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RECITAL REVIEW
All-Chopin, All-Ohlsson
February 25, 2001
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By John McCarthy
Garrick Ohlsson's all-Chopin program at Davies Symphony Hall on Sunday ranged from the epic to the intimate. The big technique was present, of course, and so were matters of the heart.
Beginning with the powerfully rousing announcement of the Two Polonaises Op. 26, Ohlsson played aggressively and dramatically at the opening. It was his harmonic awareness, however, that generated such extraordinary, bristling energy. Maximum volume is inherent in the texture of these works, and Ohlsson neither held back nor forced the sound. Both pieces contain a high degree of internal repetition. Ohlsson's focus on the large sweep of the music made for a compelling performance, especially in the second Polonaise.
The density of the Polonaises sharply contrasted with the thinly-spread texture of the following Two Nocturnes Op. 32. Ohlsson's shocking, assault-like intensity at each stretto in the B Major Nocturne, Op. 32, No. 1, disappointingly reduced the strange, startling effect of the unusual coda on the lowered sixth degree, ending in B minor.
The Scherzo in E Major Op. 54, a seminal work in Chopin's development, was played with calm, playful mastery by Ohlsson. Almost catlike, he captured the connotation of the title. Spacious, delicate juxtaposition of contrasts and subtle placement of material distinguished his performance. The Four Mazurkas of Op. 41 begin with an equivocal, exploratory harmonic sense, with a Phrygian rather than diatonic cadence at the close of the first phrase. The substantial C-sharp Minor Mazurka, Op. 41, No. 4, also adopts the Phrygian mode. Ohlsson's playing was exotic, evocative without losing focus. Chopin described the Polonaise in F-sharp Minor, Op. 44, as a "sort of fantasy in the form of a polonaise." Contained within is a sublime Mazurka in the relative major, dramatically contrasting with the heat of the outer sections. Almost volcanic at the return to the Polonaise, Ohlsson erupted with ecstatic abandon.
Three Mazurkas, Op. 50, and the Twenty-four Preludes, Op. 28, made up the entire second half. Chopin's epigrammatic Preludes are the first cycle to be self-contained pieces, not as preludes to something else. Andre Gide asked: "Preludes to what?" The answer might be "to the future," for Rachmaninoff, Scriabin, Debussy, Fauré, Messiaen, and Karol Szymanowski all followed the formal example of Chopin. Chopin brought Bach's Well Tempered Clavier with him to Majorca, where he applied his final touches to the Preludes. As with Bach, linear aspects emerge, and the Baroque ideal of having a single Affekt is present. Baroque advocates of mean-tone temperament from Bach's day would have had a conversion experience had they heard Ohlsson's performance of the Preludes. Exploiting the widest range of mood and color, Ohlsson created a remarkable sense of organic unity. Each key was vividly, unmistakably color specific in Ohlsson's playing. The darkly hued angst of the A Minor Prelude was washed away with extraordinary lightness in the G Major. After the raging turbulence of the F-sharp Minor, Ohlsson played with lonely introversion in the B Minor. Two contrapuntal voices were present in the B Minor, neither intrusive, both singing. This was modern playing in the best sense, scaled to a large piano in a public concert hall. Brilliant, controversial interpretive decisions always suited the size and scope of Davies Symphony Hall. Chopin's music allows for more subtle use of pedal and less theatricality in a smaller space. Ohlsson thoughtfully served as both architect and acoustician in Davies, offering inventive, creative solutions at every turn. (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 |
