Mitsuko Uchida’s 
        sensitivity for, and her interpretative security 
        in the music of Mozart and Schubert, is a well-documented 
        phenomenon of contemporary music making. She 
        is less well known for her handling of Beethoven, 
        so the chance to hear her deliver the last three 
        sonatas in one parcel was not to be missed. 
        
        Clearly 
          many others thought so. A packed house can 
          inspire a performer, but it can also instil 
          fear if the venture is risky and that would 
          appear to have been the case here. The Sonata 
          in E, Op. 109, was given a performance that 
          by anyone else’s standards would have been 
          more than acceptable. Here its function was 
          that of a stepping-stone to greater things. 
          The very opening melted its way into existence, 
          exquisitely shaded, a cordial invitation for 
          the full hall to enter into Uchida’s intimate 
          circle. Uchida’s chording was a model of carefully 
          considered weighting, yet some stabbed-at 
          sforzati indicated all might not be 
          well. Nevertheless her sound was marvellously 
          full (one could see her using her full weight, 
          channelled through her arms).
        
        The 
          alternately determined/capricious Prestissimi 
          presented no obstacles technically; but the 
          ‘Gesangvoll’ finale began with the theme which, 
          though simply presented, could have been more 
          rapt. True, those foreground shadings so characteristic 
          of Uchida were there in all their beauty - 
          but where was the long-range thought? The 
          melody of the first variation was truly cantabile; 
          the fourth variation was a carefully controlled 
          textural crescendo. But the resolutely forged 
          fugal fifth created expectations for the sixth 
          that Uchida could not meet. Under Pollini’s 
          fingers (in the final concert of his complete 
          traversal in this hall some years back), one 
          felt the piano would explode as Beethoven’s 
          imagination threatened to transcend even the 
          limitations of a modern Steinway. With Uchida, 
          the audience was presented with an impressive 
          compendium of trills and scales. The final 
          return to the theme was impressive, however, 
          imbued with an Olympian calm – though the 
          applause came too soon. Perhaps this is a 
          ‘working’ interpretation, and when the final 
          recorded product emerges (she should be careful 
          not to put it down too soon), it will be of 
          the utmost integrity.
        
        Uchida 
          began her Op. 110 with a lighter tone than 
          might be expected (one is almost tempted to 
          call it ‘shallow’). Taken at a speed that 
          veered more towards Allegretto than Moderato, 
          there nevertheless emerged an unfolding of 
          Beethoven’s compositional mastery. Uchida 
          presented this excellently, resolutely not 
          getting in the way. Only a few ‘plonky’ left 
          hand attacks reminded us that this is not 
          a fully formed statement as yet. The concentrated, 
          grimly determined Scherzo contradicted Nick 
          Breckenfield’s programme note, which described 
          it as ‘Beethoven at his most genial and playful’. 
          Perhaps the highlight of this account was 
          the almost Webernian, quasi-isolated sound 
          events that surfaced enigmatically in the 
          third movement. As Uchida inched her way towards 
          great Beethoven playing, this became compulsive 
          listening. The fugue’s granitic statement 
          in the bass, the harmonically sensitive return 
          of the Arioso and the final fugue all conspired 
          to leave one breathless with anticipation 
          for Op. 111.
        
        Uchida 
          gave Beethoven’s final C minor Sonata an imposing 
          start, using very little pedal. Crescendi 
          were perfectly graded, the Allegro con brio 
          et appassionato finding Uchida using an appropriately 
          steely tone. One could only sit open-mouthed 
          at her finger strength. The final Arietta 
          did invoke deep peace. The variations’ 
          cumulative effect was visceral, the close 
          pure magic.
        Remember 
          the premature applause for Op. 109? Once again 
          the clapping started straight after the marvellously 
          interior final chord (was this clapping to 
          indicate, ‘Í know its finished now’, 
          or ‘Í want to be on the Radio’ - the 
          recital was recorded). Uchida remained perfectly 
          still; the applause faded out. Then, and only 
          then, did she let us show our appreciation 
          for her achievement.
        
        In anyone 
          else’s hands, one would have left more than 
          satisfied. It is the knowledge that Uchida 
          has further to travel in her explorations 
          of late Beethoven that is the inspiring thought 
          this reviewer took home with him - and that 
          it had been a privilege to share part of the 
          journey.
        Colin Clarke