San Francisco Classical Voice

In each half the music moved from nocturnal or dreamy states through etudes to waltz time (counting the large joyful 3/8 rhythm of the Debussy octave etude) before launching into the big religious work. Was there meaning in this? Was the contrast between salon music and "serious" music to be felt? Was there meaning in the movement from the Liszt/Dante vision of Hell to Messiaen's vision of Heaven? Was it a sensual thing, moving from music that required little intellectual engagement and great sensitivity to nuance, color and style, to music that did engage the mind but also made extravagant demands on the senses (both the Liszt and Messiaen involve pulverizingly loud sounds that seem to assault more than just the ear)? Or were we meant simply to sit back and savor an evening of archetypal piano music, some of it wearyingly familiar?

Why, if that were the case, would Thibaudet choose such familiar and beloved pieces that instantly invite comparison with the great pianists of the recent past? Did he have anything to say about Chopin's works or Debussy's etudes that has not been better said before? Did he fancy himself a miniaturist, a colorist, a poet, or even a naughty wit such as Cherkassky or Cziffra? Throughout the recital Thibaudet rarely displayed a real cantabile tone, and his left hand often made loud and busy noises that distracted from the sleek lines of the music, as in the first Nocturne. Almost every forte passage during the evening suffered from a lack of balance and voicing.

Why did Thibaudet choose to perform Liszt's daunting "Dante” Sonata when it appeared to be beyond his technical and musical capacities? As a practicing pianist (in both senses of the word) I am the first person to acknowledge that we have off-nights; we get sick; sometimes we are simply struggling heroically and need to be cut some slack. Also there are many Schnabels and Kempfs out there who have great things to say despite a fallible technique. Nonetheless, there is a bottom line for a professional musician, a famous professional musician, a minimum standard that must be maintained.

Thibaudet's technical control was shockingly off on Tuesday night, and his "Dante" Sonata was one of the messiest performances by a professional artist that I have heard in 45 years of concert-going. The Chopin nocturnes and etudes all suffered from balance problems, and the various technical demands of the Grand Valse Brillante (not particularly Olympian demands), such as repeated notes and arpeggios, seemed to present difficulties. Two of the Debussy etudes ("Arpèges" and "Octaves") were blemished technically, and the final Messiaen, while better, also had its share of technical and musical problems.

Why play this program? When the early Chopin selections indicated a lack of technical finesse and a problem with balance, I started listening even more keenly for compensating depth, timing, thought, organization of structural details, anything that would justify salon pieces, etudes, and over-the-top religious pieces. Cortot, Schnabel and other seriously flawed pianists are among my favorites, so I was more than willing to suspend disbelief, but sadly for me there was nothing to justify this repertoire. To my ear the etudes were labored, the nocturnes busy, and the waltzes unlovely, save for the occasional graceful or witty gesture that any performing artist learns to do.

Except for that irritating little fish, whose jazzy dreams were admirably caught by the pianist, the Satie was played with such lush and fervent pianissimos that the composer's lean dry wit vanished in a haze of smoke and cocktails. The Liszt is a magnificent work which exists on the edge between insane bombast and heroic and tragic declamation – even the loudest passages should be introspective in some odd way. To succeed in performing it the pianist must negotiate a perilous path between noise and extra clarity, struggle and ease, and have the strength to shape gigantic gestures and to control massive timings and breaths. Finally there must be a humble and natural surrender of strength in the quieter passages without any other agenda. Occasionally Liszt the performer and visionary wrote music that is on the edge of "performance art," music that is not perfect in itself but ecstatic and revelatory in the hands of an inspired actor/artist. Thibaudet did not demonstrate the depth, heroic poetry or largeness of spirit this music so badly needs.

The Messiaen was also an odd choice. Certainly it balanced the Liszt, but it is also the final utterance of a monstrous and ecstatic twenty-movement religious work, with constant references to themes, moods and rhythms that have come before. The hugeness of its sound and shape depend on a cumulative experience. To be dropped suddenly into its immensity and audacity after three Debussy etudes is akin to experiencing a vision of St. Francis immediately after an episode of "24" or "Letterman," no matter how witty or well-constructed these episodes may have been. And Thibaudet handled the immense vision far too literally: every performer knows that long passages of super-soft or super-loud music need to be paced and varied. His relentless and unchanging fortissimo passages became something that we watched with bewilderment and irritation, rather than being swept into an ecstatic rapture. The evening concluded with two encores, an early Chopin waltz and a slight salon piece, the name of which eluded me.

Why is this pianist presented by San Francisco Performances? Why is his reputation so strong in this country? Why did he perform this program? It certainly was a depressing Tuesday evening. Perhaps it was a good thing that I was surrounded by so many people having such a good time.