Boris Giltburg is attentive to detail. From the very first of Chopin’s 24 Preludes, Op. 28, on Saturday evening, it was clear how much the Russian-Israeli pianist appreciates the individual quirks and nuances of each piece, in a recital which evinced subtlety.
Giltburg’s playing has attracted a good deal of praise, which accounts for the full house at this latest instalment in his Chopin Plus series. The early preludes – sometimes bittersweet, sometimes agonising – were gorgeously shaped, rubato aplenty without ever becoming self-indulgent. Choosing delicacy over attack, he subdued the fire of no. 8 (F sharp minor), playing less molto agitato than is often heard, but freeing its inner vocal line to shine through.
Occasionally, this approach worked less well. In the most technically demanding of the preludes, such as no. 16 (B flat minor), there was an over-focus on rubato and introspection to the detriment of unrelenting drive. However, if there were any doubts around Giltburg’s capacity for power, they were swept aside by a ferocious no. 18 (F minor), the last two fff chords particularly terrifying.
What bound this set together was a kind of poetry-out-of-introspection. From the gentle rocking of no. 13 (F sharp major) to the sheer loveliness of no. 17 (A flat major), through to the aching chromaticism of no. 21 (B flat major) – the cantabile line like a string of glimmering pearls – Giltburg was at his best in the lyrical moments. Recalling Liszt’s intuitive description of the preludes, this was a performance that “cradled the soul in golden dreams”.
Second half, and a second set of preludes. Giltburg’s rendition of Rachmaninov’s Op.32 Preludes instantly felt more intense, more intoxicating than the Chopin. No. 4 (E minor) was dizzying, unpredictable, discombobulating. No. 9 (A major) was heady, its textures thick and intricate. No. 10 (B minor) – did Rachmaninov ever write a more desperately sad piece? – had great depth, enriched by Giltburg’s distinctive use of the middle sostenuto pedal and his faultless passagework in the closing flourish. The blood was in full flow for the final prelude, building to a ravishing D flat major climax.
But on this chilly December evening, it was the warm glow of no. 5 in G major that lingered most. Within this prelude lies a world where sunlight glistens on long grass blades, where the storm clouds of G minor hover but never intrude on paradise and quintuplets float by in a summer haze. Giltburg led us there and allowed us to bask for a while.
After 37 preludes, who could resist a little more Rach? The encores were two surefire crowd-pleasers – Rachmaninov’s stylish transcription of Kreisler’s Liebesleid, followed by a quicksilver Prelude in G minor from his earlier Op.23 set. At Giltburg’s lightning speed, they went down a treat.
