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RECITAL REVIEW
Weathering April 14, 2002
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By Jerry Kuderna
A Viennese quip which turns the expression "serious, but not desperate" into "desperate but not serious" describes the second of Alfred Brendel's Davies Hall recitals, the one given Sunday night. I came expecting masterful if somewhat predictable playing of the pillars of the piano repertory. Mozart, Schubert and Brahms can seem like a sure thing. What seemed like a safe, possibly somewhat staid evening turned into a unforgettable experience which left cozy platitudes far behind and revealed the vulnerability and courage of artists who face a public which expects perfection night after night.
To begin and end with Mozart seemed a good idea and one which encompassed both the "serious" and the lighter sides of the Viennese temperament. The Sonata in D, K. 311 was written in directly following the tragic A-minor Sonata K. 310 which Brendel played on his Thursday night recital. Both were written in Paris following the death of Mozart's mother, but you would never guess that from the high spirits of the D-major work. Brendel captured the character of the first movement perfectly, gauging the dynamics and even the voicing of the chords with seeming nonchalance. The second movement was deeply songful without ever becoming sentimental. The last movement found an unhurried liveliness which made me look forward to more Mozart later in the program.
Next came the Schubert C-minor sonata, the first of a series of three large works composed during the last months of his life. I was a little apprehensive about this piece, because I was afraid Brendel might do it as he did in his recording, i.e. without repeats. I was pleasantly surprised. In this structurally clear and yet spontaneous reading, each detail fit into the large design. The transition, or rather, plunge, into the development of the first movement, was in itself a revelation. By allowing us to fully grasp the premises of the exposition twice , Schubert allows himself that much more freedom of movement in what follows. The power of the return to the tonic in the recapitulation is also much greater. I particularly liked the way the movement came to a close, as Brendel ever so gently applied the brakes.
The slow movement was as soulful as could be wished for, again without sentimentality. The last statement of theme was heartfelt and the shy modulations which followed a little reticent after such fulfillment and warmth. The laendler-like scherzo and tarentella finale brought out the haunted and fantastic sides of Schubert — a strange cross of despair and impetuosity.
After intermission came the four Ballades Op. 10 of Brahms. This was the least-Viennese work on the program and contains the Northern Germanic equivalent of Schubertian angst. Brendel gave a performance which seemed to reach deep into Brahms' heart as the young composer moved toward the mastery he was to achieve a few years later in the piano quartets and D-minor Piano Concerto. Particularly telling were the spooky staccato fifths that begin the third piece and the eerie descending chromatics that seem improvised, so baffling to the ear and yet completely right in this context. By the time the end of the fourth piece was attained, with its indecision about B major or minor, Brendel seemed to be at the peak of his powers. To close, he chose the Mozart Sonata K. 533/495. This proved a disastrous mistake. To go back to the classical period with scales and roulades running up and down the keyboard reminded one, after the sober reflections of Brahms, of mice on a treadmill. Lovely as this work is, the first movement has always struck me as a bit of a put-on. Toying with his compositional prowess, Mozart dares us to take him seriously. Far better would have been a mad work by Schumann, a group of the novelettes perhaps. Brendel must have realized this, because during the first movement of the sonata, he became lost in the maze and, unbelievably, could not find a way out. He tried vainly to continue. It seemed as if music itself had spoken. "No more of this now. You must realize that it was only written in jest." I am sure I was not the only pianist there who held his breath in empathy. After a horror-filled silence, the formal perfection of the recital shattered, the music of the second movement seemed like a divine intervention. It was like someone gently opening a book of music for the master who has played the work a thousand times. Reaching to deep reserves of composure, Brendel continued with the finale, finding moments of greatness while skirting disaster. As if to say "life does go on," Brendel offered a set of Schubert Ländler as an encore. They contained the essence of the spirit of Schubert, full of unpretentious feeling and indescribable sweetness. Impossible to play them better. (Jerry Kuderna is a pianist who teaches in Berkeley and at Diablo Valley College.) ©2002 Jerry Kuderna, all rights reserved |