Charles Valentin Alkan was a French composer and virtuoso pianist who
lived and worked alongside Chopin and Liszt. He is said to have supported
his compositional life by the patronage of Russian aristocratic ladies who,
as Isidore Philipp describes, were ‘des dames très parfumées et
froufroutantes’. Alluding to his solitary character and enigmatic style,
Liszt is reported to have commented to the Danish pianist Fritz Hartvigson
that ‘Alkan possessed the finest technique he had ever known, but preferred
the life of a recluse.’ Being such an intriguingly mysterious character,
Alkan is described in contrasting lights. For instance, Jack Gibbons
describes Alkan as an ‘intelligent, lively, humorous and warm person — all
characteristics which feature strongly in his music — whose only crime seems
to have been having a vivid imagination, and whose occasional eccentricities
[…] stemmed mainly from his hypersensitive nature.’ On the other
hand, Hugh Macdonald suggests that ‘Alkan was a man of profoundly
conservative ideas, whose lifestyle, manner of dress, and belief in the
traditions of historic music, set him apart from other musicians and the
world at large.’ Thus, interpreting both the man and the music is a
convoluted task which requires consideration of both the influences and
instinctual characteristics to be found in his
12 Etudes dans tous les
tons mineurs Op. 39.
Likeness to Berlioz is often cited; Hans von Bülow called him ‘the Berlioz
of the piano’, while Schumann, in criticising the Op.
15
Romances, claimed that Alkan merely ‘imitated Berlioz on
the piano’. Alkan himself said, in no uncertain terms, that Wagner ‘is not a
musician, he is a disease’. Like Chopin, Alkan’s musical compositions are
centred almost exclusively on the piano; however, unlike Chopin and Liszt,
Alkan was not entirely concerned with developing harmonic idiom. More
telling of Alkan’s style and ambition perhaps are his admirers. Rubinstein,
Franck and Busoni appreciated Alkan for the gargantuan range of expression
he demanded through his compositions and as a performer of technical
prowess.
Alkan’s
Concerto pour piano seul, in G sharp minor (Op. 39 nos. 8, 9,
10) is an immense work. It consists of 120 pages and takes over 50
minutes to perform. To get a sense of scale, the first movement alone has
more bars than the entire
Hammerklavier Sonata by Beethoven. A
piece of layered textures and harmonies, which conjure the sound of an
entire orchestra, this work is challenging both physically and mentally for
any performer. However, the brilliant Vincenzo Maltempo tackles this taxing
work with elegance, charm and vigour. Maltempo takes on this piece with
improvisational spontaneity and emotive sincerity - one could say the
cornerstones of Alkan’s style. With a host of technical difficulties amidst
a subtly interrelated phrasing, only a performer with equal quantities of
grit, dare and talent can perform such a work. This contains arpeggios,
octave runs, scales, leaps, grace notes, alternating hands, swiftly changing
block chord motifs, tremolos and 4-5 trills with the melody played on the
same hand. Undeniably this is a piece that excites the listener. With all of
this showiness, it is easy to imagine oneself feeling somewhat emotively
distanced, however, Maltempo’s rendition is just as tender as it is
tumultuous. Both the thought-provoking
Adagio and glittering (even
oriental sounding)
Allegretto alla barabaresca are magisterially
played.
The remaining three pieces are comparatively lighter and much shorter
works.
Comme le vent (No. 1) is a bravura study which is here
performed with dumbfounding alacrity.
En rythme molossique (
No.
2) consists of a carefully crafted interplay of forms which diverge
from melodic outpours to extraordinary percussive hammerings. Maltempo is
forceful but not stubborn, managing to uphold both the structure and
imagination of the piece. Finishing with Alkan’s
Scherzo diabolico
(
No. 3), Maltempo is put to the test with Alkan’s frequent use of
leaps, noticeably the ‘Neapolitan sixth’. With a central section of mighty
chords, the fullness of sound created by Maltempo who plays with conviction
and magnanimity is enthralling and here excellently captured. Returning to
the first section, but playing pianissimo, the listener encounters Alkan’s
shocking doublings. These make for a stirring and excitingly shifting
experience. Suggestive of Alkan’s unpredictable personality, Maltempo
grapples with the work’s changeable nature and complexity. In short, these
pieces are brilliantly executed, devoid of crass showmanship, but replete
with virtuosic display. Alkan’s music is fraught and oftentimes riven with
battling emotions.
Lucy Jeffery
Previous review:
Jonathan Woolf
