Haydn, Beethoven, Schubert, Mozart: Alfred Brendel (piano). Royal Festival Hall, 14. 6. 2007 (CC)

 

Imparting a certain symmetry to the RFH closure, Alfred Brendel presented the first piano concert at the newly revamped Festival Hall. His marvellous recital in 2005 was the piano farewell to the venue, and here he was in 2007 welcoming us all back into a spanking clean RFH.

Much has been made of the refurb. The most noticeable difference to the performer, initially at least, is that a door now opens directly onto the stage (there is no overlap with any space the audience may use, therefore – I remember one respected violinist saying in interview that she disapproved of that performer/artist contact!). Acoustically, in the Beethoven there was some loss of treble brightness. I feel sure I know the sound Brendel was aiming at, a characteristic treble 'glisten', that fell rather flat on its face. Otherwise the sound was nicely balanced from the stalls, just above the 'break' (Door 4), but just somewhat lacking in fullness of body. I look forward very much to judging an orchestral concert ...

Why the decision was taken to have the hall lights up so high and therefore shining brightly throughout the concert is beyond me. It seemed to breed restlessness in the capacity audience, encouraging rustling and coughing. Maybe it even prodded  into action the various mobiles and electronic alarms that chorused around 9pm?. There seems no point in restating my annoyance at the scourge of modern life, the mobile phone (yes, I am aware of its potentially life-saving qualities. But I am aware it has the off button, too). If people cannot learn how to switch them off, they should not be allowed to own them. Perhaps some sort of licence should be introduced by the government, a sort of driving licence equivalent?

It was a miracle that Brendel managed to conjure any sort of intimacy at all in these circumstances. Yet he is, to put it mildly, a seasoned performer and so his decision to begin with the Haydn Sonata No. 33 in C minor (which begins with a Moderato first movement) was probably less brave than it sounds. It paid off, though, with the music's restless shiftings giving more the impression of a fantasy than a sonata. The modernity of certain parts of the development, with its large registral gaps, was highlighted, as was Brendel's intention to make the work a whole by his raising his hands in warning against too much coughing between movements. The tempo of this slow movement seemed slower than Haydn's recommended Andante con moto, and so brought much repose; the finale balanced this with prominent cheek. The cross-handed effects here were fascinating to watch. Brendel's Philips recordings of Haydn Sonatas have long been considered classics, and rightly so. Here was a reminder as to why.

Paul Lewis tackled the challenge of Beethoven's Op. 110 just a few days ago, with mixed results (it was the weakest link in a concert that presented a chain of the last three Beethoven sonatas). Brendel is a Beethoven player of much greater experience, and how it showed. A lifetime of accrued knowledge (and I include emotional knowledge in that term) shone through an interpretation that consistently had the measure of Beethoven's depth. There was no need for a period of waiting for silence. Brendel launched straight in, and the effect was immediate despite the soft opening. A gorgeous, molten trill exemplified the beauty he found in the first movement, contrasting this to the steelier Allegro molto (more cross-hand effects; presumably the link to the Haydn was deliberate). But it was the finale that was stunning, with real pianissimi to introduce the fugue.

Two of Schubert's D935 Impromptus graced the second half, the F minor and the B flat. The Hungarian flavour of the F minor brought with it plenty of Schubertian drama as well as much neuaty (damn those mobile phones that attempted to protest!). The Third Impromptu flowed as if improvised, reminding us of the composer's propensity for heavenly length.

It fell to Mozart to close the recital. The C minor Sonata, K457 (which Brendel makes a point of presenting without the C minor Fantasy, K475) was driven by the very devil himself, it appeared. The first movement was very definitely Molto allegro (one passage unexpectedly went awry); the second, ultra-expressive, seeming to relate itself to the slow movement of Beethoven's Op. 10/1 Sonata (also in C minor). This was a reading of the utmost integrity.

Good to report that already I have good memories of the 'new' RFH, even if most of them are purely musical.

 

Colin Clarke