You Want it Darker? Evgeny Kissin gives a dark-hued San Francisco recital

There is something almost sinister about Evgeny Kissin’s demeanor as he takes curtain call after curtain call. Walking slowly, avoiding eye contact, he then shakes off his slight grimace with his arms and upper body, before switching to a broad but curiously frozen smile.

These are part of the familiar Kissin package; as is his Glenn Gould-style lowered seat, his jaw-dropping technical facility, his larger-than-life sonorities and an artistry that is startling and astonishing but rarely moving. This was particularly the case in his Bach C minor Partita. Whether or not it was in an attempt to emulate organ-like monumentality, the French Overture-style opening came across as severe and colourless. The following Andante, with its twisting and turning melody over a walking bass, lacked persuasive phrasing and long-term shaping, and the fugue, though lighter in attack, was still overly cerebral. Grouping the first three movements, and separating out the Sarabande at the work’s heart, Kissin introduced elaborate variations in repeats – all stylish enough – but still kept emotionally at arm’s length. Despite the spritely final movements and the general clarity of polyphony texture, the interpretation fell short on joy and intimacy, as the audience’s polite but relatively lukewarm response reflected.

With a cluster of Chopin pieces Kissin’s individual voice came into its own. The feverishly cryptic C sharp minor Nocturne was haunting and dark-hued, even the light at the end barely registering more than a feeble flicker, and the usually carefree A flat major Nocturne was menacingly hesitant and restrained. Unusual but certainly compelling. The dazzling fingerwork of the Scherzo no. 4 in E major pretty much silenced any doubts, as a Lisztian dramatic sweep alternated with disturbing shadows. The central section was resonant but noble.

The second half of the concert was dedicated to Shostakovich, the 50th anniversary of whose death has inspired Kissin’s ‘Shostakovich Project’, a series of solo and star-studded chamber concerts. The nervous, infernal energy of the Second Piano Sonata perfect suits Kissin’s temperament, and he breezed through the ferocious passagework of the first movement with supersonic ease. The enigmatic second movement kept its secrets close to its chest, as it always does, but the dreamy episodes rang true, as oases in an emotional desert. The wonderful finale theme was tinged with melancholy and regret, and the broader dramatic architecture of the movement emerged with tremendous conviction.

The same could be said of the two following Preludes and Fugues. The D flat major was unrepentantly brutal, only letting up for some sardonic humour. And the monumentality of the D minor was a throwback to the opening Bach Partita, but here wrapped in human tragedy, with the piano sound now much more cushioned, as Kissin unfolded the magnificent cathedral-like structure. The programme note reminded us of Tatyana Nikolaeva (the dedicatee of Preludes and Fugues) making her final concert appearance in 1993 at San Francisco’s Herbst Theatre, during which she suffered a cerebral haemorrhage, leading to her death nine days later at California Pacific Medical Centre.

Three generous encores rewarded anyone for whom Shostakovich was too unremittingly dark: an arch back to Bach with a gloriously intimate rendition of the Flute Sonata Siciliano, a speed-of-light Chopin B flat minor Scherzo, and finally a gentle release with his bitter-sweet C sharp minor Waltz. The audience would gladly have stayed for three more encores, or indeed any number Kissin chose to offer. Whatever the oddities of his musical personality, there are few artists of whom such a thing could be said.