Canadian Marc-André Hamelin stands out from his generation, as both a highly accomplished pianist and composer and, remarkably, an artist, who boldly promotes not only the standard repertoire but also compositions of lesser-known composers, often from the last century or so. He is comparable in the versatility of his artistic interests, instrumental skills and age group to Olli Mustonen and Stephen Hough. His debut tour in Australia included both orchestral concerts and solo recitals. On Monday night, he appeared in front of a nearly sold-out house in Sydney, performing an extremely demanding programme.
A concert that begins with Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata, because the other major work, Rachmaninov’s Second Sonata (ending the recital), might technically speaking be even more challenging, is gargantuan in its ambitions. Not that Hamelin’s stage behaviour showed any anxiety. He appeared to be calm and focused from the explosive fanfare opening of Beethoven’s sonata in B flat major all the way to the cascading, agitated run beginning the Rachmaninov in B flat minor – clearly, there was a parallel between the two sonatas, bookending the performance.
Seldom can one hear such demanding works in such a polished performance. The dynamic contrasts and the clarity of the structure were just as clear in the Beethoven sonata, as were the many syncopated melodic lines and frequent tempo changes in the Russian master’s work. The Hammerklavier boasts one of the longest slow movements Beethoven ever wrote, close to twenty minutes of unstoppable brooding, full of angst and resignation, performed in this concert with utmost care to the meditative rubato of the here dark, there delicate melodies. In Rachmaninov’s work, the central, slow movement is not separated from the opening one, apart from a curiously marked short Non allegro section (it is highly unusual that a composer describes something not by what it is but by the opposite…)
The second half of the concert began with two shorter works by another Russian composer, Nikolai Medtner, Improvisation, the first from his Op.31, segued by the third of his Forgotten Melodies, Op.38, Danza festiva. The fifth of Rachmaninov’s Op.39 Études-Tableaux followed, connected to seamlessly, as if an additional movement but preceding the Sonata. It even ended in E flat major, appropriately foreshadowing the opening key of the first movement.
Oddly, the most touching, sensitive moments of the recital arrived at the end, with the two encores: the sublime beauty of Reflets dans l’eau (Reflections in the Water) from Debussy’s Images and Brazilian composer, Radamés Gnattali’s rambunctious Negaceando.
It began as, and remained, a highly accomplished, meticulously executed concert. If anything, it left a yearning for the Artist’s Struggle with (the limitations of?) his talent and the seemingly impossible demands of his chosen repertoire. Compared with pianistic giants like Beethoven, Medtner and Rachmaninov, everybody must appear to be an artistic underdog, right? And audiences love cheering for the underdog. This was an even fight, however, with all sides victorious.
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