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RECITAL REVIEW
A Brilliant Intellect At Work, But Heavy Hands
March 3, 2001
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By Michael Zwiebach
When I hear Charles Rosen play Beethoven, I am forcefully reminded that the piano is an analyst's instrument. In a Mills College recital Friday night, which also included Chopin and Brahms, Rosen's large-scale architectural approach paid some dividends but as often resulted in opportunities missed. The overall effect was disquieting, contributing to uncomfortably overemphatic performances.
To his credit, Rosen has lost none of his zeal for the standard works of the piano repertory. After the restrained opening of the Appassionata Sonata, the muscular, syncopated arpeggio that announces the work's true scope burst forth with blazing energy. And the pace never flagged through the final pages of the piece, taken in a very convincing presto.
Rosen's greatest strength was his ability to fold motivic details into the broader picture of an entire movement or a full piece. Clearly delineated inner voices and sharp, accurate rhythms consistently pushed such details to the fore. The dotted rhythms of the bass theme in the Appassionata's second movement, which become a syncopated variant and also the transition to the third movement, uncoiled like a tightly wound spring. The connections between the second movement's figuration and the third movement's theme became, under Rosen's hands, a continuous and relentless forward motion.
But Rosen's strengths also had deleterious effects on expression. There appeared to be little dynamic range between a clamorous forte and a still-weighty softer touch that never reached a true, whispering pianissimo. Sforzandos tended to be heavily punched, useful for creating contrast but somewhat dulling over an entire evening. In Beethoven's F Major Sonata Op. 54, the sonata that immediately precedes the Appassionata (Op. 57), a quirky minuet theme gives way to a bravura passage in double octaves, and in that broad contrast Mr. Rosen showed off an effectively deployed virtuosity. But the second (and final) movement is a perpetual-motion piece with a prevailing soft dynamic shaded by incrementally louder passages. Rosen did not have the touch to give this movement a range of color and detail. His climaxes were simply too sinewy for the intimate Mills College Concert Hall. The color problem was even more bothersome in the Chopin selections. The Polonaise-Fantasie, Op. 61, and the Ballade in F Minor (No. 4) were positively Lisztian in places. The Op. 64 Waltzes, which include the famous "Minute" Waltz, were stiff and lacking delicacy. Here, more than in the Beethoven's sonatas, some fudged passagework was noticeable. Rosen has command of basic expressive techniques of Chopin performance, such as rubato and use of the sustaining pedal, but he uses them in as unimprovisatory a manner as it is possible to imagine. The Chopin pieces too would have benefited from greater variety of touch. In the second half of the concert, Rosen presented an inventive piece by the young Johannes Brahms, the 25 Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Handel, Op. 24, in a rendition consistent with his Beethoven performances. And in some places, the pianist achieved a lightness of effect that he had previously hardly aimed at. Despite the problems, it was heartening to hear Rosen's still-vigorous intellect at work, even if his fingers are less willing than they used to be. (Michael Zwiebach holds a Ph D in musicology from UC Berkeley, specializing in opera, and is a lecturer for the San Francisco Opera.) ©2001 Michael Zwiebach, all rights reserved |
