When I first settled into my red velvet seat at Carnegie Hall, my excitement was overtaken by a grim foreboding. The hall’s internationally celebrated acoustics were offering an all-too-dazzling earful of sneezes and sniffles – a fact I observed in a germaphobic panic. Flu season has arrived in New York, but that didn’t deter anyone from attending Pierre-Laurent Aimard’s solo piano recital last Thursday. In fact, the hall was packed full of diverse (if sickly) listeners anticipating this incredibly versatile performer’s concert.
Mr Aimard, born in 1957 in Lyon, France, was a student at the Paris Conservatoire before becoming, at age 19, the first solo pianist of Pierre Boulez’s Ensemble intercontemporain. Significantly, however, Mr Aimard does not specialize solely in the challenging avant-garde works of Boulez and other 20th-century composers such as Karlheinz Stockhausen and Elliott Carter. The French pianist possesses the daunting ability to interpret and crystallize notes written throughout all periods, from all regions, with grace and sensitivity. This is why his interpretation of “Romantic” sounds by Schumann ran so fluidly alongside his performance of a more obscure “modern” work by Heinz Holliger and a set of intricate preludes by Debussy. Mr Aimard’s tone is delicate yet searingly emotional, and his presence is quietly passionate, in contrast to many virtuoso pianists. He radiates intensity and, where others might reach for showiness, he offers a simmering seriousness, conveying the composer’s message rather than his own.
During the first half of the program, he showered the audience (whose sniffles had somewhat abated) with Book II of Claude Debussy’s Préludes. Debussy, one of the controversial artistic figures of the early 20th century, was born in 1862, making 2012 the 150th anniversary of his birth-year (an event somewhat less celebrated than the centenary of John Cage, also this year). Debussy is credited with pushing classical music “forward” with his sensual harmonies, blending tonal, modal, and chromatic thoughts. He was more interested in abstractions – timbre and color – than in conventional aesthetics, and he is often labeled an “Impressionist” composer, despite his personal opposition to the term. Christening this collection Préludes, according to the program notes, was just one of his many tactics to disassociate himself from the Impressionist movement: “preludes” carry a traditional, almost bland connotation, in comparison with a visually evocative title such as Images.
It became clear to me during Mr Aimard’s performance why “symbolist” or even “realist” is a much more appropriate designation for Debussy than “impressionist”. The twelve Préludes conjured much more than impressions or vague images. Instead, the rippling harmonies, the overlapping textures, and the unpredictable, labyrinthine chromaticism created the realities Debussy so longed to depict. During “Feuilles mortes”, I didn’t glimpse dead leaves fluttering behind my eyelids each time I blinked – no, Mr Aimard took the notes themselves and transformed them into dead leaves. During “La puerta del vino”, I could almost taste the wine flowing along the sound waves permeating the hall. Throughout the final prelude, “Feux d'artifice”, the notes became fireworks, each phrase a delightful, unexpected explosion of colors and light. This metamorphosis actuated by Mr Aimard, this ability to take music and turn it into not impressions but realities, would surely have pleased Debussy himself.