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Virna Kljakovic at Lisinski Hall, Zagreb

Friday, March 24th, 2017 by Ken Leave a Comment

Virna Kljakovic at Lisinksi Hall, Zagreb 2017

On March 20th, 2017, pianist Virna Kljakovic gave a recital at Lisinski Concert Hall (Lisinski Concertna Dvorana) in Zagreb as part of the Mladi u Lisinskom (Youth at Lisinski) program.

Lisinski was just a 5 minute walk from my hotel along Zagreb’s wide urban corridor Ulica Grada Vukovara. This was the fourth and last performance by young Croatian pianists that I would see on this trip.

Virna Kljakovic

I first saw pianist Virna Kljakovic (bio here) perform on YouTube. Her Chopin – Nocturne in F Minor, Op 55, No 1 video has over 250,000 views now. But my favorite was her Bach-Busoni Chaconne in D minor BWV 1004. When I learned that this work was the anchor for her Lisinski recital, and that she would close with Schubert’s divine B flat major Sonata, I started making plans. 4300 miles later, I was at the Vatroslav Lisinski Concert Hall.

Entrance to Mala Dvorana

Vatroslav Lisinski Concert Hall

Lisinski is Croatia’s national concert venue, comparable in standing to New York’s Carnegie Hall. The Mala Dvorana (Small Hall) at Lisinski is an intimate, modern performance space, somewhat larger than Carnegie Weill. The stage had a black backdrop, and the piano was a glistening black Steinway.

Bach – Busoni: Chaconne in D minor, BWV 1004

Virna Kljakovic performing at Lisinksi, Zagreb

Virna Kljakovic performing at Lisinksi Hall, March 2017

When the dark-haired Ms. Kljakovic entered wearing floor-length long-sleeved black clothing, the ambience was perfect for the somber grandeur of the D minor Chaconne.

This work is Busoni’s arrangement of the Chaconne from Bach’s 300-year-old Violin Partita No. 2 for solo violin. How do you make a piano sound like a violin? Well of course you don’t (even in an arrangement for one hand). Busoni’s dense harmonies make the piano sound more like an organ, and the arrangement is closer in spirit to Bach’s D minor Toccata and Fugue BWV 565.

Virna Kljakovic is a physically powerful pianist, well-suited to the demands of this work. Her opening progression was strong but never overweight, and her restrained pacing made the stately Chaconne ebb and flow like the tide. She seemed equally at home using her left hand like the feet of an organist, or both hands in delicate passages in the upper registers.

I struggle to explain how Ms. Kljakovic managed to paint a Chaconne that is more satisfying than, for example, Helene Grimaud‘s. Grimaud is more refined, but Kljakovic’s rapturous spirituality was compelling. Then there is Kissin. He has tremendous control, while Virna can blur more complex passages. But Kissin tinkers with tempo and over-interprets the finale, while Kljakovic closed with suitably direct and cataclysmic finality.

Franck: Prelude, Fugue and Variation in B minor, Op.18

Franck’s poignantly evocative piece was a welcome contrast to the weighty Chaconne. Ms. Kljakovic’s delivery was pleasantly lyrical, with adept pedal work that allowed Franck’s harmonics to glow continuously throughout the work.

Blagoje Bersa: Mélancolie, op. 76

Blagoje Bersa is a Croatian composer and national treasure. As played by Virna Kljakovic, Mélancolie is a 3-minute salon jewel that swells up in a cloud of harmonics and ebbs away with hints of Gershwin to a reflective close. At moments it resembled the preceding Franck variations. Pianists please take note: Mélancolie would make an excellent encore.

Schubert: Piano Sonata in B Flat Major, D. 960

This famous Sonata opens with a widely-loved melody that sends shivers through this reviewer. For the pianist, every note and nuance must be perfect in order to maintain the spell. Virna Kljakovic had the opening mastered, allowing her to be at her most expressive. I admire how she risked holding back longer at key moments, to great effect.

In the second movement (Andante Sostenuto) the pianist’s affinity for dramatic repertoire was evident. The performance was consummate Kljakovic, sonorous, reflective, and at times painfully beautiful.

The Scherzo was uneven, but the dancing bass of the Trio had clarity and punch. The closing Allegro, at times sounding like Beethoven, was delivered with engaging rubato and playful vigor. I had the distinct impression that the pianist was enjoying herself.

Authenticity

In live performances, we expect more from the pianist than can be captured as audio. From the showmanship of Lang Lang to the gravity of Kissin, top artists use every available modality.

Kljakovic’s grace at the keyboard is noted by her YouTube followers, and was evident at Lisinski. I see similar expressiveness of hand and arm in other pianists from the Zagreb Academy of Music. Somebody there is doing a very good job.

There was no bravado or artifice in Virna Kljakovic’s delivery. Every aspect of her performance was focused on authentic musical expression. When transported, she would tilt her head back and sing inaudibly. The last pianist I saw become so lost in her art was Khatia Buniatishvili, and the audience loved her for it.

Virna Kljakovic’s audience loved her too. She took three rowdy curtain calls and on the last, gave the longest bow I have ever seen from a pianist. It was an unforgettable “thank you” from a unique young artist to her supporters.

Pianists with small hands

Saturday, June 25th, 2016 by Ken Leave a Comment

What does playing the piano do to your hands?

What playing the piano does to your hands

As a child I liked my small hands. They seemed appropriate for the son of writers. Marco Rubio‘s “if your hands are small we all know what else is small” exchange with Donald Trump was decades away.

Delicate hands

My mother told that me I had delicate hands. This became a metaphor for my life. Early in my career I had to fire someone. I could not do it, so I sat in my boss’s office to learn from a man with larger hands. But as he explained things to the unlucky employee, he stumbled verbally. He was as sensitive to the situation as I, large hands notwithstanding.

Large Hands, Small Hands

If having big hands doesn’t make life easier, then having small hands shouldn’t make it more difficult. Or so I thought, until I took up learning the piano. I was half a century past the age when our hands are pliable enough to adapt physically to the instrument.

Rachmaninov, Liszt

At my first piano lesson, I could with forethought play an octave (an eight-note spread). A ninth was uncomfortable and a tenth impossible. I bought the scores of my favorite Rachmaninov piano sonatas, but I had to abandon them because they contained chords that were too wide for my small hands. My dreams were shattered: I would never be able to wrap my fingers round the works of large-handed composers such as Liszt and Rachmaninov.

Virtual Hands

My teacher’s hands are tiny and yet she is a concert pianist, so I asked her about those tenths, those 6-note chords and those unreachable arpeggios. I learned that what is written may not be what is played, and the audience may not notice or may not care. You can omit a note from a chord. You can break or arpeggiate a chord to reach unreachable notes. Such techniques create the illusion that you have played what you cannot play, making your virtual hand larger than your real one.

Sleight Of Hand

It is one thing to be aware of such techniques, and quite another to brave a piece that requires sleight of hand. But I am becoming aware, as my second year as an adult beginner pianist comes to a close, that something has happened to my hands. Those octaves are now easy, and a 9-note spread such as those in Beethoven’s Moonlight first movement no longer leaves my right hand hurting for days. Rachmaninov remains a challenge, but ever since I saw this exquisite performance by Marijan Djuzel I have had my eye on Rachmaninov’s Prelude Opus 23 No. 10 (watch this video, it’s impressive).

Does playing the piano change your hands?

A couple of weeks ago I got to play Chopin in New York. In a photograph taken at the time, I noticed that my right hand looks different. This might just be an illusion caused by loose, warmed-up hands, but I prefer to see it as a Lamarckian response to the demands of the piano. My hands appear to have gotten larger.

Yuja Wang at Carnegie – May 2016

Monday, May 30th, 2016 by Ken Leave a Comment

Yuja Wang at Carnegie Hall May 14th 2016

Yuja Wang comes on stage at Carnegie, May 14th 2016

On May 14th, 2016 I attended Yuja Wang’s recital at Carnegie Hall, with my wife Patti. This performance was the reason I became a Carnegie subscriber a year ago: I had to have great seats, and we did.

The last time I was at Carnegie was to see Kissin (reviewed here). For him, additional seats were placed on stage to squeeze in as many spectators as possible. Not so for Yuja Wang.

Since Ms. Wang’s recital was sold out, it surprised me that she had the stage to herself. I am sure that she was happy about that, however. It can’t be easy to have the audience intruding on your personal space when you are tackling such strenuous repertoire.

Yuja Wang’s Sparkle

People will tell you that Yuja Wang’s clothing has nothing to do with how well she plays, but this reviewer acknowledges that those fabulous outfits are part of Yuja’s brand. I would have been disappointed if she did not look like a diva. I was not disappointed: she walked out on stage in one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever seen. Its color reminded me of the pale salmon that I had across the street an hour earlier at the Europa Cafe (205 W 57th St., recommended). The gown didn’t just sparkle, it flared and outshone the highlights of the black Carnegie Steinway. You can get a hint of that from my photograph.

Brahms Ballade in D Minor

The recital opened with the Brahms’ Ballade in D Minor, Op. 10 No. 1. This was impressively sonorous, and for me the best part of the scheduled repertoire. I settled back to absorb the rest of the evening, but when she moved on to Schumann’s Kreisleriana, I could not feel it. I can’t fault Ms. Wang: I personally have never gotten much out of Schumann.

Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata

After the intermission, Yuja showed up in a dramatic new gown – dark green with a saucy slit on the audience’s side, as seen in my wife’s photograph (credit Patti Turner). If you wanted skin, this was your moment. But while the dress shimmered, Yuja’s performance seemed a little off. The Adagio was haunting but the rest, to be honest, did not work for me. Perhaps she was dulled by playing the same German program again and again. Or perhaps the Hammerklavier is so complex and demanding, that it is as hard for the audience as it is for the soloist.

Yuja: I don’t know what to play!

After the end of the program I wondered which of Yuja’s legendary encores we would be treated to. I had had enough heavy repertoire, as had most everyone else. When Yuja returned to the piano for an encore, the hall was electric with anticipation. She sat at the keyboard for a few moments, then turned to the audience and said ruefully “I don’t know what to play!”

My heart went out to her. This had not been the most inspiring evening. This was partly due to the program, but in some intangible way it also came from the pianist herself. Maybe she just needed to burn some Rondo Alla Turca.

Gretchen am Spinnrade (Schubert, arr. Liszt)

From that moment on, we were treated to the gifted Yuja we love. I have never heard such a beautiful rendering of the Schubert/Liszt spinning wheel, Gretchen am Spinnrade. There are few pianists who can make me teary, but she did. Or watch it on medici.tv: a year’s subscription costs less than dinner for two in New York.

Carmen and Ronda Alla Turca

At this point it had been a long night for us and for the performer. If Yuja had called it quits, that would have been ok. But she came alive with her encores, and so did we. She gave us both Horowitz’s Carmen and the Mozart/Volodos Rondo Alla Turca. I’ve watched these many times on YouTube, but to see Yuja Wang in person, elbows stretched to both ends of the keyboard delivering these delights, was the treat of a lifetime.

Chopin’s Waltz in C sharp minor

Yuja, Verbier 2010

Ms. Wang played Chopin’s Waltz in C sharp minor, Op. 64 No. 2 as her final encore. It was beautiful, especially the last 16 bars.

Most pianists do not bring out the descending right hand notes at the end of each bar (G, G, G, F, E, D, C, D). Kissin does, but Rubenstein, Horowitz and Ashkenazy do not. As written, the pedal comes off at the end of the bar, but Yuja holds her thumb down to sustain this note through the next bar. That’s definitely not what’s written, but it makes for a luminous sound. You can see her do this in her superlative Verbier 2010 video, starting right here.

Yuja Wang at Carnegie May 2016: sublime!

We saw two pianists at this event: Yuja Wang the professional who seemed weighed down by the main course, and Yuja Wang the star who lit up for dessert. The star was the Yuja whom I went to Carnegie to see. She brings out the inner layers of familiar pieces in a way that makes me feel I am hearing them for the first time. At her best, she is sublime.