so that nothing would bother him. It did not feel like a concert, but that he was just making music. He started with the Scarlatti Sonatas, and it just felt like he was speaking to us, but with sound. I can see it so transparently now. EH: Did you ever meet Sviatoslav Richter or Emil Gilels ? Dang Thai Son: I had more opportunities to be in some contact with Richter. Of course, I went to listen to many of his concerts in Moscow. The first time we met was actually in Japan. At the time, he had his own music festival. He had planned to play over three consecutive evenings. The first evening was devoted to 18th century music, the second was to the 19th, and the third to the 20th. He played the first two concerts and suddenly, did not want to play the last one. So there was a panic, and the agency asked if there was someone who could replace him. They offered him a list of replacement pianists - with the condition that the chosen pianist would have to play 20th century music. Luckily that season, I had played many works by Prokofiev, Scriabin, and Debussy. So Richter looked at the list of pianists that the agency had given him, and he chose me as his replacement. So after these concerts, we met several times. He later invited me again to play at his music festival in Moscow, which was at the Pushkin museum around Christmas time. At the piano, Sviatoslav Richter looked like a lion – full of life and passion. But as a man, he was the simplest person, even a bit shy. He made me feel very comfortable from the first moment I met him. I was shocked by this. I only met Emil Gilels in concert, and he was a little bit more difficult as a person. My teacher, Vladimir Natanson, and Gilels’ family were very close friends. But I never dared to get any closer to him (laughs). EH: You’ve given master-classes all over the world. Have you noticed any differences with respect to performance practices, technique, and preparation – between students from the East and the West ? Dang Thai Son: Surely, there are some differences. Actually, in Russia, they tend to avoid all kinds of mechanical exercises. Everything is connected to the piece of music. You can fix many technical problems when you are properly connected with the music. But maybe it is not a question of individual practice methods, but the role of the teacher and the way that they coach the student. In Russia, when you work with technique, there is real coaching. The professor sits with you and spends hours to bring up the level of technique. But this type of thing is not as popular in America. These practices tend to take a lot of time and maybe in America, people tend to find many rational solutions to fix technique. Russians perhaps come more from intuition, and technique is perhaps not the primary problem that they work on. They tend to explore the spirit and character of the music, really. |
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| http://www.examiner.com/piano-in-san-francisco/interview-with-dang-thai-son-part-iii EH: Stories about his learning facility and memory have circulated. Did you ever meet Mikhail Pletnev ? Dang Thai Son: Yes, I did. Actually, back at the Moscow Conservatory, Pletnev, Pogorelich, and myself lived at the same student-housing building. It was not so easy to have communication with them; they knew their value (laughs).. But before the Chopin competition, there were the auditions, and I passed the Soviet Union audition ranked No. 1. After this, both of them started to become curious about me. Pletnev did come to hear me at a concert once. Pogorelich also invited me to his room to listen to all sorts of recordings. At the time, in Moscow, Western recordings were not easy to come by. We could only find recordings of the Soviet artists or those from Eastern Europe. But Pogorelich had a way of buying recordings from Western Europe. And when he invited me to his room, it was a big privilege (laughs). About Pletnev, curiously, he and Andrei Gavrilov are of the same generation – but totally different types. Gavrilov seems to play with a bit more intuition; there is a certain wild spirit. But Pletnev is amazing, the intellectual aspect of his playing... For him, everything is so easy. With Pletnev’s teacher, Professor Flier, I remember one time he told Pletnev, “Ok, now you go home and prepare this Beethoven concerto,”. Pletnev went home and forgot which concerto he was supposed to learn. And so, at his next lesson, he brought all five concertos memorized and ready to play (laughs). EH: Is it necessary for young pianists to study the great recordings of the past ? Dang Thai Son: I think that it is always useful, but guidance is needed. It could be positive, but also very negative. Great artists always come with a great personality, and if a child is not ready to understand the difference between these personalities and the intentions and spirit of the composers, then this can be a very negative influence. They might be inclined to mix-up the two. So listening with guidance, to have someone explain what they ought to be listening for, this is probably the best way. EH: What are your thoughts on the phenomenon of Lang Lang ? Dang Thai Son: (laughs) I think he is special. Especially in China, he is like an example that many people have to follow. For this, I would like to be more reserved. There are many different types of pianists. Some musicians are able to give an immediate impression. But one must also appreciate the highest level and value of musicians. This, you can only learn through education. So I think that there is a pianist for every taste – and Lang Lang is one type. But he is not for everyone. EH: Great musicians of the past have said that in order to develop and mature as a musician, it is necessary to read and learn about the world and other art around us. Dang Thai Son: I would say that even more important than this - learning all kinds of things and art around music, is to live life itself. We always say that ‘Art mirrors life’. Our personal lives and our art are very closely connected. If you only practice all day and all night, you will never get anything. You have to truly have something to say with your music, and this comes only from life experience. You have to know joy, happiness, the pains of life, suffering, everything. Then you will be able to express it in your music. EH: Outside of music, is there any art-form that has truly captured your imagination ? Dang Thai Son: I have always loved many different kinds of art. Perhaps one of the most recent ones, combining epochs and technology, is cinema. It can save you a lot of time to learn about different things (laughs). As you know, I missed many things during my childhood due to the circumstances, but movies have given me some knowledge about things I could not have experienced. But also, the structure, the planning of a movie, the conflicts, contrasts, lighting, the feeling of space and timing have actually helped me in my playing. EH: What are your thoughts on the spiritual element of music ? Dang Thai Son: I think that if we go by the orthodox way, the way things should be, we should always be trying to catch the spiritual sense, the ideas and messages of the composer that we are performing. If we do this, then we are realizing the goal of the interpreter. Today, we seem to see much of the personality of the performer into the music, perhaps even more so than that of the composer. But I believe that I belong to those striving to be in the first group. EH: Is the future of classical music secure for the younger generation ? Dang Thai Son: I think that the role of classical music in society is still there, but in a very different way now. Today, we have to accept that there is the influence of technology, and the internet definitely plays a role. Information is like a jungle today, and we have to be more selective. By this, I mean that we must carefully choose the profession of music. The musicians at the very top of the profession, they will never have problems; they will only receive more engagements. But there is a huge range of pianists in the world, and there might not be room or market for many of these. But there are still many things that students can do that are connected to music. EH: What advice would you give to students who are struggling to realize the spirit of Chopin’s music ? Dang Thai Son: I think today, the younger generation has greater technical means to reach where they would like to go musically. With the internet, there is Youtube, and at any time, one can find anything. The big challenge today is that Chopin is a Romantic after all, and his music has to do with real emotions; perhaps even more so, a very personal emotion - with soul. Today, with all of our information and modern technology which surrounds life and speeds it up, digital perfection tends to make things more rational. But one cannot play Chopin without experiencing life either. It is so important to have human contact. If you love someone, what does this mean today ? E-mails ? Text messages ? But you have to experience the range of emotions, the excitement of waiting for a love letter to come in the mail, seeing and touching the ink on the letter that someone has personally written with. These things are so fresh and direct to our emotions. And so, today, it is a bit more difficult to find a connection with nature, with human contact. These are all the different states of human emotion and feeling. EH: In your opinion, what is the purpose of Art in society ? Dang Thai Son: If we look closely at reality and life today, there are many people who have great difficulties - even with something as basic as survival. There are many real problems in this world. Art is not necessarily there just to entertain, but it is an education - one that is very important. Art brings the positive side to life. It is a question of beauty, of courage, and of humanity. For music, it only lifts people higher. You can never listen to great music and feel ugly - it simply does not bring you to that negative side. In other arts, it might be easier to define a positive and a negative side, but with music, because the language is so abstract, everything goes straight to beauty and humanity. EH: What impression would you like to leave with your admirers, and is music everything that you once dreamed it would be ? Dang Thai Son: My dream was a very modest one. I had to do something for my own country. It has now been thirty years since the Chopin competition, and I am still the only one to have an international career. So that’s why, more and more, I devote time towards teaching, not just in one school, but master-classes around the world. I try to encourage the younger generation in Vietnam, and we have an international competition there (the next one will be the second edition of it). There are scholarships for young artists, etc. At the same time, recordings are also very important to leave behind. So I do pay a bit more attention to this. But really, I simply hope to leave something for the next generation. EH: Thank you very much for your time. Dang Thai Son: Thank you ! |
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| http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2011/12/jonathan_biss_plays_all_32_of_beethoven_s_piano_sonatas_.html Beethoven’s Sonatas A pianist who’s recording all 32 of them on what it’s like inside the studio. By Jonathan Biss|Posted Friday, Dec. 16, 2011, at 3:53 PM ET Editor’s note: This is an excerpt from Jonathan Biss’ Kindle Single Beethoven’s Shadow, available at Amazon.com. The challenge of playing the 32 Beethoven sonatas is often compared to climbing Mount Everest, which conveys the degree but not the breadth of difficulty involved. It is misleading to refer to the sonatas as a “body of music,” as they are in fact 32 unique structures, which between them represent an astonishing variety of language and cover more spiritual ground than seems reasonable given that they spring from one man’s imagination. Having already learned and performed 18 of them, I still feel each time I begin work on a new one that I am starting from scratch. This feeling—and the exhilaration and dread that accompany it—will be with me frequently over the next nine years, as I have committed myself to recording all 32 sonatas. Beyond the scope and difficulty of the sonatas themselves, the main anxiety to be addressed before I dared to embark on this project had to do with the process of recording. The intensity of this particular anxiety would not be easy to overstate. I once had a conversation with a record executive who told me that if he were a musician, his favorite activity would be recording, as it affords the artist the unparalleled opportunity to experiment; I have yet to meet an artist who feels this way. My own discomfort with the recording process is multifaceted, but much of it boils down to one fundamental reality that speaks to the artificiality of the setup: the absence, or at least invisibility, of the audience. At the risk of sounding euphemistic, the relationship an artist has with an audience is complex. Despite being reciprocal in only a limited way, it can inspire a remarkable number of the emotions normally associated with person-to-person relationships. Given the right circumstances and the right state of mind, the audience can provide and inspire feelings of tremendous warmth that make performing music exhilarating (for reasons that have as much to do with the “performing” component as with the “music” one). The slightest tweak in the circumstances or the state of mind, though—an ill-timed cough, one insecurity or another nudged toward the forefront of one’s consciousness—and the feelings can turn adversarial. An audience that listens with rapt attention can either quicken the pulse of the performer or make him unaware of the passage of time; an inattentive audience can turn the performer either indifferent or desperate to please, depending on his mentality and the way the inattention manifests itself. So much of this is simply projection—the performer can’t really know what the audience is experiencing (and of course, an audience is not an indistinct mass, but rather a collection of people, each having his own unique experience), and given that impossibility, the audience becomes a very convenient object on which the performer can place his own desires and insecurities. But that does not make the feelings any less real, or the relationship any less vital; after all, what relationship does not involve projected feelings? The performance of a piece of music is, in essence, a three-way conversation between composer, interpreter, and listener. Performers have, out of necessity, learned to deal with the absence of the composer—or rather, we have created a different and more one-sided kind of relationship, based on studying and communing with the music, not an actual connection with the person who wrote it. Consequently, though, the physical presence of the audience has become more important to us than ever. The upshot of this, as far as recording is concerned, is that the experience can feel terribly lonely and isolating. The relationship one has with an audience may not always be positive or even healthy, but it is a relationship, and thus extremely conspicuous by its absence. Musicians often speak, in awed and fearful tones, of the permanence of recording, and there is no question that the knowledge that the recording will never change puts an extra pressure on it to represent a kind of idealization of the piece, rather than a rendering of a moment which is all it can ever really be. But I am increasingly convinced that the vacuum in which recordings are created is equally responsible for the unrealistic desires one has for the finished product. There is always a distance, and often a gulf, between one’s imagination of a great piece of music at any given moment, and one’s actualization of it. But in a concert, this distance becomes somehow beside the point; a performance is, above all, a narrative, and while the performer might frequently be conscious of and dissatisfied with certain details, that central reality remains. The narrative is constantly in flux, not only because of those details, but because of the way the performer perceives the response of the audience. In the silence and the stillness of the recording studio, the performer’s desire—need, even—to feel this response goes unfulfilled, and consequently, there is nothing to distract him from the cold reality of what he hears. The relationship between a performer and an audience might fall well short of being truly reciprocal—the audience, after all, does not play—but the relationship between a performer and a microphone is about as reciprocal as the one between a witness in a trial and the court stenographer: The performer plays, and the microphone quite literally enters what he plays into the record. This literalness, this lack of response—how could it not turn a musician inward? Without anyone to speak with, the sound of one’s voice in one’s own head grows ever louder, and the impossible desire to somehow deliver that idealized performance grows stronger. |
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| And that is the ever-present difficulty of recording: That the desire to communicate the music is balanced and sometimes even replaced by the desire to control the music. And while it would be absurd to pretend that the pursuit of control doesn’t have some role in a musician’s work, it is a pursuit whose basic function is to create constraints, to limit possibility. No matter how uneasily this urge to control may coexist with the desire to make the music evocative and humane, the sterility and the solitude of the studio environment make it extraordinarily difficult to abandon. Extraordinarily difficult, yet essential, at least if the recording is to retain any of the emotional resonance of a live performance. The only real solution to this problem seems counterintuitive, and thus has come to me only very gradually, in fits and starts: One simply has to accept diminished expectations from a recording. A musician rarely goes into a recording session without having performed the piece in question, typically many times. So when one moves from the heightened atmosphere of the concert hall to the cloistered atmosphere of the studio, the temptation is to approach the recording as a summation of all the work and all the performances which lead up to it, with every idea, moment of inspiration, and pleasure-giving turn of phrase somehow incorporated, and every rejected notion whittled away. It may seem hard to argue with the suggestion that in making a recording, which can never have the freshness of a live concert anyway, one should rely on every accumulated bit of knowledge. And yet this attitude dooms the recording to staleness, a certain recycled quality. For first of all, in trying to reproduce an affect from a prior performance, one will find that it doesn’t exist any more. And more important still is the corollary: The more desperately one tries to re-create something, the more impossible actual, in-the-moment, creation becomes. This, I believe, is what is behind the (useful) cliché that a recording is merely a snapshot of one’s relationship with a piece of music at a particular point in time. An attempt to recapture a previous moment will end up sounding like a pale imitation of it; trying to magically summon and put into practice future insights is obviously doomed to failure. Only complete acceptance of the dynamics of the moment—of one’s abilities, priorities, and flaws, both real and perceived—has the potential to lead to the creation of a performance interesting and vibrant enough to merit a listening in a future moment with its own set of dynamics. Musicians tend to say that, when recording, they don’t concern themselves with or compare themselves against past performances. Nice as this sounds, it is, frankly, nonsense. It is true that when recording just about any of the Beethoven Sonatas, the desire to do justice to the music itself is amply intimidating, even without measuring one’s performance against the piece’s recorded past. But it is one of the most fundamental truths about music that a piece does not really exist, except for in the most academic of ways, until someone plays it. And so when I talk about living up to, say, the Lebewohl Sonata, I am talking about living up to my imagination of it, and when I talk about my imagination of the Lebewohl, I am speaking of something which is inextricably tied up with Artur Schnabel, Rudolf Serkin, and Richard Goode—and countless others. I am not in any position to claim indifference to their performances; to whatever extent I “know” the piece, their performances of it are a part of that knowledge. Set against this background, the notion that a recording should aim to be nothing more or less than an honest representation of a moment in time is hugely comforting. It involves a willingness to err, and err uniquely. It is drawn from the idea that the value in a recording is not determined by its relative quality, which in any event is subjective to the point of being immeasurable; its value comes from the accuracy—the honesty—with which it documents one’s relationship with a piece of music. I cannot believe that the search for the “ultimate” performance is the reason people continue to buy recordings of pieces they already own on disc; rather, when the music is truly great—timelessly great—musicians will continue to grapple with it, and the results of these grapplings form a record (pun intended) of our culture’s relationship with the music, through time. With this in mind, I will amend my earlier statement: This attitude toward the recording process is not one of diminution, but a beautiful thing. For all my ambivalence about recording, I am profoundly grateful that there exists by now nearly a century’s worth of documentation of the wrestling match musicians are perpetually engaged in with Beethoven. My own bout with his music has been a major feature of my life for two decades, and the thought that I will now, in some small way, become a part of this documentation, is not intimidating but deeply moving. Still, it would be misleading to say that the Beethoven sonatas themselves and the prospect of recording them have ceased to be sources of fear in my life. But this fear no longer feels constricting—in fact, it was probably never the fear itself, but rather the way I responded to it, that was inhibiting me. The more I imposed expectations of how my playing of Beethoven should be, the harder it became for my relationship with his music to evolve naturally. When Leon Fleisher was 17 years old, Schnabel was asked for his impression of his playing, and his response was both moving and insightful: “His type of talent is not too common. He has imagination and courage. He will try things and face the risk of failure. This is nowadays a rather rare quality. Courage is suppressed by the pursuit of safety.” As I begin this rather overwhelming endeavor, that final, regretful observation serves as a laconic warning against what I would most like to avoid. In recording the Beethoven sonatas, my greatest hope is that I may suppress safety in the pursuit of courage. |
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| 请问论坛诸友，学习钢琴即兴伴奏用国内什么教材好？谢谢！ |
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| 好像都差不多吧! 有一本如何写钢伴的书可以看看。既兴钢伴的最大问题是钢琴水平问题。 我发现既使专业的既兴钢伴大多数也弹不好一个升降号以上的曲子（A大调除外）。 |
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| D大调也除外. |
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| chante知道那个书的具体名字么？谢谢了。 |
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| 怎样为歌曲写钢琴伴奏 http://www.midibooks.net/product-2078.html 怎样写歌曲的钢琴伴奏 http://book.chaoxing.com/ebook/detail_10195257.html |
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| 歌曲钢琴伴奏的写作 http://book.chaoxing.com/ebook/detail_11183884.html |
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| 谢谢CHANTE！这几本书我找找看。 |
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