In a concert teeming with superlatives, pianist Alice Sara Ott proved that even the most seasoned of artists still have the capacity to surprise. The first shock came before the concert had begun: a terse announcement that there would be no printed programme. Cue for rising anxiety on whether I would recognise all the pieces. The second surprise was the discalced soloist. I haven’t come across a barefoot musician before and I couldn’t help wondering if the pedals were rather cold and hard to the touch.
Perhaps most remarkable, however, was Ott’s direct engagement with the audience. Throughout the concert, she broke the traditional barrier between performer and listeners, offering fascinating insights and anecdotes between pieces. This was no mere lecture on music theory; rather, she was an engaging storyteller, drawing our attention to the hidden connections between composers. For instance, the celebrated opening of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata bears an uncanny resemblance to the dramatic moment in Mozart’s Don Giovanni when the eponymous hero slays the Commendatore.
The programme as it was revealed on stage consisted of seven nocturnes by John Field and three sonatas by Beethoven. Ott had discovered Field’s music during lockdown and became an ardent advocate. Field was known as the “Irish Chopin” which, even allowing for some normal feelings of pride in one’s own compatriot, has always struck me as a bit of an exaggeration. He has nice melodies but it’s not music that would raise the heartbeat to any degree; his music lacks the urgency that might demand a place in a full-length concert. After a couple of nocturnes, I found myself sated.
Nonetheless, the way Ott could spin the gossamer thread of her melodies with such delicacy in these nocturnes was nothing short of ravishing. She impressed so much with the extraordinary control of dynamics with a ppp that merely tickled the ear or a rippling left hand that was beautifully subservient to the right hand melody. Her sense of phrasing and rubato was perfectly timed from the sorrowful singing in the C minor of no. 2 to the whimsical, almost giddy liveliness of no. 17.
Despite my earlier misgivings, there was plenty of variety of styles on offer. No.12 was chirpily played with some terrific Schubertian key changes, while there was a darker menace to the swirl of harmonies in no. 4. Ott imbued the E minor no. 9 with an elegiac poise with its melody of lamentation.
The Beethoven sonatas provided a welcome change of pace. Op.49 no.1, a brief two-movement work in G minor, bubbled along merrily, with Ott bringing out the playful sforzando accents with finesse. Op.109, one of Beethoven’s final sonatas, was imbued with a profound romanticism. Ott’s interpretation sounded almost Schumannesque in its impassioned gestures, alternating between moments of tranquil stillness and passages of fierce, rhapsodic energy.
However, it was in the Moonlight Sonata that Ott rose to new levels. I have never heard this iconic piece performed with such intensity and depth. The opening movement, often reduced to a series of tired clichés by lesser pianists, was imbued with hauntingly evocative phrasing. The notes seemed to float in a suspended atmosphere, suffused with a profound sadness. While the final movement was in Ott’s own words “a chase from hell”. The snarl of the sf chords and the frenetic arpeggios were thrilling, the tension mounting to an unbearable degree before Ott unleashed a breathtaking outburst of sound – a moment of visceral power that left the audience breathless.
