Coupling Yuja Wang and Víkingur Ólafsson – two of the most charismatic piano superstars of their generation – was never guaranteed to pay off. The one sashays on stage in stilettos, iPad in hand; the other, a full foot taller, comes sporting an immaculate forest-green suit, music and page-turner in tow. The marketing around this concert tour has been all about ‘difference’. But beyond appearances, the duo share more traits than first apparent. Their distinct styles blend seamlessly, and their equally fun-loving personalities made for an irresistible evening of music.
Assuming the primo part throughout, Yuja Wang caressed the pearly high notes of Berio’s Wasserklavier, never rising above a whisper. This set the tone for Schubert’s Fantasia in F minor, the pair choosing restrained intensity over virtuosity. Written in the final year of Schubert’s life, melancholy looms round every corner as storm clouds threatened even the most lyrical major-key passages. What Wang and Ólafsson may have lost in playing on two pianos, rather than the intimacy of duetting on one, they more than made up for in their subtle dynamic shading. Ólafsson brought his mastery of voicing to bear in the secondo role, the duo always managing to remain together despite lashings of rubato. Only in the concluding fugue did they let rip, as urgent triplets gave way to prolonged silence and a coda of bleak resignation.
After a meditative, almost trance-like rendition of Cage’s Experiences no. 1, the mood lightened. In Nancarrow’s Player Piano Study no. 6, the pair breezed through its extreme rhythmic challenges and jazzed up Thomas Adès’ arrangement with extra tremolos for good measure. As Ólafsson launched into John Adams’ Hallelujah Junction at fear-inducing tempo, the light relief dissipated with startling speed. Both players excel in Adams’ music, and their performance could scarcely have been more manic. Interlocking rhythms filled the nearly 3000-strong hall, a crazed grin spreading across Wang’s face during the first movement’s ‘karate chop’ chords. This relentless drive continued for 15 minutes, with melodic fragments passing from one piano to the other at mesmerising pace. The duo thrust the piece into overdrive in its final moments, tilting dangerously on the verge of utter mayhem.
After an obligatory Yuja outfit change, the ringing G sharps of Arvo Pärt’s Hymn to a Great City gave way to Rachmaninov’s last major work, his Symphonic Dances. The equality of Rachmaninov’s piano writing assures both pianists opportunity in the spotlight, and the level of coordination intensified. The tonally ambiguous opening soon gave way to lush harmonies and growling bass octaves, the earworm three-note motif propelling the first movement forward. There was devilish charm to the Tempo di valse, all sinuous chromatic lines, which erupted into chaos as the enigmatic waltz figure meets its violent end. Wang and Ólafsson plunged into the menacing sonorities of the finale, and the coda – where Rachmaninov pits the haunting Dies irae theme against a quotation from his All-Night Vigil – raced along triumphantly to the finish line. At this point in the score, Rachmaninov wrote the word “Hallelujah” to signify the victory of the Resurrection theme over the Dies irae. Sergei had a few other “Hallelujahs” to compete with tonight.
No Yuja Wang performance would be complete without encores. The duo obliged, with polished gems from Brahms, Schubert, Dvořák and Tsfasman. While Wang has been known to give ten in a single night, Ólafsson rarely exceeds one: they settled on a comfortable middle ground of six. “We might play until the Tube stops running!” Ólafsson quipped after number four. I’m sure I wasn’t alone in considering the night bus.
