Schiff’s Journey to the Sublime
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In preparation for attending the first recital of a projected two-year traversal of the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas by the Hungarian András Schiff that launched on Sunday afternoon at Carnegie Hall, I pulled from my shelves my personal favorite vinyl collection: the 32, as interpreted by the Chilean Claudio Arrau. In the performer’s notes was the following sentence: “In the sense that his life was an existential fight for survival, Beethoven is our contemporary.” Listening to Mr. Schiff with this thought in mind was a transformative experience; in his hands, the first four sonatas sounded remarkably fresh and new.
Technically, this was a splendid realization. Mr. Schiff, who has been living with these sonatas for the past three years, sounded confident and commanding, gentle and poetic, glorious and expert. Employing the sustaining pedal very sparingly, he projected forth a clear and concise version, lapidary and polished. Choosing to present the 32 in chronological order, he delivered all three of the opus Two set before intermission. This is cumulatively a lot of notes, but I detected not a single wrong one among them.
Taking the measure of the F Minor from the get-go, Mr. Schiff emphasized its narrative form, as he is wont to do in music that precedes and follows Beethoven, especially Bach and Schumann. For Mr. Schiff, it seems, piano essays are more like novelettes, complete with literary devices and resultant emotional outcomes. This first Beethoven sonata fit right into this conception, as Mr. Schiff intoned the final Prestissimo in a highly dramatic fashion.
For comic relief, the A Major was buoyantly jocund in the beginning Allegro vivace and delicately humorous in the final Rondo. Within the context of the first four, this work is a bit lighter and somewhat less challenging for the performer. In this fine rendition, though, it seemed the ne plus ultra of the jester’s art.
The third of the sonatas from opus Two, the C Major, is leaps and bounds above its mates. This is Beethoven being Beethoven, and Mr. Schiff made the most of it. Critics can get easily jaded over the years, but listening to this performance made me remember why I chose this profession in the first place. It truly is a privilege to hear Mr. Schiff play Beethoven.
Presenting the work with such clarity highlighted its structural complexities and architectural wonders, and hearing it right after its mates brought out this sonata’s special quality. Had Beethoven turned out to be just another tunesmith, this early sonata would have stood out as some sort of savant episode. It is, however, but a portent of things to come. Hearing Mr. Schiff build the measured Adagio was thrilling.
After intermission, there were indeed a few slips and trips in the Sonata no. 4 in E Flat Major, but here Mr. Schiff’s sense of poesy took over. Pausing significantly between movements — he had not done so at all in the first half of the program, in fact he never even left the stage between works — framed this piece differently. This was a more contemplative reading, perhaps a little less unbridled enthusiasm than in other performances, but ultimately more satisfying.
There were at least several hundred empty seats in the house this day and that is a shame. Most likely they will all be filled when Mr. Schiff returns to present the “Appassionata” or “Hammerklavier.” Those performances will probably be great, but those future crowds will not hear Beethoven laid bare any more profoundly than those of us lucky enough to be in attendance when András Schiff began his journey to the sublime.