Alexander Malofeev is the latest Russian superstar pianist taking the piano world by storm. With his newly released album Forgotten Melodies, and a packed concert tour mixing recitals with numerous concerto performances, life appears to be rosy for this Berlin-based 24-year-old. His concert in the Concertgebouw, part of its Great Pianists series, was an intimate affair in a programme that promised both fragility and muscular dynamism.
Famed for his raw power, Malofeev’s choice of repertoire almost felt as if he had a point to prove. For the first half, and much of the second, he modestly opened a door to a rich, colourful landscape. In Schubert’s three Klavierstücke, D.946, the naïve simplicity of the melodic writing found a quiet calm. Malofeev’s quivering, shimmering runs and ominous ascending left hand melodies all gave voice to Schubert’s harmonic ambivalence as the first theme’s relentless churning returned. He seemed to channel András Schiff’s famed theory that the “left hand should keep time, while the right hand is free […like] a tree whose trunk is firm while its leaves move with the wind.” This was a metaphor Malofeev took quite literally in Sibelius’ Five Pieces, subtitled The Trees, where each movement embodies various trees: a rowan, a lonely pine, an aspen, birch and spruce, all gently swaying in the Finnish breeze. Malofeev’s lyrical right hand found freedom to leave single notes simply hanging in the wind while the pedal conjured striking impressionist overtones, leaving the audience waiting with bated breath.
Colour continued as the overriding theme in Grieg’s Holberg Suite – a collection of Baroque dances directly referring to Ludvig Holberg, a prominent 18th-century Norwegian philosopher, the work’s inspiration. Hearing the original piano version and not that more commonly heard for string orchestra, was enlightening. Malofeev’s Prelude, full of cascading scales, glittering trills and bell-like chimes, evoked Baroque luminosity, before touching tenderness and fluttering ornaments illuminated the Sarabande’s genteel second beat accents. After the Gavotte’s radiant inner pedal notes, the Aria’s restraint returned us to Schubert’s naïve innocence, Malofeev now a lone dancer from a Tchaikovsky ballet, suppressed by an omnipresent ruler while shouldering the sins of the world. Each iteration of the theme more ravishing than the one before. Sitting low on the piano stool and with his head gently bobbing, this was divine music to listen to on repeat.
Only after the interval – and after meandering through Sibelius, Scriabin and Lourié without a break – did the young Russian fully open the throttle. The thundering start to Rachmaninov’s Piano Sonata no. 2 in B flat minor left none in doubt as to his final port of call. Yet again though, Malofeev welcomed a deeply attractive intimacy. Melodies emerged from behind shuttered screens before church bells pealed forth, heralding Rachmaninov’s luxurious climax. Did the slow movement pull the heartstrings and stir a well? Not quite, but power and might were not tonight’s forte. Rapturous applause and three encores later, this lone figure on the huge, dark Concertgebouw stage conjured a world full of sophistication and colourful nuance. And for that he has my vote.
