SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms: Murray Perahia (piano). Barbican Hall, , 5.2. 2009 (CC)


My most recent encounter with Murray Perahia before this solo recital was a concerto appearance at last year’s Proms, where he played the Mozart 25th with exemplary style. His renaissance after his hand injury is justly famous, and what a privilege it was to hear him in front of a full and appreciative London audience. Last year (almost exactly, February 12^th, 2008) – Perahia cancelled a concert here at the Barbican because of continuing concerns with is hand, so it was good to see and hear him in fine fettle.

The featured works came from the core repertoire (core in the general sense, but also the core of Perahia’s own repertory). He began with Bach, a composer long close to his heart, and the composer who allegedly brought him solace during his enforced time out from piano-playing. John Quinn rightly praised Perahia’s disc of Partitas Nos. 2-4 on this site; the First Partita (B flat, BWV825) was no less impressive. I am used to Lipatti’s famous account from Besançon, so Perahia’s opening came as a surprise in its forthright demeanour. Was Perahia, King of the Subtle, over-projecting?. Certainly intimacy was not part of his agenda here, as he saw the Praeludium as more of a bold statement of intent; the beautifully even flow of the Allemande served to reassure us that all was well, as did the gorgeous staccato touch of the Corrente. The Gigue, in a sense balancing the Praeludium, was surprisingly subdued (although one spent a goodly part of the performance amazed at the evenness of Perahia’ accompanying left hand). This was memorable, if not great, playing.

Perahia has long been associated with Mozart, of course, and his complete cycle is the source of great joy (albeit a joy tempered by the feeling that everything is just that little bit over-rehearsed).  Certainly this sonata, The F-major, K332 of 1783, was given a fabulously polished account. The imitation of woodwind and horns in the first movement was clear, the overall feeling of that movement decidedly celebrational. The concentration of the central Andante con moto was spell-binding, while the finale contained dazzling passagework, almost virtuoso in places.

Concluding the 65-minute first half was the “Appassionata”. Here, Perahia took risks. The opening was darkly shaded, setting the tone for a reading that was decidedly anti-virtuoso, and which therefore took away some of the fuoco from this movement. A strangely objective slow movement, organ-like to begin with (again, bolder than expected) and deliberately lacking the magic that Pollini regularly finds at its close, led to a finale that was carefully moulded and technically tremendous in terms of clarity. Only the coda could really be described as exciting, though.

It was the second part of the concert that really re-established Perahia as a major pianistic force. The Brahms Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Handel, Op. 24 is a magnificent piece (and should be heard on a more regular basis on recital programmes). In its 25 variations and imposing fugue, it contains a whole world of variety, whilst generally keeping to the simple structural nature of the theme (taken from Handel’s First Keyboard Suite, HWV434). Perahia’s splendid finger clarity and exemplary articulation for the theme were a joy – remember Perahia has recorded Handel successfully, as well as Bach. The sudden explosion into joy at the Più vivo was a masterstroke, as it dragged Handel right into Brahms’ side of the court. Perahia seemed set to reveal all of the huge contrasts inherent in this score, from its manifestations of supreme beauty through a solidly determined Risoluto (Variation 4), a veiled canon (Misterioso, Variation 6), a grand Largamente (Variation 13) and a fiery sciolto (Variation 14: “sciolto” means free and unrestrained). The grand design of the final fugue was magnificent, intelligently shaped and beautifully toned. I can pay Perahia no greater compliment than to say that his was an account that lost little in comparison with my preferred recorded pianist in this work, Van Cliburn (the DVD of Cliburn’s performance in Moscow in 1972 on VAI 4455 is well worth searching out. There is also a Cliburn RCA Gold Seal sonic-only version, but that appears to be out of the UK catalogue right now – it remains available in the USA).

Two Schubert encores rounded the evening off, and although merited it would have been more apt, I believe, to leave the grandeur of the Brahms ringing firmly in our ears.

Colin Clarke


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