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For the avid classical music collector, discovering something new can be a thrilling experience. This is, of course, the driving force behind any passionate pursuit. It is especially exciting when this discovery is a purely personal one, not merely the result of an aficionado’s recommendation or a radio station’s choice of programming.
Remembering how I came across the Turkish pianist and composer Fazil Say, I think how easily his talent could have slipped under my ubiquitous musical radar. It was his ‘Paganini Variations’ which were first brought to my attention when researching a fun encore piece to perform which would leave the audience needing to know what it was they had just heard. The theme of the 24th solo violin caprice of Niccolo Paganini lends itself perfectly to the variation format – an instantly memorable tune over a deliciously simple tonal structure. Indeed, Paganini’s original is in the form of the theme followed by 11 variations and a short coda. Everyone from Lutoslawski to Lloyd Webber has given their contribution to the Paganini Variations melting pot, and in all different instrumental combinations too – from carillon to ‘cello and rock band. The theme is not the easiest choice to create something new, something inspiring, and something ultimately worthwhile.
Fazil Say, however, relishes this task. His variations come in the style of modern jazz. Not just this, but each variation has its own distinct genre, from Rumba to New Age to Swing, with everything in between. Somehow, it works wonderfully. Say’s live performance of the work, towards the end of his disc entitled ‘Black Earth’, is simply electrifying. More often than not, there is just the right amount of restraint to allow the virtuosic passages to really fly (in the way we think of Horowitz sounding faster than he actually was). The clarity of the finger work, especially in the streams of quick and quiet right hand notes, is especially commendable – after all, many people can play loud and fast, but playing at the opposite end of the dynamic spectrum requires far greater skill. One of Say’s greatest influences, the incomparable Art Tatum, shines through strongly here. My only complaint – and I would also register this with some of the other live Say performances I have heard – is the tendency to rush the ends of phrases. Whilst this gives the music a gripping sense of propulsion, one can’t help but think complete technical control is being supplanted with a cheap effect. However, though a number of variations are omitted in performance compared with the original score’s version, one still gets the impression of a solid structure, in which the music hangs together well. The enormous creativity involved in the compositional process is evident from the outset with a heavy reliance on syncopation to give a jazzy feel to a standard classical work. Overall, this is a near-perfect encore piece.
Every track on the ‘Black Earth’ CD, which I came across whilst hunting for something entirely different in a classical CD shop in Notting Hill, is written by Mr. Say, and he proves himself to be a very adept composer in a wide range of styles. The opening title track is a wonderfully evocative and atmospheric blend of jazz, modal and traditional Turkish folk music. Instantly striking, the first melodic phrases are played with the right hand on strings that are deadened by the left, imitating the saz, a Turkish instrument from the lute family. The central section reverts to a more conventional playing style, though here we are certainly more immersed in the world of jazz than classical music, with syncopated rhythms and bass ostinati. The piece is a real gem, and would make an immensely enjoyable addition to any pianist’s repertoire – be they jazz or classically trained.
What follows is a violin sonata in five movements, though the first, ‘Introduction’, and the fifth, ‘Epilogue’, are identical. The sonata is full of unforgettable melodies and pulsating rhythms. Skillfully written, the antiphonal writing and instrumental balance are handled with aplomb. Again, neither the Turkish nor the jazz influence is ever far away, and the music is always deeply colourful and full of interest. Off-beat accents and clever piano effects (such as those in ‘Black Earth’) permeate the work and the Perpetuum mobile third movement allows both the pianist and the violinist to demonstrate their technical prowess. Fazil Say is joined by the French violinist Laurent Korcia, whose redolent playing is a fine match for this work.
Say further displays his ability to write convincingly in a number of styles in his concerto for piano and chamber orchestra, ‘Silk Road‘. The jazz element is still there, though pushed to the back of the room in the second movement, ‘Indian Dances’, which follows the rich tapestry of sound unveiled in ‘White dove black clouds’, a first movement inspired by the land of Tibet. The transition between the movements is made clear by the striking of a Chinese gong, though each section’s style is so different one wonders if this is absolutely necessary. Further along the road, the conflicts and contrasts of Mesopotamia are adroitly displayed in a dramatic and deeply arresting third movement, which reminds me of a number of scenes from Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’. Only with the fourth movement, ‘The Song of Mother Earth’, inspired by Say’s motherland, Anatolia, does respite come. A simple yet effective melody emerges over the repeated bass notes of the piano as the work fades to a close.
The ‘Silk Road‘ concerto was written in 1994 and is the earliest work on the CD (‘Black Earth’ and the Violin Sonata both date from 1997, whilst the ‘Paganini Variations’ was completed in 1995). Seven years after the concerto was written, Fazil Say returned to the genre of writing for piano and orchestra. In ‘Pieces for Piano and Orchestra’, written in 2001, the ensemble is huge, with a notably large percussion section. Indeed, the rhythmic pulse throughout the whole work is mesmeric at times. The first movement, ‘Silence of Anatolia’, is in a very similar style to ‘Black Earth’, though on a much grander scale. The second movement, ‘Obstinacy’, is the closest to twentieth century classical music we are going to get from Say. The influence of Stravinsky and Bartok is clear, with complex rhythms recalling ‘The Rite of Spring’, though the harmonies remain in Say’s distinctive Turkish/Western fusion. Both the orchestral performances (Orquestra de Camara Gulbenkian under Muhai Tang in the ‘Silk Road’, and Orchestre National de France under Eliahu Inbal in the newer work) and the solo piano playing (Say himself) are astonishingly committed and rhythmically tight, putting both these works forward as strong contenders for a place in the standard repertoire of a number of more adventurous pianists.
The final piece on the CD, and an appropriate inclusion, showcases Fazil Say’s work with the Kudsi Erguner Quartet. Originating in a ‘jam session’ between a few friends, the ‘Dervish in Manhattan’ combines swing music and Sufi (a type of music with no direct religious affiliation known throughout Asia, which allegedly transports listeners into a state of spiritual ecstasy) in a fast-paced gallop utilising ever-changing time signatures, offbeat accents and rhythmic sequences. The playing of Kudsi Erguner on the ney-flute (a Persian reed flute) is delightfully elastic over the stricter chordal music of the piano part.
‘Black Earth’ is a CD which is exceptionally hard to classify. Is it jazz? Is it classical? I think the answer is neither. What makes for such an enjoyable listen is just how different it is from so much music being performed today. Even though each work – and, if truth be told, each movement – has its own unique style, every note on this disc has the imprint of Fazil Say’s distinctive compositional style. It is this that separates a great composer from a mere methodologist. Coupled with Say’s unfaltering piano technique and musical ingenuity, I believe with all honesty that Fazil Say could, as Le Figaro put it, become “one of the great artists of the twenty-first century”.
Having been abroad during the 2006/7 London concert season, I am extremely excited to be both back in the centre of the musical world and to be greeted in the capital city by a newly refurbished Royal Festival Hall (91 million pounds well spent, we hope!) at the heart of the ever-important South Bank Centre. I look forward to a more pleasant acoustic for performer and audience alike. Previous complaints about the dryness of the sound in the hall were badly in need of adressing – indeed, Sir Simon Rattle condemned the hall saying it was “the worst concert arena in Europe”. I urge him to consider the Royal Albert Hall for that position – I believe the last few phrases from Anne-Sophie Mutter’s performance of her husband’s Violin Concerto at the Proms a few years back are still trying to find their way up to the gallery where I was sitting. Not that we are missing much without them, of course.
The topic of today’s writing though is not the Royal Festival Hall, it is the season of concerts taking place there, and specifically the Autumn-Winter season’s contribution by the Philharmonia Orchestra up until Christmas. As a pianist, I certainly feel somebody else pulled the short straw this time. There is a wealth of piano concerti on offer, and a wealth of pianists.
Nine days after the opening concert of the season (which takes place on Tuesday 25 September and will include Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony – a safe bet), Yefin Bronfman will perform Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto. It’s a huge work and requires a big technique and a big musical personality to master. I recently attended a performance of this work by the celebrated American pianist Andre Watts (who was, incidentally, my teacher at the time) and he certainly showed how it should be done. I have no doubt that Bronfman, who I last saw playing Prokofiev’s Second Piano Concerto as if it was Shostakovich’s Second (technically speaking, of course), will live up to the task, making this concert one not to miss. That is, of course, unless you don’t like the piece. Which I don’t, unfortunately. Maybe I’ll show up for the last movement, when the mood lightens somewhat.
These opening two concerts will be performed under the baton of Christoph von Dohnanyi, who has firmly established himself in London’s music scene as the Philharmonia’s Principal Conductor. The following three concerts in the series fall into very different hands – those of French conductor Charles Dutoit. I hope I don’t reveal a great secret if I mention here that the orchestra does not like Dutoit. This shouldn’t matter too much – after all, the conductor is the only person on stage we don’t have to listen to, and with pieces as oft-performed as the trio of concerts offer I think it’s safe to say an ensemble of the Philharmonia’s standard can pretty much run itself. To that end, a Sunday matinee on Sunday 21 October featuring Grieg’s Piano Concerto (with the winner of the 2000 Chopin Competition Yundi Li as soloist) and Holst’s ‘The Planets’ is hardly adventurous programming, but both Ravel concerti prior to this (on consecutive Thursday nights) played by two bright young talents, Nikolai Lugansky (giving his right hand a rest in the left-hand number) and Simon Trpceski (giving his musical intellect a rest in the jazzy G-major), promise to be exciting events. My advice for these two concerts is to stay on after Lugansky’s performance for what promises to be a rousing account of Ravel’s wonderful La Valse, even if you happen to be a little late and miss Debussy’s Jeux (I may be playing in the bar during that one). Don’t miss the opener of the Trpceski concert though – Bartok’s fantastic and uplifting Miraculous Mandarin Suite. Make the time up to yourself by leaving halfway through – another performance of Debussy’s dreary sea picture La Mer is enough to put anyone off the Eastbourne coast for life, and I rather like it down there.
You wouldn’t believe it, but there are actually three violin concerti by Max Bruch. I recently heard the third one for the first time, and I understand why it wasn’t chosen to be performed by Vadim Repin under the wonderful Vladimir Ashkenazy on Thurs 25 October – it’s awfully long, and not awfully good. Instead, the first was chosen. It’s one of the most popular concerti in the repertoire, as is the Sibelius concerto, being performed by Julian Rachlin under Leif Segerstam on Sunday 4 November in another matinee. Amateur violin-playing Classic FM listeners will get another treat four days after that as Janine Jansen gives her account of Mozart’s lovable Violin Concerto No. 5. They may be in for a shock if they stay on to listen to Mahler’s Sixth Symphony. A masterful work, or a mere reworking of the symphony which preceded it? Bring a book.
Nikolai Lugansky returns the following week, showing he can also play with his right hand, in Tchaikovsky’s overplayed warhorse, the Piano Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor. Tchaikovsky, like Bruch, wrote two more concerti for his favoured instrument. Neither are played often. The second – because who wants to listen to 45 minutes of G major without a modulation? And the third – well I don’t know quite why. It’s a fun piece. Prokofiev’s ‘The Love for Three Oranges’ suite and Rachmaninov’s phenomenal ‘Symphonic Dances’ complete this all-Russian programme.
The week after, on Tues 20 November, a tremendously exciting concert awaits. If you don’t know the Khachaturian Piano Concerto, you should – and what better way to hear it than live in concert performed by the French piano wizard Jean-Yves Thibaudet. I’ve heard Jean-Yves play on numerous occasions and am yet to report a wrong note – a formidable task when dealing with such pieces as Liszt’s demonic Totentanz – although an audience member decided to add a few wrong notes of his own once through the medium of a mobile ‘phone during the first movement cadenza in Ravel’s G-major Concerto. Did Mr Thibaudet flinch? Not one bit. Though he probably couldn’t hear it thanks to the Royal Festival Hall’s old acoustics. Khachaturian’s concerto is a fine work which nobody plays anymore (although the great American pianist who died tragically young in 1953, William Kapell, was a champion of the work). Prepare for something extra special in the central slow movement – I shan’t give it away! In the second half, this concert’s conductor, Rafael Fruhbeck de Burgos, leads Carl Orff’s monumental Carmina Burana with the full Philharmonia Chorus in for this one. Unmissable.
We move on to Thurs 29 November where the celebrated pianist Mikhail Pletnev, who has rather taken to conducting (albeit without a baton), directs a programme straight from Classic FM’s Hall of Fame. I may just forgive him though – after all, who couldn’t love Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto with it’s endless melodies and heart-wrenching harmonies? Soloist here is Boris Giltburg, still well under twenty-five years of age, and a name to watch. Sandwiched between Borodin’s ‘In the Steppes of Central Asia’ and Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony, this is definitely one for your friends who think they don’t like classical music.
For the twelth concert of the season, the Philharmonia Orchestra celebrate Riccardo Muti in his 35th Anniversary Concert. “Of what?” you may ask. Well, it’s the 35th Anniversary since Muti first conducted the Philharmonia Orchestra. Is this really a cause for a celebratory concert? Muti seems to think so, and has selected, you guessed it, a piano concerto to provide the pivotal piece in this performance. Pah! This is no less than the eigth piano concerto the orchestra will perform at the Royal Festival Hall in the space of under two months. And it doesn’t stop here, either. On this occasion, Radu Lupu will be no doubt give a unique and personal insight into Schumann’s masterly Piano Concerto in A minor – just make sure you’re in the first few rows so you can hear it!
As if the season so far hadn’t been piano-centric enough, Andras Schiff does away with the orchestra, twice, in a couple of all-Schubert concerts in early December. He’ll conduct the 3rd and 6th symphonies on 6 December, and the 8th and 9th on 9 December (got that?), but the centre of the programme both times will be a Schubert piano sonata – D784 and D840 respectively. One wonders if he’ll let the orchestra leave. One wonders if he’ll let the audience leave. Or perhaps he has learned not to bang. Or perhaps I won’t go. Yes, that sounds about right.
And so, a well-earned Christmas break for the Royal Festival Hall’s Steinway D awaits, with the final concert before December 25th not featuring a piano concerto. Just another violin concerto. It’s Mozart again – his third this time – and the lovely Hilary Hahn will be playing the solo fiddle on this occasion. Crowd-pleasers are the name of the game for this performance – Tchaikovsky’s striking ‘Fantasy Overture Romeo and Juliet‘, and a few things by Strauss (J and R) complete the programme.
All in all, the variety of music on offer before the holidays leaves one feeling a little disappointed, but for the piano fan there is much to see. Though most of the concerti being performed are established favourites, throwing in Khachaturian’s concerto makes for a pleasing contribution in my eyes. The piano soloists tend to be good rather than great, and it will be nice to see how the young Boris Giltburg fares amongst the more well-known crowd. It’s very possible that his performance could be the most exciting of the lot.
Hello all, and welcome.
You may wonder what interests me in starting a blog and adding to the bottomless pit of content that the internet offers us. I believe I may have something different to say. I have found myself to be a rather ‘one-of-a-kind’ type figure in the piano world at the typical high-rank conservatoire today. It must be said that, for me, less time is spent in the practice room, and more time is spent in the concert hall audience, in the CD library, or on the internet’s wide range of music resources. Through a passion for discovering the undiscovered, unplayed and often unheard of, I have bought a new approach to the music of greater familiarity to the average person. I don’t limit this strictly to classical music (a genre so impossibly diverse in itself!) but will apply it to all serious musical genres from all time periods.
My interest in journalism stems from a history of successful essay writing and a keen interest in anything anyone has to contribute to the world of music. I hope to use this space as a field in which to refine my technique and receive comments and/or criticisms from my fellow internet users and music enthusiasts.
Instrumentally, my particular focus is on the piano, so there may be much of interest here for the avid pianist, but I shouldn’t want to put off any other instrumentalists or indeed just the curious listener! I work a considerable amount with leading musicians in their field (and am very grateful for this opportunity, too!) which has given me a great insight into the world of classical music today.
I look forward to sharing my musings on music with you all.
Best wishes, Ed.
Musings on Music 
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