Photo by Fran Kaufman
Best known as a super-virtuoso and champion of obscure and oft-neglected works, Marc-André Hamelin has also gained a solid reputation as a composer in recent years. Harking back to an old virtuoso tradition, Hamelin's San Francisco Performances recital on Wednesday featured a second half of his own witty, delightful compositions, capping an evening of spectacular pianism.
Hamelin began with a solemn reading of the most profound Op.1 ever composed: the Sonata in B Minor by Alban Berg. Written under the tutelage of Arnold Schönberg, it is an exquisitely crafted masterpiece. With lines moving chromatically through the dense, dissonant score, there is a constant threat that the piece will fall apart in a pile of unrecognizable shapes.
Hamelin succeeded in delivering the agonizing story contained within the work. He timed transitions exquisitely, and laid out the motifs and inner voices clearly. Tender moments, bursts of anger, hints of optimism, and devastating, heaving disappointments in the dark depression of the conclusion were vivid. It was an excruciating emotional journey where most dare not go.
The Pinnacle
Hamelin then strode on to the venerable Liszt Sonata, also in B Minor. He quickly established that his interpretation would be unlike any other. The pianist's grasp of the structure was impressive, with the important main motifs clearly projected and kept distinct from the decorative or improvisatory elements. For lesser pianists, it is often enough of a struggle to play all the rapid notes.
He timed transitions exquisitely, and laid out the motifs and inner voices clearly ... It was an excruciating emotional journey where most dare not go.
His clarity also came from judicious use of the sustain pedal. Rather than holding it down to blur or even fake the rapid decorative notes, Hamelin sprinkled the virtuosic passages like diamonds, almost without the pedal, a tremendous feat in itself. The spinning notes giggled joyously.
Hamelin luxuriated in a sonata that is often treated as a speed competition. He took moments between the notes and passages. In the opening of the fugato section, he presented the two parts of the theme as if they were insistent, repeated questions. He seared the theme into the audience’s mind. In the most intimate parts of the work, he let the soft, resonant whispers speak fully. It was an exquisite example of how important silence is in music.
The pianist did not, however, cheat us in the pyrotechnics department that makes the piece so thrilling. The blazing fast passages were beyond compare while the giant leaps, and massive chords were made more effective by occasionally extending them an octave lower than indicated, not an uncommon practice these days on the modern Steinway. Not surprisingly, the lobby was abuzz with excitement during the intermission. There were even some in tears. To my ears, it was a historic moment.
Composer-Pianist
Cathy’s Variations (2007), dedicated to Hamelin's fiancée, is a musical portrait of the lady herself — ebullient, playful, delicate, and jazzy. Stylistically, it seemed like a mosaic of Romantic-era composers such as Chopin, and Schumann, with one variation quoting from Beethoven's Piano Sonata Op.109.
When confronted with yet another Paganini Variations, you must ask: “Do we really need yet another one?” There are dozens besides Brahms and Rachmaninov. Perhaps Hamelin was reacting to the absurdity of the idea, taking it out of the box to the point that the box is missing entirely. This is a Paganini Variations to end them all.
The opening theme was already a variation of the original theme, a heavy-handed one with dissonant chords and overflowing energy, like Witold Lutosławski on steroids. Each of the following variations seemed to be either a homage or a parody of various well-known composers. Stylistically, there were reminiscences of Beethoven, Chopin, and even perhaps Frederic Rzewski. Rachmaninov’s version is quoted as well and there was a totally unexpected, absurdist moment when the ending of the first movement of the Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony appeared out of nowhere. The most delightful part was the the final variation which superimposed another Paganini composition, La Campanella, drawing warm laughter from the audience.
The recital concluded with three études from his collection of Twelve Études: No.8 (Erlkönig, 2007), No.11 (Minuetto, 2009), and No.12 (Prelude and Fugue, 1986). They were all exquisitely crafted again in a variety of styles. The Minuetto was particularly distinctive, sounding like jazzy Bach at times. They compare favorably to other collections of piano études from Hamelin favorites like Alkan, Godowsky, and Scriabin.