Here are some thoughts about some of the music that I play. It’s not an exhaustive repertoire list, just reflections on some of the music and composers that have been most important to me. Note that I don’t consider myself a specialist in any composer or kind of music. If I choose to play a piece, it’s because I love it and because I think that I can do it justice. I specialize in, and love most, that which I’m playing at the moment, and to me it wouldn’t be honest to go on stage not believing in my comprehension of and ability to play whatever music is on the program.
The Chopin Preludes: the latest big addition to my repertoire, this is certainly one of the most challenging and fulfilling works that a pianist can play or that an audience can listen to. There is everything in here – passion, lyricism, terror, tenderness, virtuoso brilliance and much more – twenty-four unique pieces all linked in a nearly-perfect structural whole. This is like living a lifetime in 45 minutes.
More Chopin: it’s not an original idea, but that doesn’t make it less true: Chopin’s music is one of the summits of the piano repertoire. I think that this is one case where popularity is a just measure of worth, and in my experience Chopin’s seems to be the most universally loved piano music. It’s not easy to say why, but I would guess that, in a deep way, there is a pleasing balance between complexity (melodic, harmonic, structural, etc.) and simplicity (between romantic and classic?). That, and it’s usually inspired and beautiful. Some of his music is just pure pleasure for me to perform (generally the smaller pieces – Mazurkas, Nocturnes, Waltzes, etc., but also the Fantasy and some Polonaises), whereas the longer pieces like the Ballades and the Barcarolle are much more of a dramatic challenge – but very well worth it!
Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue: I’ve played the solo version too often to remember and the concerto version only once. I used to play this by ear when I was a kid, and it remains an enormous pleasure. I feel extremely free with it, and it’s always nice to have a sure-fire hit at the end of a concert.
Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition: After a several-year hiatus, I’ve been performing this great piece again recently. I don’t think that there is any feeling quite like arriving, after forty minutes or so of varied, but often dark and even terrifying, music (e.g. Baba Jaga the witch’s flying hut on chicken feet!), at the Great Gate of Kiev. Noble, luminous - as I write this I think that maybe it’s the composer’s welcome into paradise of his friend Hartmann, whose pictures inspired and in whose memory he wrote the piece.
Rachmaninoff: I often play a selection of preludes, used to perform the Chopin Variations, have on two or three occasions played the Paganini Rhapsody, and have studied various other works (including some of the wonderful songs). From my perspective, playing Rachmaninoff demands lots of preparation (it is often furiously difficult in technical and contrapuntal ways) and doesn’t leave much room for interpretive liberty. Yet the emotions and energies are often extreme. So difficult to learn, but once it’s mastered it often plays itself, and fills the soul.
Schubert: I’ve recently been playing the Moments Musicaux, and have played several sonatas, impromptus, and chamber music. And I recently played Winterreise, the great cycle of twenty-four songs. I feel that Schubert comes as close to what I would call pure music as anybody. His music is mostly about melody – singable, memorable melody – and often significant and stirring harmonies. Under his hand, the simplest musical ideas become magic and reveal their elemental profundity.
Brahms: I used to say, when pushed, that he was my favorite composer. Recently I haven’t been playing much Brahms, but in the past I’ve played lots of his solo and chamber music. I’ll never forget hearing Daniel Barenboim play the First Concerto. The tempo was always in flux, which, to my ears, felt totally organic and natural. I believe that this is often necessary with Brahms, although I would be hard-pressed to explain why. It’s interesting that, compared to Brahms, Rachmaninoff seems to have the romantico-passion meter amped up by several orders of magnitude, yet the interpretation of Brahms often needs to be freer than that of Rachmaninoff. However, music ultimately remains a mystery, and I have heard performances of pieces that were contrary to my tastes – and even what I think of as my principles – that were extremely satisfying to me. A few years ago I started playing the Brahms Waltzes – such wonderful music, as poignant and inspired as anything he’s written. How come they are almost never programmed?
The Korngold Concerto: This is quite an experience. I had never played left-hand alone repertoire, and this concerto is perhaps the biggest of them all in the genre. Ravel-like in its contrapuntal demands for one hand, Richard Strauss-like in its glittering orchestration, I didn’t know until after I first played it in Aix-en-Provence that it was the French premiere of this major work. Now I’ve played it twice and hope to have other opportunities to perform it.
The Grieg Concerto: As beautiful and romantic a piece as can be. This is music that is meant to be milked, but that is not to say that it’s cheesy in any way. It’s not. This is real romanticism, and if it’s not to your taste, I’m happy to leave you to your harpsichord and dry toast – I’ll stay with my Grieg!!
Debussy: Another personal favorite, and a composer who I think is too often eviscerated. He can take us to a rarified world (as well as a humorous one), but too often, amidst the incredible harmonies, the humanity is lost. I feel that his music is as deeply human as Brahms or Schubert and that it must be played that way. I love playing the Preludes, Etudes, and other music such as Images, Estampes, etc.
Schumann: One of the composers whose music (with a few exceptions) just always seemed to come easily to me, both technically and musically. Although I’ve played my share of his music, (Carnaval, Kinderszenen, the Second Sonata, Fantasy, Fantasiestücke, Symphonic Etudes, among others), one work that I dream of performing is Dichterliebe, which is one of the most beautiful and moving pieces there is, a song cycle where the piano is as much a melodic presence as is the voice.
Janacek: I’ve only played On an Overgrown Path, a Schumann-like suite of pieces. Perhaps it’s the intimate quality of this music that makes me feel a special relationship to it, or the fact that, even with the Janacek revival of recent years, these pieces are rarely performed; in any case, I do feel that this is very personal music that speaks to the intimate, child-like parts of each of us. Wonderful! Should be heard – and I would like to play – more.
Mozart: One vivid memory is having played the “Little” A Major Concerto accompanied by a string quartet in a festival in Marrakech. I had written my own cadenzas and, in the last movement, left room for some sort of crazy improvisation. A day or two before the concert we had heard a well-known traditional Moroccan melody, and I thought that it would be great if we could incorporate it into the cadenza. So I decided that my improvisation would lead into the quartet – standing up – playing this melody. The crowd exploded!!! They were cheering as though we had hit a home run, and we could barely hear ourselves. A once-in-a-lifetime moment. Unfortunately I don’t play as much Mozart as I would like to – the sonatas are really not up to the level of his best work, and I haven’t yet had the opportunity to play more of the concertos in concert.
