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RECITAL REVIEW
April 9, 2006
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Brilliant Virtuosity or Empty Bombast? By William Wellborn
Opinions on art and artists are always highly objective, and many age-old clichés about one person's bitter and another's sweet abound. Yundi Li is a pianist who will no doubt divide audiences on the value of his various merits. He is an exciting and vibrant artist with an extraordinary technique and a fantastic amount of rhythmic energy. Or is he just a shallow virtuoso who races through the music while missing most of its deeper meanings? For my taste, Li's program of Mozart, Schumann, and Liszt last Sunday evening at Herbst Theatre brought more questions than answers.
Certain things about Li's playing are not open for questioning. He has, without a doubt, an astonishing physical ability at the instrument and is a phenomenally talented pianist. His fingers are nearly infallibly precise; the scales are as smooth and even as glass, and his octaves are faster than those of almost anyone in the business. If cleanliness is indeed next to godliness, then Li sits impressively high in the pianistic firmament. He has a generally fine grasp of structure, and the music always unfolds with a strong sense of both direction and propulsion. In short, there is seldom a dull moment. Regardless of divergent opinions about his musical choices, it must be recognized that Li possesses a personal charisma that is engaging and compelling.
On the other hand, many of Li's musical choices seem highly questionable. The sound is brilliant to the point of glassiness and lacks warmth. His exaggerated focus on projecting the melody illustrates a remarkably strong right-hand fifth finger, and an underdeveloped sense of polyphony and tonal variety. The loud playing, of which there was a great deal, was mostly noisy. One longed in vain for a truly ringing and unaggressive forte, and for the occasional touchingly ethereal pianissimo.
The program opened with Mozart's Sonata in C Major, K. 330. Here Li's precise and crystal-clear articulation was coupled to a sprightly rhythmic sense and a technical ease. But the impeccable perfection of execution brought only partial delight. Li's monochromatic sound and slightly brittle tone denied the slow movement its singing quality. Though vibrant and stylistically poised, the final movement failed to charm, and the occasional hints of rushing indicated that the movement was led more by the hands than the heart. Everything was in its place, but.... Schumann's kaleidoscopic set of 21 intertwined character pieces known as Carnaval came next. But Li's kaleidoscope needed more colors, and there were many characters left undefined. Pierrot and his rakish humor seemed absent; Coquette did not beguile the ear with flirtatious grace; Paganini substituted pointillistic poking for virtuosic élan; and the "poetry" of the Chopin movement kept the listener emotionally at arm's length. On the other hand, Li dispatched the set of vignettes with razor-sharp accuracy and brilliance (that word again!), and the audience was continually swept along by his youthful vigor. One had to marvel at the effortless aplomb with which Li tossed off the repeated notes in the Reconnaissance section. Here was a rare morsel of charm and sentiment in a perfect combination of technique and musical meaning, proving that Li could also be marvelous in the complete sense of the word. If only it would have happened more often. The second half of the program was to have been Liszt's barn-storming Spanish Rhapsody and Chopin's Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise, Op. 22. Since Li is the winner of the 2000 Chopin International Piano Competition in Warsaw, the inclusion of the Chopin was only natural. However, a change of program offered instead a barn-storming version of Liszt's Sonata in B Minor. Liszt's monumental opus continues to attract pianists, since it allows them a full display of their abilities, both musical and technical. Often, it also reveals a full display of shortcomings. By now you must know that Li need not fear exposing chinks in his technical armor. His was a fleet, athletic interpretation with many astonishing moments. The finger work was always precise, the octaves absolutely coruscating throughout (even in the slow section, where they should have been melodic), and the fugal section was as fast as I have ever heard, with no loss of clarity — truly impressive. But was it meaningful? One could (and I did, to an extent) enjoy Li's reading for what it was — an exciting and effortless ride through a well-known piano race course. But if one wanted to hear Liszt's sonata as a journey exploring the depth and mystery of human existence, as revealed through his transcendent musical masterpiece, this was not the place. Two encores rounded out the evening. First came a Chinese piece, "Sunflowers," a light, carefree ditty artfully dispatched with real charm and elegance. Rather startling to hear such a trifle after the Liszt sonata, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. And then, for those who felt cheated by the omission of the announced Chopin, Li offered the Grande Polonaise from Op. 22, without the Andante Spianato. Li tossed off the piece with bravura and ease, inspiring the majority of the audience to a standing ovation. For those who enthusiastically applauded, cheered, and delighted in Li's astonishingly brilliant brand of pianistic athleticism, the concert must have been sheer heaven. For the rest of us . . .
(Pianist William Wellborn performs and lectures in the United States and Europe, and from 1995 to 1997 was host of the program "Piano Legacy" on San Francisco radio station KDFC. Wellborn is on the faculty of the San Francisco Conservatory, where he teaches courses in piano, piano history, and opera.)
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Yundi Li
