Rem Urasin is the Russian
pianist, born in 1974, who took Second
Prize in the 2004 Sydney International
Piano Competition. How does the runner-up
come to be graced with recorded documentation?
He also took the People's Choice Prize,
Best Performance of an Australian work,
and several other awards in that same
contest, as well as being voted ABC
Classic FM Listeners' Favorite - so
Australian Broadcasting can, probably
correctly, assume interest in this issue
at home. But how will it stack up for
the rest of us?
The concerto - presumably
the pianist's major competition piece
- begins unpromisingly. The piano's
big block chords are stolid and earthbound,
seemingly unaware of the broad, lush
orchestral melody, for which, as it
turns out, the Sydney Symphony strings
can't muster sufficient tonal body anyway.
Matters improve markedly, however, once
past the introduction. Urasin's firm
tone and technical dexterity permit
him actually to color and layer the
piano textures. The rapid passagework
sometimes feels held back, not out of
any technical insecurity, but because
Urasin insists on giving every note
full tonal weight; the overall effect
remains that of assurance and command.
The Andante sings simply and without
affectation, with a gossamer central
scherzando. A swift, powerful
finale caps things nicely, with the
dazzling final octave run provoking
a deserved ovation.
Why Nutcracker
for piano? Perhaps because Tchaikovsky
offers recitalists an unappealing choice
between the stiffly wrought, knucklebreaking
G major Sonata on the one hand and a
miscellany of characteristic and children's
pieces on the other (although, truth
be told, some of the pieces in the Months
cycle require considerable skill). Pletnev's
selection of seven movements from the
complete ballet (not equivalent
to the familiar suite, Op. 48a) presumably
intends to remedy this situation, though
I find it only patchily successful.
The brief characteristic dances - the
March, Dance of the Sugar-Plum
Fairy, Tarantella, Trepak,
and Tea - all come off rather
well: Urasin projects them with rhythmic
clarity, impeccable balance and stunning
articulation. But the two big set pieces
are not well chosen: the Act I Intermezzo,
fourth in performance order, never rises
to the full-throated grandeur of the
orchestral original, while, without
the resonance of massed ’cellos, the
melody of the suite's finale, the great
Act II pas de deux, sounds oddly
threadbare. Perhaps Pletnev's own playing
of these pieces, which I haven't heard,
better fills out these textures.
Consider this a document
of the pianist, and a promissory note
on better things to come, but hardly
a basic library acquisition in a crowded
catalogue.
Stephen Francis
Vasta