Unshowy Genius

I came in hopes of a full solo recital from Leon Fleisher at Herbst Theatre on Saturday. I left grateful that Fleisher is back and in fine form as a soloist, and that he shared the stage with his wife, the pianist Katherine Jacobson Fleisher. The program included two late masterpieces by Schubert: one for piano duet, one solo. It was a combination that brought to life the rich outpouring of music that was Schubert’s crowning achievement and demonstrated that, two-handed or four-handed, it is the heart that counts.

The Fantasy in F Minor, D. 940, for piano four hands opens with a simplicity and gravitas that can only be found in a late Schubert work — some hushed broken chords in the bass. In Schubert, you’re never quite clear whether it is the harmony or the melody that leads. One of the main pleasures (and pitfalls) of ensemble playing is listening to and responding to harmonic hints made by other parts. Although the Fleishers don’t seem all that interested in a unified sound, this did not detract from, but rather enhanced the contrasts of the music. The result was greater than the sum of its parts. Led by the deep sonority of Mr. Fleisher’s bass in the secondo, all of the far-reaching modulations that simply and naturally lead the music into new harmonic regions seemed preordained and right. The pair’s profound conception of the work encompassed the spontaneous, even improvisatory, quality Schubert’s music needs to sound fresh.

Flash of French Brilliance

You don’t usually associate Leon Fleisher with French repertoire. Despite having heard him play the Ravel Left Hand Concerto live (there’s a wonderful outdoor performance on You Tube, see here) during his enforced sabbatical from the two-hand repertoire, the inclusion of the composer’s La Valse for one piano, four hands, seemed an odd choice to place between two of the most sober Schubertian masterpieces. Ravel’s original title for the piece was “Vienna,” and it contains every conceivable variation on the Viennese waltz rhythm. Beyond that, it has no real connection with German music. Fleisher announced from the stage that Ravel did not make the transcription he and his wife would play. (He did arrange it for piano solo and for two pianos.) He said that someone hired by his publisher was responsible, adding wryly, “Sorry, folks, but we’re playing it anyway.” Ravel probably felt that to arrange this cataclysmic piece for piano duet goes against the cooperative ethic of four-hand playing and that two players were bound to collide if seated at one instrument sharing the sustaining pedal. In spite of, or maybe because of this limitation, it was exciting to observe that dance between two players, glissandos flying the length of the keyboard with nary a mishap, even when the page turner ran into difficulties. Although I missed the huge range of color in the orchestral original, the Fleishers made it brilliant and effective, the greatest possible contrast to the concluding work on the program.

Getting to the Essentials

The Sonata in B-flat, D. 960, (published posthumously) was composed during the last months of Schubert’s life. It is a work that is often associated with Fleisher’s great mentor, Artur Schnabel. Schnabel’s approach was to play only music he felt was “greater than any single performance” of it. It was a privilege to hear a performance so personal and yet so reliant on self-effacing music-making, which draws more attention to the composer than to the performer. From the first measures, there was no doubt that we were in the presence of a master worthy of Schnabel’s tradition. The tempo (molto moderato) was spacious, but never dragged or became ponderous. Fleisher took the repeat in the first movement exposition, conveying his belief that Schubert included a lengthy first ending for a reason. With its terrifying outburst, upsetting the “serenity” of the rest of the movement, it dramatically sets off the pianissimo return of the exposition. Fleisher seemed to find even more meaning in the same music the second time through. The second movement was as beautiful as I have ever heard it. I especially appreciated the slight pause Fleisher made before the sudden fall into the key of C major on the last page. In other hands it might have sounded contrived, but he made it magical, granting us a sense of repose that can only be found in great music played masterfully.