Photo by Chester Higgins Jr.
Last Sunday night’s concert presented by San Francisco Performances at Le Petit Trianon in San Jose drew a full house. That was not surprising, considering that the entire program consisted of works by the perennial favorite Frederic Chopin and the performer was the prizewinning and already widely acclaimed young pianist Vassily Primakov.
Right out of the gate, the Barcarolle, Op. 60, proved that the public’s expectations were entirely justified. Despite its humble origin — a simple song of a Venetian gondolier — Chopin’s Barcarole is a highly complex work, both compositionally and pianistically.
It is by no means an easy program opener. Primakov offered the listeners an engaging mix of natural ebb and flow with an evocative cantilena. His uncommon dramatic flair was also immediately evident. He brought to the Barcarolle a mercurial intensity, moving the piece inexorably toward an exhilarating climax.
A complete set of Preludes, Op. 28, played before the intermission, was, however, a mixed bag. A beautifully turned phrase in the B-flat major Prelude, an eloquently annunciated recitative in the F-minor Prelude, an electrifying agitation in the F-sharp minor Prelude — these and some other pieces in the cycle truly benefited from Primakov’s sincere, heartfelt music-making. The G-minor Prelude was marked by a fascinating rubato approach, when surprisingly slow pickups gave way to stirring accelerations.
These virtuosic and fiery [Scherzos] were simply spectacular.
By contrast, the C-minor Prelude, a straightforward funeral march, moved way too slowly. The clock — or the bell — that strikes 11 times at the end of the A-flat major Prelude was now appearing, now vanishing for no particular reason. The G-sharp minor Prelude fared the worst. Primakov’s fingers barely negotiated the overly busy chromatic line in the right hand, which is not even the main thematic event in this Prelude (the middle voices and the bass are far more important here). It was a heavy, noisy, unlikable affair.
Hands Off the Pedal
And then there’s the pedaling issue. Chopin’s pedal markings are meticulously precise. He mulled over them for long periods, moving the indications a bit to the right or to the left, or going back to the initial markings. Yet one almost never hears pianists pay enough attention to the composer’s pedaling instructions. Unfortunately, in this regard Primakov was no exception. He added the pedal where none was indicated (or needed) and shortened it where Chopin prescribed continuous pedaling. For example, the ending of the last Prelude will sound absolutely horrifying if, in the last five bars, a pianist carries out Chopin’s continuous pedal that blends together two D-minor chords, a dissonant arpeggiated crush across the entire keyboard, and the three ominous bell peals in the bass. Primakov diluted this horrific finish by unnecessarily cleaning up the overwhelming pedal effect written by the composer. I am not suggesting, of course, that one absolutely cannot alter Chopin’s original pedaling. All I am saying is: Give it a chance! If Chopin took the trouble to painstakingly notate the pedal, he did so for a reason.
His delicate, stunningly fast fingerwork was flawless, unlike the occasional earlier clunkers in the Preludes.
The second half of the program featured four Scherzos, and these virtuosic and fiery pieces were simply spectacular. At a moment’s notice, the music would shift back and forth from a ferocious drive to gossamer, quicksilver passages or to entrancing melodic gems. Primakov was at his best in all these areas. In the high-voltage dramatic sections, he was thrillingly impulsive, creating a huge sound but without assaulting the ear or demolishing the instrument. His delicate, stunningly fast fingerwork was flawless, unlike the occasional earlier clunkers in the Preludes. And the captivating singing tone in the slower sections was impeccable (this was often accompanied by discernible but not distracting vocals, emanating from the pianist).
There were three encores. One, curiously, took place in the middle of the second half of the program. After the audience responded with a standing ovation to the breathtaking Second Scherzo, Primakov cooled down the overcharged atmosphere with a poetic reading of Chopin’s A-minor Waltz, Op. 34, No. 2. The ferocious ending of the Fourth Scherzo brought more standing ovations and another encore: two elegantly whimsical Mazurkas from Op. 63.