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RECITAL REVIEW
Combining Schubert And Barber, Remarkably
January 28, 2001
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By John McCarthy
Pianist Clark Griffith presented a programmatic tour de force last Sunday at Old First Concerts that was also a genuine artistic achievement. It required a high level of bravura, in the good sense of the word, to present in a single afternoon both the Schubert Sonata in B-flat Major and the Barber Sonata.
In the opening work, Bach's Italian Concerto (BWV 971), Griffith played with eminently sane tempos in the outer movements. His sheer joy in entering this music was communicated from the outset, his extraordinary level of control never faltering. While rhythmic in a general sense, the rhythmic structure within the phrase was nonetheless sometimes undifferentiated, resulting in a less than buoyant exuberance. The central Andante was beautifully shaped, sensitive and yet sustained. Despite playing that had an oboe-like melodic expressiveness, the movement still lacked for sheer intensity.
To hear the Barber Sonata, Op. 26, in its entirety these days is a rarity. Griffith clearly has an affinity for the work and the capacity to sustain the large-scale structure. The opening Allegro energico movement, thickly textured and brimming with expressive color, was in need of a more malevolent darkness and angst. In the second movement, marked Allegro vivace e leggero, Griffith ably captured the light, lilting quality and upper-register pianistic filigree. The short, bittersweet waltz figure emerged from all the activity with a sense of whimsy.
The Adagio mesto, the emotional centerpiece of the first half, was simply mesmerizing. With every note compellingly played by Griffith, Barber's 12-tone opening accompaniment seemed meaningful and necessary in support of that gorgeous forlorn melody. The quirky fugue subject of the final movement was played with ease and emphatic syncopation. Griffith had a clear grasp of the structure, and each section seemed to find its place in the overall design. This value of proportion allowed for the cadenza to be all the more effective and have its true, improvisatory character. The stretto section was played with extreme clarity, and the suspenseful ending built up early and relentlessly. Schubert's great, last Sonata in B-flat Major, D 960, comprised the entire second half. Unfortunately, in his program notes Griffith glibly characterized all but the Andante sostenuto movement as "gravy." This reminded me of the time in 1960s when I heard Stockhausen describe all of Schubert as "desert," but lets not go there. While the overall sense of space and cohesion was remarkable, there was a need to linger and project the emotional tension of the moment. Beginning pleasantly but lacking a sense of foreboding, Griffith's playing of the exposition needed greater resonance in the low trills and deeper emotional resonance. While responsive to the challenge of containing such a large structure, this was architecture in need of more nuanced character. The sublime end of the development section, with its reiterated notes, was too active, in the style of an Indian drum, lacking a sublime feeling of stasis.
True to his program notes regarding the second movement, the Andante sostenuto lived "at the intersection of certain musical and spiritual truths." In this, Griffith embraced the emotional depths and here approached greatness. Griffith's encore was a gorgeous performance of the Chopin Barcarole, after which I rushed to the nearest sports bar to catch the remainder of the Super Bowl. Such was the power of Griffith's recital that the giant football event seemed quite superfluous. I left shortly afterwards, whistling the Schubert in the afterglow of a remarkable recital. (John McCarthy is a pianist and teacher. He is Director of Preparatory and Extension Divisions at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.) ©2001 John McCarthy, all rights reserved |