Amateurs 2007 blog

There’s been a lot of commenting in the last blog entry on repertoire. I thought I’d post a new entry.

On the subject of Alkan, and programming, I’ll weigh in with care…

Van loves to note that “there is music enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is never enough for Music.” More pragmatically: there are oceans of keyboard music out there. If you’re a bassoonist, it doesn’t take too long to hit bottom. But we pianists have an immensely varied and vast repertoire. One of my teachers once told me “there are no undiscovered masterpieces.” But hey, I’m now sitting on something like 14,000 digitized piano scores and am overwhelmed by the variety and scope of it all. Music is such a chore to figure out, notate, and get published that most of the thoughtful, original pieces out there had to have been loved by someone at least once…

That’s where we come in. One of the joys and contributions of our amateur world: we’re blissfully unconstrained by market appetites, or the need to play the obvious standard rep that has been pounded to death. When I think back over all the Cliburns, I’m often taken by people who pour their heart into some treasure I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing before. At the Cliburn amateur, we can revel in the fact that many people will explore repertoire that is unusual, intriguing and not always from the thoroughly beaten path.

That said. Sometimes the personalities of a performer and a piece come together in a way that warms the whole room, or jolts the crowd out of their seats and onto their feet after a sizzling finale. And sometimes one or the other (or both) don’t quite ignite, and can leave people scratching their heads. It’s surprising how often musicians seem to play pieces because they think they should, or because they have to, or because they think the choices have “gravitas” — rather than just picking something wonderful, and maybe even rare, that they can simply pour their heart into. It has extended into the “LP syndrome” in which pianists program all the Chopin ballades, or all the waltzes, on a single recital — because they heard them all collected on one disk. God knows Chopin never envisioned them that way. A big part of what we pianists do is plan thoughtful programs. Who wants the musical equivalent of an Atkins diet?

I noted that I didn’t feel any of the final round repertoire struck me as likely to produce a tidal wave of standing-o’s. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but competitions are so often won in that way). For example, the Ravel Rigaudon, which is crisp, fresh and absolutely charming, isn’t nearly as peppy as the Toccata from the Tombeau, or Ondine, or one of the big scherzos of d’Albert, or any of a number of choices that might have been coupled with the preceding pieces. Even the Barber, which is extroverted and romantic in a way, has quite a lot of gristle for folks to chew on. I feel the Alkan falls into a similar category — it’s an enigma, and a lot to absorb in one hearing. Too much for most, I would venture to say. I think I can pretty confidently predict that nobody who plays an all-Sorabji final round (say, 30 minutes out of the Opus Clavicembalabombasticum) will ever win a Cliburn piano competition.

It can be interesting when a performer changes the program. I loved Henri’s idea to play the Poulenc pieces, which were absolutely exquisite, along with the Schubert Wanderer. I personally don’t revel in the Wanderer, and felt it needed to be played in an extraordinary way in order to be a competition winner. But I know the feeling. Once upon a time, in the Cliburn finals, I cast my lot with Liszt’s sonata. The Liszt kills the whole half hour, and it ends with a long, slow fade (followed by Brahms snoring loudly…). I knew it wouldn’t have much chance against the much less familiar steely blockbuster of Prokofiev 8th. I also knew it was becoming a bit familiar and shopworn, and that many would have lost the ability to enjoy it (or words to that effect, as Carl quipped). But I played it because I’ve always longed to, because I wanted to spend some time understanding the biggest single solo work that Liszt poured all his energy and talent into at the height of his compositional career, and because I felt I had different things to say through the piece than the zillion other recorded performances offered. I didn’t finish “in the money” but I was still very glad I played it — if only to get the damned thing out of my system. Afterwards, Scott Cantrell told me it was the best performance of the Liszt he’d ever heard. That reminded me that even if a performer touches just one person in an audience that way, it’s worth all the trouble.

Approaching these finals, I was very eager to hear the combination of Rorem and Barber, and of course, curious to be exposed to the Alkan. As I reflected on this year’s final performances, I came to feel that everyone indeed made very personal choices, for musical reasons without regard to “designing to win,” and that all of the music was played with real dedication and care. I found that deeply satisfying.

Mike

The jury has filed onto the stage and taken their seats.

There are two Steinways, nesting on stage. The only question is, how many people will be playing? Four Gold Medalists in a Sousa March or William Tell overture? A P.D.Q. Bach arrangement? We shall see.

Alann is making a few heartfelt remarks about inspiration and the spirit, and compliments the 75 competitors. She also issues a reminder: Mark those calendars for 2011! It’s astonishing to note that we are a year away from the 50th year of Cliburn activities.

Van’s turn, and with his inimitable sincerity, he expresses his thanks to all for participation, and for cultivating the beautiful things in music that lift our hearts. Van also recalls his dear friend Rostropovich, and the hopefulness and heartwarming effect that great music has on our lives.

Steve now introduces TCU’s provost and vice chancellor, Nowell Donovan. Nowell, a Brit, shares a colorful story about bagpipes and the Rant of the Clan MacDougal:

My loss! My loss!
Oh for three hands!
Two for the pipes and one for the sword!

It’s a definition of passion — well, a bagpiper’s… — and another way to express the joy and devotion the Cliburn Class of ‘07 has brought to music, and to TCU.

Now Richard Rodzinski is attempting to thank the many, many people who have really done everything to make the competition happen. Hard to capture here. And now it’s the jury’s turn to give back — the four gold medalists, playing an 8 hand arrangement of waltzes from Gounod’s “Faust” (sorry gang, I don’t have the scan of this old chestnut!), and I’m thinking, a bonus after that… Yep, the Stars & Stripes! Fabulous fun!

Whew!

John Giordano’s turn now, to list the winners. First he’ll introduce the two juries, the main jury and the press jury.

And here we go.

The Jury Discretionary Awards:
Thomas Maurice
Kent Lietzau

Best Baroque Performance:
Clark Griffith

Best Classical Performance:
Franz Mantini

Best Romantic Performance:
Drew Mays

Best Post-Romantic Performance:
Mark Fuller

Most Creative Programming:
Esfir Ross

Audience Award (comes with Cowboy Boots!):
Drew Mays

Press Jury Award:
Mark Fuller

A new surprise award from Apple:
the top three winners are now iTunes artists!

And now:

THIRD PRIZE:
Clark Griffith

SECOND PRIZE:
Mark Fuller

THE RICHARD RODZINSKI FIRST PRIZE:
Drew Mays

Goodness!

Well, tough luck there, Drew. You’ve just played yourself out of the Cliburn from now on.

At this point, I’m going to sign off and let the rest of you discuss.

Bravo to all, heartfelt congratulations to the winners, and sincere thanks to all the devoted volunteers, staff members, jurors, and the wonderful audience who make this such an extraordinary and magical event.

— Mike Hawley

Please post your thoughts here…

There’s an hour before announcements will be made.

For my part, I am eager to go for a walk with Nina and little Tashi.

But a few quick thoughts.

At the top of the day, for me, were:

Henri-Robert Delbeau
Mark Fuller

Utterly different performers in repertoire that could not have been farther apart. Both extroardinary. I’d vote for a tie there. They can’t be ranked. One sensed that the audience had more heartfelt affinity with Henri, while Mark’s modest nature and the Barber’s challenges posed more of an impediment.

I’d then expect:

Clark Griffith

Followed by…

…well, gosh. I can’t say. I think I’d cast my lot with Ken Iisaka, just because he’s so spunky, and for me, so much in tune with the wonderful, passionate spirit of this competition. But it was hard not to be impressed at a certain level by Slava Levin’s musclebound Schumann.

I felt Drew Mays was in some sense the one who struggled the most, and I’d be surprised to see him in the top three. And yet, he clearly got the biggest audience huzzahs for his Mephisto waltz, and will probably be the audience favorite on that basis. Actually, forgetting about the problems in the Waldstein, he negotiated a lot of the Liszt surprisingly well, and most importantly, he just went for it, pulling everyone along for the ride.

I would also note that I personally didn’t feel much affinity for Clark Griffith’s playing, and the transcription — while polished — really missed the mark for me. And yet, his lapidary playing was probably the most perfect of the day.

One good metric to use: which of these performances do you think you will feel in your heart, and recall with clarity, in four years at Cliburn ‘11, or Cliburn ‘15, or … ?

Isn’t it interesting to see how the counterpoint of personalities (performers and composers) plays out so unpredictably as they jockey toward the finish — and the effect that the mixture has on the audience.

I have got to take a walk!

— MH

Mark is dropping one of the three etudes, but all else is intact:

Rorem: Etudes #2 & #5
Barber: Sonata, op26 (1949)

Mark takes a long time to relax at the bench, gathering his thoughts. It gives the whole audience pause to wonder what these pieces will sound like, and to be drawn into his focus. A good reminder that one can play the silences to great effect.

The first etude consists of slow, quiet bitonal-sounding chromatic clusters played softly enough to shimmer. It’s not a complex or arduous piece, but is — like Henri’s Poulenc — a captivating way to begin. The second etude is a little harder for me to characterize. It has sections of long arching melodic lines, distinctly American and very “Rorem” in shape, framed by trills and quietly glistening riffs. Another very effective coloristic piece. The Rorem doesn’t really ring my bells at all, frankly, but I sense that Mark is giving us pristine performances of it. Obviously, it has none of the insouciant charm of the Poulenc we heard earlier from Henri.

After the Prokofiev, the Barber is the piece I’ve been most eagerly looking forward to. Mark projects a quiet, focused, introverted presence (the diametric opposite of, say, “Mr. Hollywood,” Paul Romero) and he seems to use every erg of attention to shape his exceptionally beautiful sound. And the Barber is a piece that is sculptural in nature. Mark has a stunning command of this complex, multi-textured work. The music will definitely not be everyone’s cup of tea. I mean, Casey Kasem isn’t going to be plugging it on the Top 40 anytime this millenium. But I think everyone will sense Mark’s exceptional mastery. He hasn’t missed a note in this exceedingly complex score, and his touch is exquisitely controlled.

As I listen to Mark’s performance I find myself thinking back to other striking modern moments in these competitions — Basso’s Prokofiev, Holoubek’s Dutilleux. This is performance is in that league, although unlike either of them, he is not enjoying that sort of connection with the audience. The final fugue, jazzy and enormous, was pretty phenomenal.

The Barber and Mark seem well suited to each other. Rorem, too. Hard to imagine anyone ever playing it better. Wow. Sort of makes you wish Samuel Barber had been alive to hear something like that. Mark deserves a huge standing ovation, but very few are. Alas, both this tough piece and intellectual performer are not easy for most listeners to relate to. Despite his astonishing command, this is not going to win him the audience award. But I’ll be surprised if the jury (and possibly the press jury) don’t give him top nods. That will probably put the jury and audience at odds, but hey, that’s nothing new here.

This has been a heady program, and a most interesting day.

Time to ponder.

— Mike

Drew now takes the stage — in white tie.

Beethoven: Sonata #21 in C, op53: Waldstein
Liszt: Mephisto Waltz

The Waldstein sounds a bit green in Drew’s fingers. I’m sure he’s nervous. He thoughtfully takes quite a bit of time to breathe before the slow micro-movement. From up here in the balcony, the sound is a bit clipped somehow. I think there’s room for more delicacy in the pedaling. Technically, the fast stuff is not always all there, but he’s put a lot of energy into it and finishes with a great flourish.

Ah, Mephisto! It’s a devil of a piece… And Drew has an excellent overall feel for it. I’ve played it many times. After you get past the finger stuff, and then the storytelling, it’s all about personality. While there are many beautiful moments here, and he’s gone for broke in the final stretches, I don’t think Drew’s performances of these standards will pull him into the top three. But as expected, this is a piece that always gets people jumping, and it’s won Drew the biggest ovation of the day! He’s played through all the barbed wire in this piece, and really gone for it.

Hm!

— MH

On musical grounds, I think the ranking right now is:

Delbeau
Griffith
et al.

Everyone’s terrific. Ken wins for sheer enthusiasm and joie de vivre, but the piece was completely bonkers. Slava Levin plays spectacularly well (and the memory of his gorgeous Scriabin isn’t lost for me) but it’s just awfully hard to squeeze much heartfelt music out of those particular Schumann choices. Uh… Traumerai?

By contrast, Clark Griffith played perfectly. I didn’t care for the program design, but you can go to a lot of concerts and never hear a better Mozart sonata. Almost too professional.

Henri, I thought, had the most to offer so far. The Poulenc was exquisite, and the Schubert as grand and handsome as can be.

On we go…

— MH

Slava has dusted off the old tux from his concertizing days, and he plunges into the Faschingsschwank with aplomb even before the crowd has a chance to settle down.

Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien, op26
Schumann: Toccata, op7

Slava will do a manly job in this music. I’ve always found this piece to be more obstinate, obsessive and bangy than the implied carnival scenery would suggest. I’ve often felt that many people soldier through the bulk of it just so they can play the lovely intermezzo (the fourth movement). Personally, I haven’t had the patience and just can’t connect with it at a gut level. He had a few minor little slips that few will notice or mind, especially since he has such commanding fingers for this piece. The hands of a pro.

I’m feeling this music isn’t the right repertoire to allow Slava to rise above the rest of the field. If anything, it does the opposite. It’s something of a professional’s piece. I’m not up on Schumann history, but you get the sense that at this stage, and with these sorts of things, he must have been hustling to carve out his pianistic career. Well, I bet the Toccata will be white hot.

…

And here we go.

As I noted earlier, this knuckle-busting blizzard of perpetual motion is an outstanding stimulus for tendonitis. Oy! You would never want to be in the apartment next door to anyone learning this stuff. This is a symptom of the kind of OCD itch that probably drove Schumann to jump off the bridge. Be that as it may, Slava leaves little doubt that not only can he play this fiendish piece, but probably few people in the world can play it any better.

Well, you certainly get a standing ovation for chainsawing through this score. But I can’t help but feel that this was not the best, or most heartfelt, repertoire he could have chosen. As impressive as it was to the audience, all those notes somehow leave a void for the heart.

The field seems more level to me now. Actually, less than level. The Alkan and Schumann, while impressive, have a somewhat hollow effect. That lifts up Henri and Clark, and of those two, I felt more from the heart in Henri’s playing.

— MH

As Steve reminds us, Jon Nakamatsu recounted last night that some juror had told him that a Japanese man didn’t have much business playing Chopin. Ken pointed out to Steve that he had no Chopin in his programs. But he did bring the next best thing: a little ditty from Chopin’s next-door neighbor, the redoubtable Charles-Valentin Alkan.

Ken’s all smiles, and looking relaxed and ready to rock and roll in a blue shirt and black parts.

And … he’s off! Ken’s launched into this piece with real bite. He’s clearly going to let er’ rip with this unusual romantic rarity (and potboiler). I’ve certainly never heard it performed, and I’d be surprised if anyone else in the room has. A little boundless enthusiasm gets you far.

Alkan: Etude in g#, op39n8

Ken’s off and running now, having cruised through the first 30 bruising pages or so. In some of the lyrical spots, this sounds like stream of consciousness Chopin. And then, suddenly — wham! — it blasts off again sounding like one of those 88-fisted robots breaking in a piano action at the Yamaha factory. Some of the textures are Saint-Saens like. No doubt I will never hear this piece played better, in part since I can’t imagine ever hearing it played again.

Ken’s command of the piece is genuine, and he’s making as much music as one can. It’s a considerable feat to play it from memory. But what a fascinating and rare glimpse into the bizarro world of one of the most enigmatic pianist-composers of all time. Sort of a precursor to Sorabji. Or Nancarrow.

I predict the tuner will have a look at the piano after this.

We’re up to page 58 now. There’s about 10 pages of machine-gun repeated notes coming now. What a strange piece. I’m struck by Alkan’s inability (maybe indifference would be a better word) to find a winning melody, or develop a larger form.

Ken is hurtling towards the finale now. It’s going to be a biggie… Mercy!!!

All kinds of bravos and a great throng of standing fans, too. It’s safe to say that the prize for Loudest Performance Ever of the Most Unusual Romantic Work is all buttoned up.

And yes indeed, here comes the tuner for a spot check.

— MH

Doubtless many of you have heard the story. Charles Alkan, aged 74, was reaching for a copy of the torah on a high bookshelf, and was crushed to death then the whole case collapsed on him. See for yourselves:

That’s not an actual photograph, of course, but a clever reconstruction attempted at the M.I.T. music library. Anyway, I gather the story is apocryphal. Hugh MacDonald disproved it, and insists that Alkan wasn’t crushed under a bookcase at all. He was smooshed and pinned underneath a falling port-parapluie (one of those gilded-age wrought-iron Parisian umbrella stands). Here’s some background on C-V Alkan and his music.

And here comes the velvet voiced Steve Cumming, introducing Ken.

— MH

Henri has scrapped the first three pieces he’d planned and chosen an absolutely wonderful and refreshing alternative: Poulenc.

Poulenc: Mouvements Perpetuels
Schubert: Wanderer Fantasy

And more good news: Henri has found his coat and tie for the finals.

I guess Henri had mentioned the Poulenc to me the other day and I’d forgotten about it in the sea of repertoire floating around here. What wonderful music: charming, thoughtful, and he plays it with such ease and joy. The freshness of Mozart, and full of the best kind of French intimacy, humor and vivacity. Nobody would ever do better in this music. I do wish we’d hear more Poulenc, but folks do seem to stick to the standards. It’s so nice to hear Henri’s tone, which has always been gorgeous, blossom through this music. Exquisitely done. Sublime. And: he smiled.

Poulenc and Schubert both had such a knack for writing great tunes. So the mouvements will lead handsomely into the Schubert. I’ve little doubt that Henri will play the Wanderer as well as anyone ever has. So well that I’ll eat all my earlier words by the time he’s finished. His sound can be ravishing and his classical touch sure. He has great hands for the piano. Here’s the wiki note on it.

Gosh. Everyone sounds so gorgeous at this piano today. A good reminder that the real connections have to be made across all the notes and from the heart. Also a good reminder that I’m glad not to be a finalist this year…

I always found it interesting that Liszt was attracted enough to this piece to arrange it for piano and orchestra. And that Schubert thought it was too hard to play. What the Hammerklavier was for Beethoven, the Wanderer was for Schubert.

Wow! What a handsome job! A few dozen are on their feet, and cheering now as Henri is called back to the stage. He’s played as beautifully as I’ve ever heard him, and I just know this must have been a beautifully fulfilling performance for him at every level.

I feel sorry for the judges this year.

— MH

Steve has introduced Clark, making clear why the Mozart was chosen: it’s in memory of Clark’s teacher Stephen de Groote, who played it at the “other” Cliburn competition in the late 70’s. The program remains intact.

Bach: Praeludium from the first partita in Bb.

Bach: Fugue in g from the violin sonata, bwv1001

Clark has a very quiet and introspective style that is nicely suited for the opening of this partita. Perfectly elegant.

His arrangement of the enormous violin fugue is rich and lovingly styled, draped with fairly lush harmonies. Bach also made a wonderful organ solo from this piece. The link above is to Leopold Godowsky’s transcription — very different from Clark’s. Clark’s rendition is handsome and loving, and very artfully arranged, although I’ve always felt this to be a much more extroverted work. But Bach is pretty indestructible.

Mozart: Sonata #19 in D, K.576

Clark is playing to his strengths here. He’s got a fabulous touch for Mozart, delicate yet strong, forthright yet beautifully nuanced. The last movement is virtuosic and as perfectly tied together as a Fabergé egg. Sensationally controlled. It’s a pleasure to hear perfect Mozart. (Best Performance of a Classical Work?) Several “bravo’s” and much deserved.

Ravel: Rigaudon, from Tombeau de Couperin

He attacks the Rigaudon with all the crispness and freshness this piece needs. It’s a breath of fresh air and again, played with mechanical precision worthy of a Michelangeli. Maybe with a bit less warmth than “coolth.” Again, many bravos and a warm reception from the audience, though I am not seeing the sort of powerful connection that all the winners have had over the years. I stand by my assertion about the choice of a closer…

We pause now, to swap the bench…

— MH

We’re about 15 minutes behind, and there will be some announcements.

John Giordano is introducing the “press jury” — six new members who represent the best

Donald Rosenberg, Cleveland Plain Dealer
Scott Cantrell, Dallas Morning News
Matt Erikson, Fort Worth Star-Telegram
Andrew Pattner, Chicago Sun Times
Paul Horsley, Kansas City
Matthew Boitch [sp?], New York

Steve kindly reminds us that all of the semifinal performances and final performances will be available on YouTube, and many of the prelims already are.

— MH

10 minutes til showtime.

The order of contestants:

Clark Griffith
Henri-Robert Delbeau
- break -
Ken Iisaka
Slava Levin
- break -
Drew Mays
Mark Fuller

Playing starts in 5 minutes (at 1:01). Awards will be at 6:30pm. Each program is 30 minutes. No punching below the belt, and keep the mouthguards in.

The order is the same throughout the competition, and it’s one of the few things I don’t like here. What they do is shuffle names (subject to travel/arrival needs) to get the order in the preliminary round. And that’s that.

Why don’t I like it? Well, in 2000, I played a pretty good opening round. The guy right after me was Christopher Basso. And again in the semis. And again in the finals. I was like his warm-up act. It got to be very nettling. I don’t think scrambling the names at each stage would be bad.

That said, order-wise, Mark Fuller is finishing off in the clean-up slot with what I think will be the strongest program. Interestingly (to me anyway), the order is the reverse of my Jimmy The Greek odds list.

The hall is only sparsely filled; I’m a little disappointed, but perhaps more are on the way, or just outside bending their elbows…

— MH

OK. If you agree with my horse sense on programming, a plausible finishing scenario will be:

1: Fuller: Rorem/Barber
2: Levin: Schumann; Mays: Beethoven/Liszt
3: Iisaka: Alkan
4: Delbeau: Gluck/Liszt/Schubert
5: Griffith: Bach/Mozart/Ravel

Of course, you don’t bet on the horse. So let’s talk about jockeys.

The main objective of the jury at this point is to pick the top three. All these men will play absolutely beautifully, and all will have astonishing depth and something to say. Of course, anything can happen at this level, and there may be program changes. And ties are likely given how different the repertoire and styles are. They’re simply not comparable. And yet that’s what the jury will do.

I have only heard the semifinal programs (none of the prelims), so that’s really all I can go on. But I was most impressed with Slava Levin’s luscious and sensitive Scriabin, and Mark Fuller’s extraordinary Prokofiev 4th. Here, though, I think Slava is in a more emotionally and technically restrained place with Schumann, whereas Mark’s program is more ambitious and likely to be much more invigorating. Slava is a lapsed professional pianist (Moscow Conservatory) but has been out of the racket for 15 years. There’s something powerful about coming back to your first love after such a long separation, and this is a far more interesting and unusual concert situation than any professional gig. Mark, whom I have not yet met, has been battling lymphoma for the last few years. It is hard for me to imagine anything healthier, or any better reason for living, than to have the chance to fully express one’s self through music. His Prokofiev was stunning. I wonder how his playing will ignite in this program? This has the makings of a truly exceptional performance.

Drew Mays and Ken Iisaka are certainly apples and oranges. I’m sure that Ken’s effervescent personality and joie-de-vivre will come bubbling through this nutty Alkan piece. I love his spirit. I was impressed with Drew’s Beethoven and Schumann in the semis, although he was a bit restrained. If he’s not afraid to really open up, the Waldstein and Liszt’s “Mephisto” waltz could be very exciting.

Henri has a beautiful sound and musical sense. If he really gets himself fired up, he could certainly earn one of the top three places. But I fear the competition will be pretty stiff.

I had a somewhat cool reaction to Clark Griffith. His playing was eloquent and polished, as befits a Curtis-trained composer/pianist, but it didn’t really speak to me. And as I’ve noted, I think on the face of it, his final round program choices aren’t likely to win, place or show. I’m interested to hear how he’s arranged the g minor Bach fugue, and wondering if he’ll make some program changes at the 11th hour. I’ve no doubt he’ll play wonderfully. He’ll need to give it all.

Enough idle speculation for one morning. The competition is over as far as I’m concerned. There’s gorgeous music to savor in all of the programs, and each of these musicians will be wonderfully and beautifully unique.

Conveniently, the Worthington Hotel has lost nearly all of my clothes. I can improvise at the piano, but coming up with a clean pair of briefs on short notice… If I seem to be sort of wearing a tux, you’ll know why.

Looking forward.

— Mike

If you’re riding in the Kentucky Derby, you probably don’t want the old Clydesdale pulling a beer truck. Nope. You want Secretariat.

OK. Let’s forget about the jockeys for a moment. Let’s just think for a moment about the final round program choices.

The basic rule of thumb is simple: always to play something you truly love — something you can pour your heart into, plunge into with body and soul. But let’s face it: if you’re playing selected piano works of John Cage, you’re just not going to leave with the cowboy hat. No winner of this competition has ever not earned an enthusiastic standing ovation, and there are plenty of pieces that just won’t get that for you. Even the Liszt sonata, which has immense emotional high points and contains wonderful poetic possibilities, ends with a whimper as it fades into nothingness. And it’s become such a staple that it’s a hard choice to win with. (Hey, I should know). So just for kicks, let’s rank the winningest programs.

We will hear (in vaguely alphabetical order):

Alkan: etude in g#, op39n8.
Bach: prelude & fugue; Mozart sonata; Ravel “Rigaudon”
Beethoven: Waldstein Sonata; Liszt: Mephisto Waltz
Gluck: Orpheus; Liszt: Consolation, etc; Schubert: Wanderer
Rorem: Etudes; Barber: Sonata
Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien, and Toccata.

I’d hastily rank them this way:

1: Rorem/Barber
2: Schumann + Beethoven/Liszt
3: Alkan
4: Gluck/Liszt/Schubert
5: Bach/Mozart/Ravel

From weakest to strongest, the Bach/Mozart/Ravel program is actually the Bach prelude from the Bb partita; a transcription of the g minor fugue from the violin suite; the Mozart D major sonata; and the “Rigaudon” from Ravel’s “Tombeau de Couperin.” It’s an odd jumble of pieces, and only the Bach fugue carries much emotional intensity. The Rigaudon strikes me as a sissy closer: if you’re picking from the Tombeau suite, why on earth wouldn’t you play the Toccata? Or a big piece, like the Valses Nobles, or Alborado? And of all the Mozart (which is so difficult to carry off superbly in the finals), the chipper little D major sonata seems like a somewhat thin choice. This strikes me as a peculiar and disjointed set of pieces.

The Gluck-Sgambati program details are:

Gluck-Sgambati: Melody from Orpheus
Liszt: Consolation in Db
Schubert-Liszt: Stanzas from Shakespeare
Schubert: Wanderer Fantasy

I like all these pieces, but the set doesn’t feel to me like Cliburn gold. The Sgambati transcription is a beautiful arrangement of the plaintive d minor melody from Orpheus. It’s a very pretty tune and should be a disarming way to begin. The Liszt consolation is lovely, but I wouldn’t have put it after the Sgambati. The Schubert-Liszt is sparkly but of Liszt’s many Schubert settings, this probably wouldn’t have been my first choice. And the Wanderer fantasy is certainly handsome, but I’ve always found it to be kind of long-winded. I don’t think you can win the Cliburn with it, no matter how beautifully it is played. Not a terribly edgy or captivating program in my view.

Alkan. Well, now. Here is a totally wacky wildcard. Packed into a mere, oh, 75 densely engraved pages, you’ll find more notes per dollar than banjo music. I believe it’s the first movement of a sort of concerto for piano without orchestra, embedded in a humongous set of op39 etudes by the eccentric French mystic and pianist-composer, Charles-Valentin Alkan. Liszt once said Alkan had the most perfect piano technique he’d ever heard. The quantity of notes is suicidal and it ends really loudly. Musically, however, I think it’s sort of airheaded and weird, but maybe I heard it in the wrong hands (ie, mine). On the other hand, probably nobody’s ever heard it played, so it will be a funky Cliburn premiere.

The Schumann program (Faschingsschwank, and Toccata) and the Beethoven/Liszt (Waldstein + Mephisto), are, I think, straightforward and on par. I tend to feel that bigger romantic or modern pieces are needed to win. A full plate of Schumann strikes me as a somewhat square offering, but the Carnival Scenes from Vienna is a big, rich piece, and the painfully difficult Toccata really can be impressive if you play the hell out of it and leave the piano in a pile of splinters when you’re done. My hunch is that the combination of Waldstein and Mephisto will offer a wider range of things to enjoy. Both of those pieces, though very well-known, are great fun to play. But given how familiar they are, they have to be nailed.

That leaves the Rorem/Barber. This is a handsome and daring choice, not too standard (like the Schumann or Beethoven), and all-American. I don’t know Ned Rorem’s etudes at all, but I did meet Ned Rorem once. When I was a kid at Yale, I used to “card” the door on Phyllis Curtain’s studio to practice on her Steinway. I was tossed out not once, but on three different occasions by Ned Rorem. So I figured I should at least get to know his music, and in that case, whaet with Phyllis Curtain and all, it meant songs. He’s an awfully good pianist, so I am sure the etudes will be interesting and ambitious. Barber’s sonata, composed for Vladimir Horowitz in 1949, is a majestic, romantic and virtuosic piece. I heard John Browning play it once, and was “sold.” Although it has become a modern classic, it isn’t heard that often. I think it’s a winner.

All of that said, everybody knows you bet on the jockey — not the horse. And who knows, some of these jockeys may pick different horses at the last moment.

— MH

So. You’re in the finals now. Suddenly it feels like a different event altogether. There isn’t a pianist in the world who wouldn’t be overjoyed to play, just once on one damn good day, as well as the person who will win this competition today.

If you’ve followed these competitions, you know how extraordinary the finalists always are, and how the supercharging effect of playing in the finals, the now-or-neverness, the packed house, tends to bring performances to a new level. Many of you probably remember vividly the winningest musicians and their personalities and programs over the years.

In ‘99, French numismatist Joel Holoubek delivered an awe-inspiring performance of the finale from the sonata by Henri Dutilleux: an immense blockbuster, the piece was probably unknown to nearly everyone in the audience, and he gave an unforgettable performance imbued with his own uniquely captivating rock-star presence.

In ‘00, Christopher Basso played Prokofiev 8th — I think it’s the greatest of the Prokofiev sonatas, and Chris, who is an extraordinary pianist to begin with and who had a disarmingly fresh and almost star-struck stage presence, gave the performance of a lifetime. I remember the shimmering, icy sound of his slow movement like it was yesterday.

In ‘02, audience favorite Vicki Bragin gave a beautifully balanced account of the Chopin b minor sonata. That was also the year that, dope that I am, I stupidly played myself out of contention for any future Cliburn competitions with Bernstein (Symphonic Dances from West Side Story) and Rachmaninoff-Kreisler (Liebesfreud).

In ‘04, Curtis-trained Hollywood video game music designer and porcelain collector Paul Romero showed his daunting chops with showpieces: Liszt’s sixth Soiree de Vienne, sonorous Vallée d’Obermann; and his own over the top arrangement of the Trolley Song.

The pianism will be as exciting and moving as anything you’ll ever hear. The people playing today are all astounding individuals, remarkable musicians, and each of them has something beautiful to say through their music. Their playing would be welcomed on any concert stage in the world. And the audience is prize-winning, too. Not just a full house, but an audience of superb pianists, jurors, and piano lovers: I’d venture to say that you’d never play for a more passionate and engaged audience, tuned into every nuance of every note. This is a chance to touch all of these people with something that, perhaps, they’ll all remember for the rest of their lives.

Steve brings such a kind and gracious touch to these events. He’s just introduced one of the leaders of American Airlines, a longtime sponsor of the Cliburn Foundation. He notes (finally!) how proud they are that one of their own flight attendants, Charles Chien, competed here. I think Charles has been playing here since 1999 or 2000.

Steve’s just introduced Jon Nakamatsu, who won the Cliburn 10 years ago. Jon wonders: “How do I like sitting on the jury as opposed to competing?” Short answer: “I still like it so much better.” He points out that not one performer failed to provoke a reaction — and that’s significant.

Jon noted how many players here were irked by being rejected. And replied with his own resume — the resume of a Loser(*), having lost at piano competitions over and over and over and over again, right up until being rejected from the screening audition for the Cliburn competition. With pride, Jon announced tonight that he’s forming the Jon Nakamatsu “I’m proud to be a loser” Club. Just send your application to him in courtesy of the Cliburn foundation and in six weeks, you’ll receive your rejection letter.

John Giordano is first reading the names of the semifinalists in alphabetical order…

And now, the finalists in the order of their appearance.

Clark Griffith
Henry Delbeau
Ken Iisaka
Slava Levin
Drew Mays
Mark Fuller

Hearty congratulations to all the finalists.

Play your hearts out!

— Mike

(*) This link is to Viktors Berstis’ site, and may change. See also: http://www.berstis.com/vc2007 for that snippet and many other lovely bits.

It’ll be about 40 minutes or so for the decision on finalists.

The last two performers haven’t changed my ranking. I’d whittled it down to:

Iisaka
Levin
Mays
Fuller
Perez

…

Delbeau? Maurice?

I think I’d choose Thomas Maurice for his commanding rendition of Prokofiev #7. It’ll be interesting to see how the jury averages out. Given that it’s an averaging process, perhaps that’ll favor a more balanced, polished player like Clark Griffith… Feels like a wildcard.

— Mike

Michael Moore, who has played wonderfully well over the years here, has decided to use his final program for the semifinal round. A signal? Hm.

Bach: Toccata in D, bwv912
Griffes: Barcarolle, from Fantasy Pieces, op6

Michael brings a sincerity and purity of approach to his performances. (Am I remembering him playing a big Gottschalk piece one or two Cliburns ago?) I don’t mean to sound like Joan Rivers on the red carpet, but he’s wearing a simple ivory Oxford shirt and beige pants and might just as easily be back at the office opening his bag lunch after a courtroom session. His focus is plainly on the music, which sends a message.

I adore the Bach keyboard toccatas, and this is one of the bigger ones, a bit like a mini-sonata in three movements (prelude, adagio and a gentle gigue fugue). The opening prelude is very reminiscent of the bigger D major prelude and fugue for organ (a piece many of you will know from Busoni’s transcription for piano). Michael has a particularly tender and beautifully controlled sound in the adagio, and his approach to the fugue is similarly delicate and caring. I’ve always felt it to be a much more brilliant piece, with a lot more bite, particularly in the finale.

In his brief 35 years (he was probably a victim of the Spanish flu epidemic), Charles Griffes only had time to begin to carve out a place for himself as an American impressionist, sort of our Debussy. I really don’t know this piece, but it’s a very grand and rich work. Certainly a long way from Chopin or Offenbach. Although Michael plays it with sincerity and involvement, I don’t know that he can sell this work to the judges for a berth in the finals.

— MH

Seth, a faculty member at Rockefeller University, is among the most unassuming musicians in the Cliburn Class of ‘07. True to form, he walks modestly to the piano in a black short sleeved shirt and gray trousers.

Chopin: Grande valse brilliante in a, op34n2
Chopin: Scherzo #2 in b-flat minor, op31
Ravel: Miroirs: Oiseaux Tristes

I’ve never known why the a minor waltz is called “Grande valse brilliante” as it’s neither grande nor brilliante. But it is beautiful, and Seth has a very genuine and individual way with this piece.

The famous b-flat minor scherzo is a good way to shake out nervous fingers. I think Seth will need to give a pretty daunting performance of this grand and very well-known piece in order to make the final cut.

…

I doubt Seth’s scherzo will make the grade. So it remains for him to deliver a wonderful flock of sad birds and enjoy the last notes of his Cliburn performance this year, I suspect. His Ravel is absolutely gorgeous, and medal deserving on its own.

— MH

With just two more left to play, I’m sure the jury will be roughing out the finalists right now, leaving just a little more wiggle room for the last two possibilities.

I’m pretty sure that Slava Levin, Ken Iisaka and Mark Fuller will be three of the six finalists.

I’m mostly scratching my head over Suzanna Perez, Drew Mays, Henri Delbeau, and Thomas Maurice. I’m leaving out several very capable others (Griffith, Myrick, DiMedio, Zagrosek) only because they didn’t connect with me. But they may be better fitted for this jury. It’s a toss-up. I can easily envision Suzanna in the finals, and Drew Mays as well. Hm.

Iisaka
Levin
Mays
Fuller
Perez
…

Delbeau? Maurice? or one of the next two?

It really is impossible to compare such different players.

— MH

Suzanna is a senior associate for Merrill-Lynch in SF, and I expect she’ll do a very good job with these variations:

Rachmaninoff: Variations on a Theme of Corelli, op42

She’s playing by heart in a modest, elegant brown dress.

…

We’re into the second variation now and it’s clear she won’t be dropping many notes tonight. This music is close to her heart; she plays with lyricism and character. Suzanna’s tempi are generally rather slower and more savory than we usually hear in this work.

…

We’re into the lovely variations in Db. Suzanna can certainly linger over a beautiful melody.

…

She left out the 19th variation, which nobody will miss.

Rachmaninoff himself had difficulties with this piece. He tried it many times in public and, he said, used to guide himself by audience coughs, shedding variations when the coughing went crazy.

Suzanna received a very warm ovation, with several bravos and standing fans. She’s in the hunt.

— MH

I remember Michael Brounoff well from the 2002 Cliburn where he was a semifinalist. He’s a Federal judge, about 60, and this time brings us:

Schubert: Sonata in Bb, D.960
Villa-Lobos: Ciclo Brasileiro: Plantio de Caboclo

The first movement of the Schubert sounded as sublime as can be. I like Brounoff’s sense of flow in this music.

He’s placed the score for Villa-Lobos on the piano. Any of you play this piece? I don’t know it at all. Sounds like Debussy after a mojito or two, and is quite ravishing. A gorgeous performance.

There weren’t any fireworks in this program, just gorgeous music. It’ll be an interesting call for the jury. He played beautifully.

— MH

Civil Litigator Mark Fuller brings us:

Prokofiev: Sonata #4 in c, op29

Finalist.

This beautiful sonata is not often played. Mark took a long time to let the audience settle and gather his thoughts before beginning the intense pianissimo that begins the first movement. You can tell from the first notes that he has a terrific grasp of the sounds and arresting silences, the pacing, the textures, and the moods in this piece. Beautifully paced. This is the best Prokofiev I’ve heard since Christopher Basso’s 8th sonata in 2002 [oops: 2000].

Mark has an extraordinarily low-key and modest presence on stage. I think there’s little doubt that we will be hearing more of him in the finals.

— MH

We are entering the last dinner break and have five more semifinalists remaining to play:

Fuller
Brounoff
Perez
Darst
Moore

This should be an interesting session. Mark Fuller plays Prokofiev 4th sonata, not so often heard. If he can break through the Russian ice, this could propel him into the finals (for which he’s interestingly programmed Ned Rorem’s etudes and Samuel Barber’s sonata). Brounoff is offering the Schubert B-flat and some Villa-Lobos I don’t think I know, with Ravel Valses Nobles, Rachmaninoff preludes, and some great Bartok waiting in the wings. Suzanna Perez has delivered some beautiful and memorable performances for the Cliburn in years past, and is playing the Rach-Corelli variations. She can play. I expect she’ll nail this piece, and she’s got an interesting final program as well (some preludes I don’t know by John Pozdro, the Ravel Sonatine, and the Chopin fourth ballade). Seth Darst has a beautifully focused tone: I heard him play once in New York and am delighted to see him in the semifinal round here. He’s playing a Chopin waltz, the B-flat scherzo, and Ravel’s Miroirs, with more Chopin in store for the finals. And last but not least will be Michael Moore, who was a finalist in the previous Cliburn competition. He will play Grieg and a sonata by Dussek this evening, followed by the Bach D major toccata and Charles Griffes’ fantasy pieces for the finals.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one or two of these pianists can play themselves into the finals. I know Brounoff, Perez and Moore fairly well from prior hearings and think any of them could be finalists. Fuller has picked a professional’s program, and I’ll be interested to hear him. Seth Darst has a lovely touch for Chopin; perhaps he can slay them with a more intimate, focused approach. Michael Moore’s program seems odd; I can’t say that Dussek really rings my bells, but then, Dussek was certainly a pianist of quality, and I’ve never heard a musician with Michael’s terrific talent and insight play him. I don’t offhand think Dussek will produce a standing ovation, and one or two of those are probably going to highlight a finalist. But you never know.

Thinking back over the rest, I’d expect to see Slava Levin, Ken Iisaka, possibly Mays, and at least one of Delbeau, Maurice or Griffith.

We’ll get underway in about ten minutes.

— Mike

Greg and his wife, Miho Yamada, met here. She’s not playing this year (but she is turning his pages). They live in Oklahoma. He owns his family’s glass business, which he’d like to sell.

He’s made a complete change in his program. (I wasn’t here for the prelims, but am guessing he swapped some things.)

Handel-Hofmann: Variations in d minor
Sgambati: Nenia, op18n3
Rachmaninoff-Wild: Floods of Spring

I’m afraid I don’t have the scores online for the first two pieces. You can purchase Wild’s from his website (click on “Transcriptions”).

It’s such a pleasure to hear Greg play. He puts such energy and emotion into his performances, loves getting a grand sound from the instrument, and always chooses intriguing repertoire. No doubt this year will be no exception.

I think years ago I heard an old recording of the infallible Josef Hofmann playing these classy variations. (They’re probably issued on Marston Records, a label that many of you might enjoy). Greg gives an exciting and passionate reading. In spots, this piece reminds me just a bit of Rameau’s Gavotte and Variations in a, though it’s much, much bigger and more involved.

The Sgambati sounds like a big, swarthy handful. Fortunately, Greg has big, swarthy hands.

Years ago, I heard Wild play one of his Gershwin studies in New York as an encore. I asked him afterwards about them and he sighed and said “they’re just much too hard.” Not for me. For him. For anyone. That’s probably even more true of this one. I adore Wild’s Rachmaninoff song transcriptions, and this one in particular is true to the rich and wonderful pianistic textures Rachmaninoff reveled in. This sounds like a new piece for Greg; it feels a bit labored and more sight-read than from memory. I think anyone who has heard Wild play these would sense some struggle here. As Stephen Colbert would no doubt say, Greg has Balls.

We shall see what the rest of the evening holds.

— MH

Mr. Zagrosek recently launched the Berlin amateur competition (conscripting the Berlin Phil to play a part). I’ve heard he’s a fine and intelligent pianist. Has he played here in prior competitions? I can’t quite recall. He’s a retired software engineer.

His program for us:

Beethoven: Sonata #26 in Eb, op81a — Les Adieux

You can wiki up the background, or check out the score. Beethoven was about 40 when he wrote it.

Overall, Mr. Zagrosek’s programming is meat and potatoes. Or perhaps mostly meat (Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann). He plays Beethoven in broad strokes and with an innate sense. Some of the difficult riffs in the last movement he covers like a pro…

He’s debugged this work before, having played similar repertoire in 2004 at the WIPAC competition, for instance.

A solid performance of a difficult sonata. He receives a warm ovation, but not a very vocal one.

— MH

Alabama Ophthalmologist Drew Mays isn’t just playing for the jury of gold medalists and music critics. He’s brought his boss to sit in the audience.

His program:

Beethoven: 32 variations in c minor, Woo.
Schumann: Toccata, op7.

Drew has given us a commanding performance of the Beethoven variations. He can really play. I’m not surprised to read that he studied music at the Manhattan School, and at the conservatory in Hanover, Germany. Every time I hear this piece, I think back to a master class I attended when I was a sophomore at Yale. Claude Frank came, and one of the girls who was supposed to play came down with the flu. So there was 45 minutes to kill. Claude shrugged and played the 32 variations followed by the last sonata. Unforgettable. The only thing I missed in Drew’s performance was a little extra pizzazz in the sound: more ghostly pianissimos, more ferociously manic fortissimos. I have no doubt he has plenty in reserve. His performance was terrific.

Carpal Tunnel anyone? Gawd. My tendons start throbbing every time I hear this piece. Drew really blasted through this and ended with a bang — fortissimo instead of the quiet ending Schumann marked, and why not? After all that hammering, might as well just pound in the last nail. He has gotten the biggest ovation so far (several standing).

Bravo. I have a feeling we’ll be hearing more.

— MH

Slava Levin buttonholed me during the break — he recognized me from the Cliburn webcast — and after I’d gushed to him about his sumptuous Scriabin, we had a wonderful conversation about the frustrations of being amateurs who play better (?!) than pros.

Slava mentioned that he had not played in public for fifteen years, a feeling I know all too well since I was in pretty much the same boat when I first came to Fort Worth. I suspect many of us here are. But as I’ve said elsewhere, I think this is the essence of what makes amateur performances so precious. Nerves may rattle your fingers in ways that don’t faze a seasoned pro, obviously, amateurs have to do so much more work to prepare for a rare concert than professionals do. There’s just no way around that. But it means that everyone knows how much much more intense an amateur concert needs to be, and much more rare. Sensing that specialness, I think audiences listen more attentively, and I think performers put even more into those moments.

Slava brought me up to speed on some wonderful Scriabin anecdotes. Bozhe moi!

On to the next group…

— MH