Chopin, Liszt:  Maurizio Pollini (piano). Barbican Hall, London, 12.6.2007 (CC)

 

The queues for returns said it all. This was Pollini on core Pollini territory. Pollini recitals are always an event, bringing with them a palpable sense of excitement. On form, he is better than them all.

The all-Chopin first half comprised several shorter pieces. The stand-alone Op. 45 Prelude in C sharp minor was a brave way to begin. The piece breathes a rarefied atmosphere, one that is difficult to conjure up even mid-recital when things are going well. It is a credit to Pollini, then, that his projection of the work's darkness was immediate. The typical absence of sentimentality did not detract from the nocturne-like heart of Pollini's reading.

The Second Ballade (F, Op. 38) began in a rather literal fashion, the speed on the fast side. Contrasts were fiery (and not a hint of blurring) but there were some miscalculations of articulation in the coda.  Much better was the pair of Nocturnes, Op. 27. The first (C sharp minor) actually sounded rather modern, like a more daring twin to the Op. 45 Prelude. It was imbued here with a stunning sense of flow and a superb realisation of contrapuntal workings. It led beautifully into the famous D flat Nocturne. Here Pollini gave the climax more heft than one might expect within the framework of a Nocturne; nevertheless, it worked wonderfully (as did Pollini's light filigree).

The Third Scherzo (C sharp minor, Op. 39) found Pollini more inclined to také risks (not all of which came off!). This was a primarily gestural reading, whose contrasts were more marked than I have heard before. Finally for the first half, an A flat Polonaise (Op. 53) of much nationalistic swagger.

The great mountain of the Liszt B minor had almost certainly had something to do with the capacity audience, over and above Pollini's own pulling-power. By prefacing it, as is his habit, with short late Liszt works, the Sonata's progressive elements are strongly foregrounded. A disturbing sequence of Nuages gris (unutterably moving), Unstern ( stark lines, pounding climax); La lugubre gondola I (aching intervals, black); R. W. - Venezia (even blacker) gve much food for thought. The Sonata itself took on a meaning far removed from any barnstorming virtuosity. Pollini steadfastly refused to relax in any way shape or form, so the long lyric sections were less contrastive, more prolongational than they are usualy assumed to be. Pollini showed no fear in the face of Liszt's Mephistophelian counterpoint, but far more impressive than any technical feat was his impeccable sense of logic. Superb. The ovation was rightly deserved.

He was in the mood for encores (can he play until his head falls off?!). A fast (and somewhat glossed over) ‚‘Submerged Cathedral‘ (Debussy) led to a steely-fingered Chopin Revolutionary Etude and a generous finale of the G minor Ballade (a Pollini favourite, and I believe the third time I have heard it as an encore!). Magnificent.

 

Colin Clarke