Volume 21 Issue 3 - November 2015

estrained. Kholodenko takes the first two movements almost ad
libitum alternating between the pensive approach of the opening
movement and his dazzling chromatic octave runs in the second. But
the third is where he explodes out of the gate with real drama. The
palpable energy and crisp articulation make this a performance hard
to surpass. This is Kholodenko’s second recording for the label. His
third is the Prokofiev concertos the first disc of which we can expect
the first disc in 2016.
Last month’s column reviewed several
discs using period instruments. American
Romantics, The Boston Scene (Piano Classics
PCL0080) does something similar using an
1873 Chickering grand in a historic Episcopal
church in Charlestown, MA. The instrument
benefits from modern action and sounds more
like a contemporary piano than a fortepiano.
Still, its darker colours and unique upper
register voicing remind us of its vintage. Pianist Artem Belogurov
clearly loves this piano and as much caresses it as plays it. His repertoire
choices reveal how much this late romantic American school
owed to its European origins.
It wasn’t until the next generation of composers, the modernists
of the early 20th century, that an identifiable American voice began
to emerge. Still, this disc’s program helps us understand the creative
heritage from which that sprang. Highly programmatic, these short
pieces by Foote, Paine, Chadwick and Nevin are beautifully written
by composers who knew their craft well. Belogurov commits to them
wholly. His playing is sincere and utterly convincing.
The disc is enlightening, entertaining and offers a profoundly satisfying
final track with Margaret Ruthven Lang’s Rhapsody in E Minor
Op.21. Published in 1895, it’s the most substantial work on the
recording and demonstrates a remarkable affinity between composer
and pianist, across cultures and generations.
Some four decades later Leonard Bernstein,
then in his late teens, wrote his Sonata for
the Piano (1938) and Music for the Dance
No.2. These two works open and close pianist
Alexandre Dossin’s program on Bernstein:
Thirteen Anniversaries (Naxos 8.559756).
Dossin is Brazilian-born, Moscow
Conservatory-trained and now teaches in the
U.S. He plays the Sonata with all the boldness
and assertiveness that the young Bernstein brought to the page.
It’s brilliant music and brilliantly played. The three-movement Music
for the Dance is polytonal and angular in rhythm. Dossin understands
Bernstein’s structures and always keeps the principal ideas up front
for us to follow.
Thirteen Anniversaries from 1988 is the last of four such collections
of miniatures Bernstein wrote for his family and numerous friends.
A half century separates these from the early compositions on this
disc and the difference is remarkable. Dossin conveys what the older
composer is feeling. For Stephen Sondheim is a heartfelt tribute to
his friend and librettist with very subtle harmonic tilts in the direction
of Broadway. In Memoriam: Ellen Goetz is simple and profoundly
moving and serves as a fitting close to the set. The 1943 Seven
Anniversaries contains tributes to Aaron Copland as well as Serge
and Nathalie Koussevitsky and others. Dossin finishes this set with an
aggressively energized For William Schumann. All of it is superb.
Felt Hammers (Tantara TCD0314FHM) is a
collection of the piano works of Michael Hicks
played by Keith Kirchoff. This disc is far from
common fare but more than a few will like it
– a lot. Contemporary and a bit experimental
in both composition and performance, the
music has titles that reflect strong allusions
to the sacred, poetic and philosophical. Still,
one hesitates to deem it entirely programmatic. With the piano tuned
to Werckmeister III (a tuning system with subtle shimmers in certain
keys), Kirchoff plays the instrument in the conventional way, but also
stops and plucks strings manually and occasionally adds vocalizations.
The core of the program is The Stations of The Cross and its narrative
is easy to follow. What raises this composition far out of the ordinary
is that Kirchoff has fully captured Hicks’ intention to use the piano in
ways that create new and powerfully evocative sonorities. These are
sound paintings that strongly project images of Jesus’ journey from
condemnation to death and burial. It’s emotionally graphic, though in
an abstract way.
The Annunciation is the only piece that extensively uses familiar
keyboard technique. Its technical demands are high and Kirchoff
meets them capably. The disc opens with a helpful introduction to
Hicks’ keyboard language. The Idea of Domes is a simple keyboard
tone poem that delivers exactly what its title suggests and prepares
the listener for what’s to come. The closing track L’épitaph de Monk
is based on Thelonious Monk’s Crepuscule with Nellie and echoes the
rhythmic note clusters that punctuate Monk’s original. Those in the
target niche for this recording will find it very gratifying.
Since winning first prize at the 2000
International Chopin Competition at age 18,
Chinese pianist Yundi has scarcely stopped
to catch his breath. Countless international
tours and 16 recordings later Yundi’s energy is
as impressive as ever. His latest disc is Yundi
Chopin Preludes (Mercury Classics/Deutsche
Grammophon 4811910) which presents all of
the Op.28 Preludes plus the Op.45 in C-sharp
Minor and a posthumous work as well.
While each on separate tracks, the 24 preludes are produced with
very little time between them and give the effect of a larger single
piece. This has the novel effect of joining Chopin’s disparate ideas,
many less than a minute long, into a statement that he may never
have considered. If anything, it allows us a high-contrast glimpse of
his remarkable imagination and technique, none of which is beyond
Yundi’s grasp. His playing is often unbelievably fast as in the Prelude
No.18 in F Minor, but never sacrifices clarity or phrasing. Others like
the No.23 in F Major move with an enchanting fluidity. It’s a breathtaking
recording and easy to play often for the sheer marvel of it.
Film music became its own form when
musicians first started playing for silent
movies. Largely given to supporting and
enhancing the emotions portrayed on the
screen, film scores occasionally rise beyond
their usual task and stand on their own artistic
merits. Composer/pianist Francesco Di Fiore
has taken this a step further by creating a video
and piano performance project using selected shots from a variety
of modern films and has reinterpreted the film scores as minimalist
keyboard iterations. The studio version of this live project is Piano
Sequenza – Piano Music in Film (Zefir Records 9642) and is a remarkably
intimate listening experience.
Most of the music selected for this recording was already pianocentric,
either written for the instrument as solo or using it to carry
the main thematic idea. Di Fiore’s reinterpretations have the effect of
being artistic distillations, powerful for their links to films we know
well, The Piano, The Hours, The Truman Show and others. And while
there is a strong melancholic undercurrent to it all, he infuses it with a
clear and uplifting simplicity that has a lingering effect.
Whether he is spinning the ideas of Michael Nyman or Phillip Glass,
Di Fiore succeeds in turning the piano into a unique voice, through
which we experience the film world of directors Peter Weir, Jane
Campion and the others included on this unusual disc.
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