An Old-Fashioned ‘Clavier’

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The New York Sun

Although Angela Hewitt does not walk around all summer in a heavy coat, woolen scarf, and gloves, nor plunge her hands into hot water just before a performance, her Canadian heritage and her choice to interpret Bach on a modern piano open the floodgates of comparisons to Glenn Gould. On Friday evening at Zankel Hall, Ms. Hewitt took her shot at the greatest challenge of all, the “Well-Tempered Clavier,” as she offered a complete rendition of Book One, with the second book scheduled for Sunday.

As it turns out, she is a very different artist than Mr. Gould. Her Bach is grounded in restraint, daintiness, and aristocratic communication. She eschews the big statement that was her countryman’s most impressive weapon. Where Mr. Gould was a metronomic wonder, always keeping his beat rock-solid if idiosyncratic, Ms. Hewitt is wayward, interpretive. But the most noticeable contrast between the two pianists is a matter of accuracy. Mr. Gould was a master at separating each individual note and giving it life as a unique entity. Ms. Hewitt is equivocal, running tones together and often landing squarely between two keys, creating a number of unwelcome major or minor second intervals. Mr. Gould hardly ever missed a note. Ms. Hewitt, at least at this recital, flubbed dozens of passages.

Sometimes everything clicked. In many of the compendia inspired by Bach, such as the Preludes of Frideric Chopin or “Ludus Tonalis” of Paul Hindemith, the G Major prelude is the second major key piece — the third composition overall — because these composers followed the circle of fifths, the ear most naturally adjusting to G after an initial foray in C. But in the “Well-Tempered Clavier,” the G Major does not appear until the second half of the program, because Bach followed a road map based on keyboard geography, so the next major key after C is C Sharp. In any case, Ms. Hewitt’s rendition of both the prelude and the fugue in G was quite satisfying, her playing stately and refined, the music graceful and ordered. But this was the exception, rather than the rule, that evening.

There have certainly been pianists who were not the most assiduous when it came to accuracy who delivered fine realizations of the “WTC.” German pianist Edwin Fischer was notorious for his mistakes — he even joked about them publicly — but his complete performances of this groundbreaking masterpiece were highly spiritual in character and the listener was swept away by the sheer profundity of what was being laid bare. But Ms. Hewitt is hardly in this class, and her old-fashioned fat fingering ruined many of these little gems.

The E Flat Minor prelude was probably the one most botched and, had this been an isolated incident among the 24, no one would have cared. But after a while, Ms. Hewitt’s sloppiness put this listener into a fugue state.

Ms. Hewitt employed a Fazioli piano rather than the standard — for better or worse — Steinway, and produced upon it a very bright and infectiously spirited tone. When she was good, she was very, very good. But old sayings have a way of being remarkably correct.

Carnegie Hall management gets a black eye for this performance as well. Although Ms. Hewitt paused for a significant break after each quartet of pieces, and likely communicated her plan to the house in advance, the ushers allowed people to enter Zankel Hall as they arrived, creating several disturbing scenarios of opening and closing doors and heavy footsteps, especially during the first grouping of four preludes and fugues. And this led to the inevitable conversations during the music about how other people were spoiling the concert. Considering Ms. Hewitt’s penchant for the small voice and this basement auditorium’s endemic problems with ambient noise, poor Bach didn’t stand a chance.

There were no fewer than four Franz Schuberts active musically in the 19th century. Franz Peter was, of course, the beloved composer. There was, however, another Franz (Anton) Schubert composing at the same time. He was once sent a manuscript of Franz Peter’s incredibly moving song “Erlkoenig” in error and was highly offended, calling the music “rubbish.” Franz Anton’s son was also named Franz and he became a composer as well. Franz Peter’s father, Franz Theodor Florian Schubert, was also a musician and taught the young composer how to play the violin. To add to the confusion, there was a large family of Schuberths also active in music in Germany and Austria during the same period.

One of the many astounding qualities of Franz Peter Schubert was his ability to master a form or genre even on a first and only try. The Octet, chosen as the first work of the season for the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center’s Rose Studio concerts, grew out of the tafelmusik tradition. Its instrumentation is almost the same as the Beethoven Septet (Schubert adds a second violin). In form and structure, it mirrors the Mozart and foreshadows the Brahms serenades, but towers over all in its essentially symphonic eloquence.

There was much to like in this performance, which combined graybeards and aspirants. The ensemble sound was deeply rich and resonant, with a striking bottom provided by cellist Priscilla Lee, bassoonist Peter Kolkay, and bassist Da˜un Zhang. Ms. Lee was also quite impressive in her solo passagework, showcasing a superb tone and enviable nimbleness.

Clarinetist Jose Franch-Ballester is a real find, a young man with a fabulous sound that reminds one of the last days of the all-wooden instrument in the early part of the last century. He has the ability and the good sense to project in several different voices, including sweetly nostalgic, breathily passionate, and busily humorous. His introduction of the main theme of the Adagio was the high point of the evening.

But not everything was peaches and cream this night. This was the least ebullient Schubert Octet in memory, a rather heavy, lethargic crawl reminding one more of Viennese food than Viennese spirit. No doubt veteran violinist Joseph Silverstein imparts much wisdom to his young charges, but his nonchalant phrasing and lazy fingering brought this version down several pegs. Since the other string players — Susie Park, violin, and Teng Li, viola, rounded out the quintet — followed his lead diligently, in fact hardly ever taking their eyes off him, the resultant rendition left us in possession of virtually all of the notes but not a great deal of the music. Normally reliable horn player David Jolley did not have a stellar night either.

This series has become so popular that this season the society has added a second performance, commencing three hours after the initial offering. I attended the earlier show and thus can only speculate, but unless the group had a team meeting during the interval and decided to radically change their approach to this normally lighthearted and energetic work, the later crowd likely heard a similarly ponderous reading.


The New York Sun

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