The opening event in the Southbank’s “deep dive” to mark the centenary of the György Ligeti's birth was an hour-long masterclass in the wonders of the composer's creative imagination, a stunning tribute to one of the 20th century’s most original thinkers in musical aesthetics and evidence of Pierre-Laurent Aimard's deep affection for this great innovator and his creations. For this tribute, Aimard presented pieces that vividly illustrated Ligeti’s considerable gifts as a sound artist and colourist: the Chromatische phantasie, Musica Ricercata, and a selection from the Etudes.
Chromatische phantasie is an item of evidence for Ligeti’s blind date with serialism, a “Dear John” letter recording an assignation that ended rather abruptly but decisively. In it, the composer gives his personal thoughts on dodecaphonic clothing, the quality of its material, and the manner in which it was worn. Aimard’s reading of the document was well-nuanced, highlighting that Ligeti gave the encounter his best shot. Evidently there was little in the way of small talk – a few pleasantries, some respectful asides, one or two moments of jocularity – all of which Aimard related in a touchingly understated tone of voice.
Seeking new adventures, Ligeti made an audacious attempt to “create music out of nothing”, the result of which is the marvellous Musica Ricercata. It is an imaginatively constructed suite starting with two notes (A and D) and progressively adding others until the entire chromatic scale is dragooned into service. The resulting eleven pieces evoke a vivid frieze depicting an eccentric theatre of varieties. Its opening flourish – a drum-roll on A, spanning three octaves – summons a cast of grease-painted entertainers, including slapstick comedians, jugglers, plate-spinners, fire-eaters and an aged Coppélia missing beats in a forlorn waltz. Aimard’s portrayal of all the characters was highly dramatic, moulding the material with great style and teasing out the full range of Ligeti’s gestures.
There is nothing in Ligeti’s output that is anywhere as flamboyant as the Etudes, a late flowering of peerless creativity. They resemble an exceptionally brilliant haute-couture collection, made up of the most fantastical of creations – more Schiaparelli than Chanel. With their references to the tone-colours and rhythms of Sub-Saharan Africa, Southeast Asia and the Caribbean, they are from a planet very different to the one that gives asylum to another great folio of etudes, Stockhausen’s Klavierstücke.
Aimard’s performance of six pieces from the collection (nos. 7, 8, 2, 6, 11 and 13) was a tour de force of masterful pianism. The quite brilliant choreography of the fingers needed to negotiate the fearsome complexity of the writing was astonishing to witness. Within that virtuosity there was a delightful display of fine details, flashes of exotic colours and the artful sculpting of the individual shapes that give pieces their distinctive character.
The thirteenth etude was Ligeti’s final composition, his farewell to the world of ideas which serves as the last will and testimony to creative ingenuity. Alarmingly entitled L’Escalier du diable (The Devil’s Staircase), it requires emotional energy and physical prowess in equal measure to present it in all its magnificence. Aimard was lifted out of his seat by the rapt passion of his playing. It was breathtaking to watch, soul-searing to hear. The music fell glowing from the deepest rung of the ladder into a darkness that seemed to last an eternity. Emerging into the sunlight of a chilly afternoon, it took me some time to recover my equilibrium.
