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Fazioli International Piano Recital Series

2013

Auckland Museum is proud to present our sixth series of Fazioli piano recitals

The Fazioli Piano In 1978 in the town of Sacile near Venice, not far from Padua, the birthplace of the first piano 300 years earlier, a new piano was born. Today the handmade concert pianos of Fazioli have attracted admiration and high praise from pianists from all around the world and from all walks of life. From jazz greats such as Herbie Hancock, to some of the world’s top classical artists like Angela Hewitt, Stephen Hough, Louis Lortie and Nikolai Demidenko, the Fazioli is considered by these masters as one of the finest concert instruments in the world. The quality of the Fazioli is now legendary. Only around 80 of these superb pianos are carefully handmade each year. Each is born with its own character the result of excellent materials and superb construction.

The heart of the piano lies in its soundboard – the flat table of wood that lies beneath the strings. For this, red spruce is used. Fazioli likes to choose the trees himself. They are chosen from the famous Val di Fiemme forest and are 150-year old trees descended from the ones Stradivarius used for his violins. Like Stradivarius however, only 1 in 200 of these trees will have the natural resonance that Fazioli is looking for. It will then take two years for that tree to become a Fazioli piano – a rare and special work of art. Today, Fazioli pianos are found in leading concert halls, conservatoriums, recording studios and, for a lucky few, private homes.

Kia ora and welcome to the 2013 Fazioli International Piano Recital Series. I am delighted to be able to once again introduce four of the world’s finest piano recitalists. Bringing musicians of such great calibre to Auckland is a real pleasure and our annual Fazioli piano series has become a much loved part of the cultural life of our city. I would also like to thank and acknowledge the foundational support of Warren Sly of Sly’s Pianos, the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra, Auckland Museum staff and especially Glenn Easley for his coordination of the series. Through Future Museum, Auckland War Memorial Museum - Tamaki Paenga Hira - is committed to playing a leading role in the cultural and creative life of the city; helping to shape it, build up communities and connects cultures. We invite you to share in our vision for Future Museum by visiting our website. Enjoy the concerts and thank you for your support. Roy Clare, CBE Director Auckland War Memorial Museum

A very warm welcome to the 2013 Fazioli International Piano Recital Series! It’s hard to believe that we are now in our 6th season of these recitals at the Museum, and it seems we have established a valued musical asset which has become an integral part of Auckland’s classical music scene. We are delighted to once again be able to work closely with the APO in bringing Auckland a wealth of pianistic talent. For visiting pianists to have the opportunity to perform in recital as well as concerto is a huge bonus for Auckland’s music lovers, and we thank the APO for their partnership, without which our series could not happen. Compiling the Fazioli Series is a great privilege, and whether inviting pianists who are ‘new’ to us, or inviting (or re-inviting) old friends to play on our magnificent Fazioli in this beautiful venue is an honour. As always I would like to extend my thanks to others whose involvement is invaluable in compiling the Series, in particular Bryan Sayer, Heath Lees and Dina Jezdic at the Museum. I hope you enjoy the concerts and look forward to seeing you. Glenn Easley Series Director

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Oleg Marshev

Nikolai Ingrid Demidenko Fliter August 3

September 7

Steven Osborne

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November 15

Appearing in 1913, Debussy’s second book of preludes contains many that are suggestions of distantlyglimpsed “impressions”. The opening Brouillards evokes the mists of Autumn, as does the succeeding Feuilles Mortes (Dead Leaves). La Puerta del Vino is a sun-filled postcard in sound from Spain, and was inspired by an actual postcard, while Les Fées Sont d’Exquises Danseuses (no.4) demands pianism that is virtuosic yet gossamer-light.  Three character sketches appear in this book: Général Lavine - excentrique (no.6) is a humorously spiky specimen, but with a sentimental soft centre. Heavyhanded bass octaves of “God Save the Queen” open onto the gruff English humour of Hommage à S.Pickwick Esq.,P.P.M.P.C (no.9), and the third character — legendary this time — appears through the wavelike figurations of Ondine (no.8). 

April 13

Preludes 5 (Bruyères), 7 (La Terrasse des Audiences du Clair de Lune) and 10 (Canope) each show in their different ways that captivating, luminous quality of imaginative reverie that Debussy captures so well through the keyboard. Les Tierces Alternées (no.11) on the other hand seems like an odd-man-out — more of a study than a prelude — but Feux d’Artifice with its dazzling bursts and festive gaiety makes for a brilliant finish.

Préludes, Book 2

Interval

Oleg Marshev Debussy (1862-1918)

Debussy’s impatience with the stereotyped art-labels of his time is well known. “What I am writing is very different from what fools will call Impressionism” he snorted as his orchestral Images neared publication.  History enjoys its ironies though, and the world now defines musical Impressionism through Debussy’s works just as confidently as it takes Monet’s canvases to be the embodiment of Impressionism in painting.  Debussy’s Impressionism, however, had its roots firmly planted in literature. A regular attender at the famous Tuesday evening gatherings of the symbolist poet Mallarmé, he would certainly have subscribed to his host’s famous poetic dictum of the 1860s — “peindre non la chose, mais l’effet qu’elle produit” — suggesting a thing’s effect rather than describing it objectively. Debussy’s Préludes embody Mallarmé’s principle to the letter, and their titles, placed not at the beginning of each prelude but at the end, are essentially descriptions of the effect of the prelude’s music.

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Pictures at an Exhibition Mussorgsky (1839-1881)

In 1862, the Russian composer Mussorgsky first met the brilliant Victor Hartmann — artist, architect, book illustrator, theatre designer... and more. Alas, in 1873 Hartmann was struck down by an aneurysm at the age of 39, and his death threw Mussorgsky into a deep depression, since the two had become great friends, and were firmly united in their pursuit of a genuinely Russian art, free from Western European influences.   In St. Petersburg the following year, an exhibition was mounted of more than 400 of Hartmann’s works, and this moved Mussorgsky to create a musical monument to his friend: a suite of pieces for piano, entitled Pictures at an Exhibition.  

transcription, the original piano work at last bounced boldly into the public domain and quickly became a firm favourite with pianists and audiences alike. A recurring “Promenade” theme opens the work and depicts a visitor walking leisurely round the exhibition, stopping every so often before one of Hartmann’s works. The musical course of the visit is as follows:-   Promenade    Gnomus — Hartmann’s drawing of a leering, gnomelike nutcracker.   Promenade   The Old Castle — A medieval castle, with a doleful, folk-like melody over a drone bass. Promenade   Tuileries — Here, children are playing in the parklike gardens of the Tuileries, captured in light and effervescent music.    Bydlo — The opening music intones a slow-moving melody as the ox-cart lumbers past, making an increasingly loud racket, then moving away into the distance.    Promenade   Ballet of the chicks in their shells — Hartmann’s sketch here was for costumes of a ballet-scene where children pretended to break out of shells, like fledgling birds.   Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle — The rich Goldenberg is confidently portrayed in unison phrases, while his poor, complaining friend Schmuyle is given unflatteringly nasal interruptions. The market-place at Limoges — One of a number of Hartmann’s humorously observant sketches of people’s erratic behaviour at the Limoges market.    Catacombs — An eerie vista of the stacks of skulls in the catacombs of Paris, portrayed by low, fearful chords.    Cum mortuis in lingua mortua (“With the dead, in the language of the dead”); a pause for reflection here on the sombre scene of Catacombs.    The hut on fowl’s legs (Baba Yaga ) — Baba Yaga is a witch who lives deep in the forest in a hut perched on chicken-like legs and surrounded by bone-fences topped with skulls.    The great gate of Kiev — This impressive evocation of grandeur grows out of the previous picture, without a formal break. Hartmann’s design for the proposed gate at Kiev was never executed, but its overpowering nobility is wonderfully framed in Mussorgsky’s majestic hymn.

Oleg Marshev Oleg Marshev was born in Baku, in the former USSR, and trained with Valentina Aristova at the Gnesin School for Highly Gifted Children and with Mikhail Voskresensky at the Moscow Conservatory where he completed his Performance Doctorate in 1988 gaining the Diploma with Honour. Resident in Italy since 1991, Marshev has received awards in several international piano competitions in Canada, Italy, Portugal, Spain, USA, including four first prizes. The illustrious competition victories have confirmed the artist’s reputation as one of the most talented Russian pianists of his generation. The Gramophone magazine reviewed Marshev’s recording of Prokofiev as “one of the most authoritative and impassioned performances on disc so far”. Marshev made his New York debut in 1991 with a highly acclaimed recital at the Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall. The following year he made his first appearance at the Amsterdam Concertgebouw. Since then he has performed throughout the world from Canada to New Zealand, performing with such orchestras as London Philharmonic and appearing at important venues and festivals including Wigmore-Hall of London, “A.B. Michelangeli Festival” of Brescia-Bergamo, Italy, Ruhr Klavier Festival, Germany, Festival at Roque d’Antheron in France. Oleg Marshev’s first recording project was the complete original works for solo piano by Prokofiev (5 CDs) for Danacord Records. He has since recorded over 35 CDs for the same label, featuring works by Schubert, Brahms, Strauss, Rubinstein, Rachmaninov and others. He has made the world premier recording of Emil von Sauer’s complete piano music in 6 volumes. Marshev is a direct representative of the fifth generation of Russian pianism since Liszt, through Alexander Siloti, Konstantin Igumnov and Voskresensky’s teacher, Lev Oborin. Alongside his concert engagements, Marshev gives masterclasses in many different countries and is a Professor at the Anton Bruckner University in Linz, Austria.

For years the work remained relatively unknown until Russian conductor Sergei Koussevitsky commissioned an orchestral version from the French composer Ravel. Following the success of this stunning orchestral

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II. Allegro Dramatic contrast comes in this second piece — in G minor — through the alternation of its energetic semiquaver opening with a more relaxed melody in the relative major key. III. Andante, Cantabile e grazioso Here Beethoven turns to E-flat major and resumes his opening, easy, singing style, now blessed with a hymn-like dignity, and flowering out into smoothly decorated passages that end in a breathless hush. IV. Presto This is probably the most dramatic of the Bagatelles: a thrusting B minor theme that tries in vain to develop a fugal character. Instead, it is deflected into a B major movement with little, three-note fragments over a drone bass. At the end the piece just seems to evaporate. V. Quasi allegretto Beethoven moves back to his opening key of G major for this, the gentlest piece of the set, in flowing thirds against a rocking quaver accompaniment.

Nikolai Demidenko August 3

Six Bagatelles, Op.126 Beethoven (1770-1827)

Beethoven’s three sets of “Bagatelles” have always had to fight against their title, which has nowadays come to mean “a thing of no importance”. Nothing could be further from the truth about these Op.126 pieces, which date from 1824, were the fruit of much labour on Beethoven’s part, and represent his last published works for piano. A note in one of Beethoven’s original sketches describes these Bagatelles as “a cycle of small pieces” (Ciclus von Kleinigkeiten). It seems therefore that the composer regarded the six pieces — each of them about 3-4 minutes long— as more of a unity than as a collection of individual works, perhaps on the model of a song cycle. I. Andante con moto, Cantabile compiacevole The first of the set, in G major, glides along in an “easy singing style”. After a short cadenza mid-way through, the opening theme reappears, chorale-like, in left-hand octaves, before the music drifts upwards to its close.


VI. Presto, Andante amabile e con moto Despite the tempestuous rush at the start, the amabile direction soon takes over. There are constant changes in texture and mood, short theme-fragments, subtle syncopations, and an overall, expansive atmosphere that breathes with every note the angelic air of Beethoven’s late piano style.

Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op.42 Rachmaninov (1873-1943) Don’t be fooled. This is not a theme, nor is it by Corelli. It’s actually an ancient Iberian scrap of music called “La Folia”. True, Corelli made one of the most famous uses of it in a violin sonata but it’s more of a chord structure than a theme, and it functions a bit like a twelve-bar blues with its continuous repetition and near-absence of “tune”. This was the last solo piano piece that Rachmaninov composed, though he completed it in 1931 (in three weeks!) and lived for a further twelve years. The set of twenty variations retains the D minor key that Corelli had used, and the style bears all the elegance of the Italian composer, but is combined with Rachmaninov’s warmth and virtuosic approach. That said however, his piano writing is of special

interest, since he forsook his normally full chords and entwining accompaniments, to embrace a leaner kind of writing — what one critic referred to as “his own personal neo-classicism”. Despite this, one variation — number 14 — sinks divinely down to D-flat, and fondly recalls the lush Rachmaninov texture that had become so well known by the 1930s. Interval

Sonata in A major, D.664 Schubert (1797-1828)

1 Allegro moderato 2 Andante 3 Allegro It’s an inspired touch of programme-building that sees Schubert’s A-major sonata (D.664) followed by his A-minor sonata (D.784). Each work returns to the three-movement form that Schubert had left behind in his apprentice years, but adopts the clear horizon of: First Movement — Slow Movement — Finale. Time-wise, the sonatas are relatively close, with the A-major sonata being dated to the summer of 1819, while the A-minor sonata was the next in succession, and completed in 1823. The major point of difference between the two works has to do with mood and style, since the A-major work is happy, wide-eyed and obviously youthful, while the A-minor sonata has a sober, dark intensity, and heralds many of the stylistic concerns and subtleties that distinguish the so-called mature sonatas. (How strange it is to call Schubert’s works “mature” when he actually died before his prime!) Taking a leaf out of Milton’s poetry book, we might consider the A-major work as Schubert’s L’Allegro, and the A-minor one as his Il Penseroso. Certainly, there is nothing more idyllic nor more instantly attractive than the opening, song-like theme of the first movement; once heard, never forgotten.

Sonata in A minor, D.784 Schubert

1 Allegro giusto 2 Andante 3 Allegro vivace Right from the opening heavy tread and dark registers, this sonata shows its bleak, force-of-destiny mood. It was composed in 1823, following Schubert’s first period in hospital and his realisation that illness would henceforward dog his life (and, as it happened, terminate it prematurely). Nothing about the sonata’s first movement suggests real hope; even the chordal second subject in the dominant major key brings not peace but a sense of inevitability. When it returns later in a four-note version, it reminds us of Beethoven’s famous “Fate knocking at the door” theme. A ray of light appears in the unexpected key of F major for the middle-movement Andante, but not for long. The music generates wide and complex changes into its dramatic structure, though the single elements all seem simple at first. They consist of a haunting, arpeggio-like opening, a menacing ppp turning figure, and Schubert’s much-loved triplets. Anger and regret provide the opposite poles for the finale, subtly balanced between compound and simple time through a mixture of driving triplets with a waltz-like middle theme. The turbulent octave passages here seem like a carry-over from the “Wanderer” fantasy, written three months earlier, but the furious, fist-shaking chords at the end (again a veiled version of Beethoven’s “Fate” theme) leave us in no doubt that anger has won the day.

A similar memorability haunts the dreamy second movement, thanks to Schubert’s hypnotic ‘signature’ rhythm of one long and four shorts. Shrugging off any suggestion of wistfulness, the Finale trips in on dancing semiquavers and its increasingly boisterous sonata-form course drops to pianissimo at the end, before two flamboyant cadence chords ring down the curtain.


Nikolai Demidenko

Blessed with a long life, he was able to assimilate and later even dictate the styles of the day. His early period perfectly captured the soigné posturing of stile galant while his middle sonatas moved easily into the more personal sensitivity of Empfindsamkeit, and the later ones fostered a passionate variety of mood to provide ample harbour for the contemporary current of Sturm und Drang (storm and stress).

Nikolai Demidenko is a celebrated piano virtuoso, considered a leading exponent of the Russian school of playing. His passionate pianism makes him in demand across the world and his blend of technical brilliance and musical vision has earned him consistent rave reviews since he first emerged on the international scene in the mid-1980s.

Written in 1784, this E-minor sonata is more in the Sturm and Drang mould. Full of dramatic verve, it has an opening brusqueness that seems almost terse and irritable. It comes as a relief to make the change into the somewhat free-flowing character of the following Adagio, which begins with deceptive simplicity but grows into luxurious flower, before a catchy but driving Rondo based on two themes brings us all safely back home.

Demidenko began playing before the age of five, learning on his grandfather’s old piano. By six, he was a student of Anna Kantor (Evgeny Kissin’s teacher) at the Gnessin School of Music. An obstinate student who disliked scales and technique, Demidenko still made swift progress, and eventually entered the Moscow Conservatory. There, he studied with Dmitri Bashkirov, whom Demidenko credits with fostering his more individual qualities as a player, as well as ironing out the remaining wrinkles in his technique. He reached the finals of both the 1976 Montreal competition and the 1978 Tchaikovsky competition in Moscow (where he played through an acute case of the flu). These served as a final springboard to professional recognition. A 1985 tour with the Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra introduced Demidenko to the West, and in particular Great Britain, where he would become a resident in 1990. He has built an international career of the highest calibre, playing concertos with many of Europe’s greatest orchestras and conductors, and playing a landmark series of recitals in London’s Wigmore Hall. His recordings of Medtner, Mussorgsky, and Busoni have been particularly well-received, and he has established himself as a leading interpreter of Liszt and Chopin. Demidenko has also ventured into earlier composers, such as Bach, Mozart, and Scarlatti, playing with a degree of rhythmic freedom (rubato) that cuts against the grain of studied performance practice; Demidenko feels that it is an essential ingredient of their music.

Sonata in A Major, D.959

Schubert (1797-1828)

1 Allegro 2 Andantino 3 Scherzo - Allegro vivace 4 Rondo – Allegretto

Ingrid Fliter September 7

Sonata in E Minor Hob. XVI/34 Haydn (1732-1809)

1 Presto 2 Adagio 3 Finale: Molto vivace It’s a shame that Haydn’s sonatas are little heard these days. The big problem seems to be that he was neither Mozart nor Beethoven. Yet without Haydn it is anyone’s guess what the sonatas of these two later composers would have been like. People are sometimes surprised to discover that Haydn composed more than sixty solo sonatas, though some are lost. They were written regularly over a forty-year period, the first appearing in the early 1750s in Vienna, and the last during the ‘London’ years of 1791-1795. In Haydn’s hands, the piano sonata grew into the well-proportioned, three or four movement form that would hold sway for nearly a hundred years. Thanks to his overflowing imagination and compositional flair, he made the form accommodate every style and character, from the playful and humorous to the dramatic and intense.



By the summer of 1828, Schubert was at work on a group of three piano sonatas that were intended for a larger, more public setting than his usual Viennese circle of friends and supporters. Beethoven’s death more than a year earlier had given him the confidence to come out from his idol’s shadow, and these three sonatas (completed just a month before Schubert’s own death) show a more personal vision, a greater willingness to experiment with sonata form, and a more creative approach to themes and their connections. Tonight’s A major sonata is the second of these three works, and its opening angry, fist-shaking gesture (so different from the later, hymn-like second theme) immediately suggests Beethoven, but Schubert quickly opens the material out through unexpected keys, and mixes in his own favourite, running-triplet rhythms. Moments before the Development section starts, a downward semiquaver scrap is slipped in almost unnoticed, but becomes a fundamental element in what follows. As the Recapitulation approaches, a sizzling hail of downward-leaping octaves lands back on the opening fist-shaking gesture once again, but by the end of the movement, the anger suddenly melts away, and the music ends awkwardly, on a strange and inconclusive cadence.

It soon becomes clear that the puzzling end to the sonata’s first movement is but a preparation for the heart-rending confession that makes up the Andantino of the second movement, which Schubert unusually directs as “with the most intimate feeling”. The downward octave, already so much a trademark of the music’s ‘dying fall’, repeatedly dogs the accompaniment figure, and the opening tranquility gradually becomes an illusion as a doom-laden ‘Winter Journey’ takes over. Sheer madness breaks out in the middle section, blowing the Andantino to smithereens with its increasingly fast note-values and tortured harmony (Schubert was by this time battling against constant pain and alarming effusions of blood). Partially restored, the opening music returns, but disappears into silence at the end — despite its triple time framework, the movement has finally revealed itself as a funeral march. Sunshine breaks through, if only fleetingly, with a third-movement Scherzo that cavorts up and down from the very top of Schubert’s piano range to the very bottom, eventually bouncing off the stage to leave the field clear for the following Rondo — a finale that breathes the spirit of Beethoven in every bar. At the end though, in a touch that is all his own, Schubert brings back the first movement’s opening fist-shaking gesture, complete with its trademark octave ‘dive’ in the left hand, but now forming a grandiose summingup and a powerful final flourish. Interval

Préludes, Op.28 Chopin (1810-1849)

In 1839, when this set of 24 Préludes first came out, many listeners would have grasped the connection with J. S. Bach’s two sets of 24 Preludes and Fugues - music which Chopin himself loved and revered. Links to Bach’s monumental sets are easy to find, the most obvious being that Chopin followed the Baroque composer’s practice of progressing systematically through the major and minor keys of all twelve notes within the octave. But while Bach joins his pieces into a pair by bracketing together the major and minor version of the same note, Chopin twins every major-key prelude with its relative minor (i.e., the minor key sharing the same key signature of sharps or flats).   

These Préludes are unique. Their huge expressive range is unparalleled, as is their wealth of texture and colour, sometimes brilliantly refined into pieces of only 30-something seconds in duration. The longer pieces, such as the “Raindrop” prelude (No.20, the longest, at 6 minutes) give the impression of a fully-formed structure with a clear beginning middle and end, while No. 7 is a tiny, two-bar waltz theme with four varied statements. Little more than a nostalgic memory, it vanishes in less than a minute.    Some preludes are relatively easy to master, and are regularly ground out by every amateur pianist. Some are so difficult that they are playable only by professionals — and highly expert ones at that. The emotional and textural contrasts from one piece to the next are sometimes breathtaking yet Chopin often uses little details that bridge the gap, such as the last note of one being very prominent in the start of the next. Listen, for example, to the final right-hand note of the very first Prélude, and then see how, after a few bars of left-hand introduction, the same note begins the righthand melody of No. 2.   A really special aspect of the Préludes is in the multicoloured effects that follow closely upon each other as you listen through the whole set, from start to finish. You might compare the experience with the changing reveries and impressions that rise up while you leaf through a book of glossy photographs of paintings. Every page, every couple of minutes, one is grasped by a new scene with overall effects and arresting details, and gradually, each sampled photograph seems to become a ‘prelude’ to the next.   Not that Chopin recommended such a ‘descriptive’ approach to his music. On the contrary, he actively discouraged it, and would have been furious at the habit of some, such as Hans von Bülow, who christened all the Préludes with chocolate-box titles, like “Thou Art So Like a Flower” (No.3), “Suffocation” (No.5), “Dragonfly” (No.11), or “The Storm” (the final prelude, No.28).    Yet the music is wonderfully varied and does seem to be directly expressive. Of what? Well, that may be different for each person. What is certain is that each Prélude is marvellously conceived for the piano, and yet each is different in its own right. In this set — the only complete set of pieces that Chopin grouped under one opus number — you become immersed in his pianistic world, and share, if only briefly, all his musical emotions.   In sum, the Préludes are not just unique to the music of Chopin; they are unique in the whole literature of piano music.  


Préludes, Op.28. Key Order and Approximate Durations   No. 1 in C major 0’45”  No. 2 in A minor 3’15”  No. 3 in G major 1’00”  No. 4 in E minor 2’10”  No. 5 in D major 0’35”  No. 6 in B minor 2’19”  No. 7 in A major 0’50”  No. 8 in F sharp minor 2’10”  No. 9 in E major 2’25”  No. 10 in C sharp minor 0’32”  No. 11 in B major 0’37”  No. 12 in G sharp minor 1’20”  No. 13 in F sharp major 3’37”  No. 14 in E flat minor 0’32”  No. 15 in D flat major 6’00”  No. 16 in B flat minor 1’05”  No. 17 in A flat major 3’21”  No. 18 in F minor 1’00”  No. 19 in E flat major 1’30”  No. 20 in C minor 2’50”  No. 21 in B flat major 2’05”  No. 22 in G minor 0’45”  No. 23 in F major 0’45”  No. 24 in D minor 2’45” 

Ingrid Fliter Ingrid Fliter’s playing has been described as showing “poetic lyricism and electrifying, nimble virtuosity” and “attaining an incredible iridescent energy”. In recital, Ingrid Fliter has established a reputation as one of the pre-eminent interpreters of Chopin. Her recording of the complete Chopin Waltzes elicited particular acclaim, receiving several five star reviews and was named the Telegraph’s CD of the week and Classic FM Magazine’s Editors Choice. Her most recent release on EMI of the Beethoven Sonatas was greeted with similar warmth by the press. Bryce Morrison of Gramophone Magazine wrote: “It is wonderful indeed to encounter a pianist of such exalted yet natural and unforced artistry.” Ingrid Fliter was winner of the Gilmore Artist Award in 2006, one of only a handful of pianists to have been awarded the honour. She divides her time between Europe and the US, where she works with orchestras such as the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Cleveland Orchestra, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Minnesota Orchestra, National Symphony Orchestra, San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, Seattle Symphony Orchestra, St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Toronto Symphony Orchestra. Her recent orchestral engagements in Europe include the Philharmonia Orchestra, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, Rotterdam Philharmonic, Bergen Philharmonic, Sydney Symphony, West Australian Symphony, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, Hungarian National Philharmonic and Royal Flemish Philharmonic Orchestra. She has performed in recital in many of the great halls across the world – the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam; Museé d’Orsay, Tokyo’s Suntory Hall, Cologne Philharmonie, Salzburg Festspielhaus, Conservatorio Giuseppe Verdi in Milan and at London’s Wigmore Hall and South Bank. In the USA she has appeared at Carnegie Hall, the Metropolitan Museum, in Fort Worth for the Van Cliburn Foundation and in Chicago, San Francisco, Vancouver, Montreal and Santa Barbara.


octave instrument. By the time of this sonata, Beethoven was using a deeply resonant, evenly balanced, six-and-a-half-octave instrument from the Viennese firm of Graf that was more than double the weight of the earlier pianos. It had a brighter singing tone for melodies and a more sustaining quality for chords. The wider extent at the edges of the keyboard made for greater scope and freedom in the top and bottom registers. Beethoven’s work exploits all these new technical possibilities, and more. Headed up with a dedication to his friend and patron Archduke Rudolph of Austria, the opening blaze of chords suggest the words “Vivat, vivat Rudolphus!” while the falling third at the phrase-end becomes the crucial, signature-interval for not just the first movement, but also for the whole work. Strangely, in a work that is one of Beethoven’s longest (about forty-five minutes), the Scherzo that does for a second movement is one of his shortest pieces. Nonetheless, the joke-like character (scherzo) is not lost, since it begins with friendly mockery of the Archduke’s chords.

Steven Osborne November 15

Sonata in B flat Major, Op.106 (“Hammerklavier”) Beethoven (1770-1827)

1 Allegro 2 Scherzo: Assai vivace 3 Adagio sostenuto, appassionato con molto sentimento 4 Introduzione — Largo— Fuga a tre voci It was Beethoven’s intention that his last five sonatas would all be sub-titled “for the Hammerklavier”. As it turned out, only two were published with this description: this evening’s one, Op.106, now universally known as “The Hammerklavier” and the sonata Op.101 in A major, nowadays never referred to as ‘Hammerklavier’. In truth, there is no actual instrument called a Hammerklavier. The word denotes any keyboard instrument with hammers. But since this Op.106 sonata has become almost the apotheosis of the piano sonata, the word, with all its massive, granite-like tone, has stuck to it for all time. In its ringing sound, the word ‘Hammerklavier’ also seems to suggest the power and resonance of the new, heavier pianos that superseded Mozart’s light, five-


What gives the work its ‘heavenly length’ is the Adagio of the third movement, itself longer than the duration of a whole sonata in Beethoven’s early days. Littered with instructions to ensure the greatest possible expressive voice, it follows the outlines of Sonata Form. But Beethoven adopts one of his favourite practices and makes his recapitulation into a second development section, creating textures for the piano that anticipate almost everything that later composers — Chopin, Schumann, even Liszt — were to build on. The final movement is prefaced with an “Introduzione” — an Impressionistic blend of chordal haze, allegro bursts, fanfare-like scraps, accelerating recitative, extended trills, eccentric harmonies... until finally a fugue subject arrives. This is based on decorated falling thirds and opens up a contrapuntal tour de force that builds unprecedented intensity through its course while following the most complicated fugal procedures and introducing the most resourceful episodes. Such a finale calls for titanic effort on the part of the performer, and a receptive concentration on the part of the audience. When these two qualities are united in the magic of performance, the result becomes a musical triumph. Interval

Sonata in B-flat Major, D.960

Steven Osborne

1 Molto moderato 2 Andante sostenuto 3 Scherzo: Allegro vivace con delicatezza 4 Allegro ma non troppo

“You could have heard a pin drop. Steven Osborne’s power over the hall was absolute... the atmosphere was spellbound. ” Daily Telegraph

Schubert (1797-1828)

This B-flat major sonata is the last of three piano sonatas that were to crown Schubert’s final months. The other two sonatas were in C minor (D.958) and A major (D.959), the latter being performed in the September concert of this series. Containing a number of similarities and interconnections, the three works are sometimes described as a trilogy. Nevertheless, the B-flat sonata has earned a special place for all Schubertians. Within its large, fortyminute span, it seems to embrace a whole world. The opening theme is one of the most haunting that Schubert ever conjured up, yet it astonishes by its sheer simplicity, its wonderful song-like quality, and its organically supportive left-hand accompaniment. If this were Mahler, we’d say that it was a ‘farewell to the world’ — beautiful yet resigned. Of course we should guard against reading too many ‘Intimations of Mortality’ into the works of Schubert’s last year, but there is no doubt that this sonata speaks in an unusually deep and poignant voice. Indeed, when the theme reaches its first moment of pause, the left hand interrupts with a mysterious trill and a long silence, as though wondering whether the music should in fact continue. This questioning, crossroads-moment recurs at intervals throughout the movement, nowhere more expressively than at the end of the Development section, just before the haunting main theme glides in again to begin the Recapitulation. It’s a challenge for performers and listeners, after such an emotionally demanding movement, to move into the Andante sostenuto of the next movement, which is every bit as soul-searching. A slow, twelve-bar theme is shadowed by a constantly repeated, four-note pattern in the left hand, and the melancholy key of C-sharp minor is only partially relieved by a central, A major move. Just before the end, the music melts into C-sharp major, as though to usher in a few moments of serenity before it’s too late. After the light relief of the third movement’s Scherzo, perfectly summed up in Schubert’s direction of con delicatezza, the finale appears, its cheerful face borne along by two dance-like themes, yet underneath the feigned good spirits there is a pervasive whiff of melancholy and interrupted promise that builds up during the performance, and lingers long after.

Steven Osborne is one of Britain’s foremost musicians, renowned for his idiomatic approach to a wide variety of repertoire from the mainstream classical works of Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms to the rarefied worlds of Messiaen, Tippett and Britten. He was born in Scotland in 1971 and studied with Richard Beauchamp at St. Mary’s Music School in Edinburgh and Renna Kellaway at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester. Osborne has won numerous awards and prizes including the 2009 Gramophone Award for his recording of Britten’s works for piano and orchestra, as well as first prize at both the Naumburg International Competition (New York) and Clara Haskil Competition. Concerto performances take Steven Osborne to orchestras all over the world including recent visits to the Yomiuri Nippon Symphony, Deutsches Sinfonieorchester Berlin, Vienna Symphony, Salzburg Mozarteum, Finnish Radio Symphony, Bergen Philharmonic, Danish National Radio, Royal Flemish Philharmonic, Sydney Symphony, Oregon Symphony and the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. He has enjoyed collaborations with conductors including Christoph von Dohnanyi, Alan Gilbert, Vladimir Ashkenazy, Ludovic Morlot, Leif Segerstam, Andrew Litton, Ingo Metzmacher, Vladimir Jurowski, Juanjo Mena and Jukka-Pekka Saraste. In the UK he works regularly with the major orchestras, especially with the London Philharmonic, City of Birmingham Symphony, Philharmonia and BBC Philharmonic Orchestras. His concerts are frequently broadcast by the BBC and he performs every year at the Wigmore Hall. He has made eleven appearances at the Proms, most recently in August 2012 when he performed the Grieg Piano Concerto with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra under John Storgårds. Osborne has won many awards for his recordings on Hyperion. In addition to the Gramophone Award in 2009 (Britten), his recording of Rachmaninov’s 24 Preludes was short-listed for a Gramophone Award and won a Schallplattenpreis.
