San Francisco Classical Voice

Even in playing a more conventional program Sunday in UC Berkeley's Zellerbach Hall than the intriguing one that had been announced, Emanuel Ax still showed why he is a most respected pianist for both classical and contemporary music.

From its opening bars, Ax's version of Haydn's Sonata in A-flat major drew us into an intimate world of sound. He achieved remarkable shadings of piano and pianissimo with a light, playful touch. He was able to treat the first movement's wandering right-hand passages as if they were describing a fascinating narrative, full of sudden turns and bright ornaments. In the second movement, Ax took a figure that repeats in different keys and registers and executed each variation as if a different instrument were playing it. He prolonged tension through long arcing phrases--longer, sometimes, than seemed imaginable.

In place of a work by George Benjamin, Ax played John Corigliano's 1985 Fantasia on an Ostinato, composed for the Van Cliburn Competition. In the program notes, Corigliano cites as his inspiration the "near-minimalistic use" of ostinato in the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. Commenting from the stage, Ax called the theme "monomaniacal rather than minimalist," then played the opening of Beethoven's movement and quipped "If you don't know it, I highly recommend it."

Corigliano's Fantasia begins by deconstructing the theme, reshuffling its stately chords, and piling them up in dissonant clusters. He elaborates on the incessant rhythms, and breaks the chords into arpeggios which transmute in minimalist patterns. Unfortunately for Corigliano, this served more than anything as a reminder of Beethoven's greatness as a composer. But Ax played it with conviction and sensitivity. Strange, though, that Corigliano would choose the Seventh Symphony passage for a minimalist study. A more obvious choice would be the development section of the Sixth Symphony's first movement.

None of the rest of Ax's program matched the excitement of his Haydn. Before Debussy's Estampes and L'Isle joyeuse, he asked, "Excuse me, am I the only one hearing something?" pointing to Zellerbach's ceiling. "It's the rain!" audience members shouted, to which Ax shrugged in reply, "Ah, in that case, there's nothing we can do." But he seemed distracted by noises around the hall during the Debussy.

The clarity that had made Haydn sparkle worked to disadvantage here: the pagodas were a little too exposed, the Soirée adopted the glare of daylight, and there were "jardins" but no "pluie" other than the pitter-patter on the roof. Each piece revealed transcendent moments: gently fluid arpeggios at the end of Pagodes, cascading sonorities like subtle aftershocks from the climax of "Soirée dans Grenade." Similarly, Ax's performance of "L'Isle joyeuse" was solid and controlled, admirable playing without risk.

Schumann has been getting some revisionist readings in the last few years as pianists pay more attention to his radical nature. The 21st century may be more ready for Schumann's explosions and silences, irregular rhythms, sudden sforzandos, vitriolic humor, and cryptic characterizations than audiences of the 20th century, when performers covered up Schumann's strangenesses. Ax's Carnaval was more of the conventional variety: in Pierrot, for example, the sudden forte three-note figure was not an abrupt interruption but a refined continuation of the phrase before it.

Other dynamics that could have been emphasized, like the sforzandos in Pantalon et Columbine, were tamed into a respectable context. Ax rushed through one piece after another, without differentiating much between individual characters. For a concert which started with so much color, variety, and sense of scope, it was odd to finish on such a monochromatic note.

(Sarah Cahill is a pianist and a music critic for the Express, and hosts a music show on KPFA (94.1 FM) every Friday from 10 a.m. to noon.)

©2000 Sarah Cahill, all rights reserved