Robert Schwartz Returns to Triumph!
by
David Beech
The Steinway Society
audience was treated to an exemplary recital by Robert Schwartz on Sunday
evening, January 27, 2008 at Le Petit Trianon, San Jose. Schwartz, now on the
piano faculty at Mills College in Oakland, repeated his triumph of four seasons
ago when he had played a program of French music, applying the same qualities of
musical insight and sensitive, colorful, brilliant pianism to a more diverse
repertoire of Schubert, Prokofiev and Albéniz. Kudos also to the piano
technician, not named in the program, who has given the Society’s Steinway D an
ideal voicing for the hall.
Schubert’s B minor Sonata,
D.575, is rarely heard in recital, but the clarity of Schwartz’s playing made it
easy to appreciate the structure and to follow the frequent modulations. Right
from the start, there was a beautiful color in the introduction, and precision
in the dotted rhythms which play an important role throughout this work. Within
the first two lines, the dynamics range between ff and less than pp,
and the initial B major swerves violently via C major into G major where it
settles into the first of many beguiling melodies. Already it was clear that
Schwartz had the gifts of portraying Schubertian drama without it sounding
crude, of avoiding over-emphasis of accompanying figures, and of spinning out
songful lines as though the piano were not a percussion instrument. There
followed other themes in E major and F sharp major, and Schwartz observed the
repeat of the exposition, which was welcome since this is by no means a long
sonata by Schubert’s standards, and it also gave us an opportunity to notice the
pianist’s relatively low wrist position and long fingers with which he achieves
seemingly effortless subtlety. The short development has a little double-dotted
excitement that is soothed away before the recapitulation which brings the whole
exposition down a fifth, as though all the tunes were second subjects, with the
ingenious result that the last theme is in the tonic of B major and the movement
ends very softly and peacefully, its work done. The slow movement has a
tastefully enlivened hymn-like tune for its outer sections, and an impressive
storm in a teacup in the center, where Schwartz captured the passion without
harshness, and relaxed into an especially felicitous trill as the storm
subsided. His attentive ear was nowhere more in evidence than in the balance of
the final E major chord. The scherzo had delightful light and shade, with a
surprise modulation to B flat for its second strain, and the trio had a flowing
accompaniment reminiscent of Gretchen at her spinning wheel. The 3/8
sonata-rondo finale had a nice bounce, straying into an innocent G major for a
while, before deciding not to outstay its welcome, and recalling that it should
be heading for a triumphant B major conclusion.This was a very satisfying
performance, and made one hope to hear Schwartz play the posthumous sonatas, or
indeed anything else by Schubert that he chose.
Prokofiev’s 4th
Sonata, Op.29. in C minor was completed in 1917, happily existing in a world
independent of the Russian Revolution. Just as with the Schubert, Schwartz gave
this relatively unfamiliar work a delightful airing, offering Prokofiev’s
“wrong-note neo-classicism” with a supple rhythm, warm tone, and delight in the
dissonances. The sonata form of the first movement was clearly presented,
beginning with the elusive pulse of two-beat phrases across the three-beat bar
lines, and building via grace notes and more elaborate arabesques to a confident
climax in the relative major of E flat. The development of all these ideas was
fascinating, leading to an even bigger climax, and a quiet bridge to the C minor
recapitulation which proceeded in best classical style, except for the two pairs
of ff chords at the end, spiced with semitone dissonances. As Schwartz
pointed out in his helpful and entertaining verbal introduction, the second
movement has much in common with the Bydlo movement, conjuring up the old
ox-cart, in Mussorgsky’s Pictures from an Exhibition. Prokofiev uses trudging
thirds in the bass to accompany a slow fugue, and the whole long span of the
movement was beautifully captured, with increasingly elaborate decorations and
increasing volume, interrupted by a gentle middle section. Then comes a tranquil
ending in which the gentle tune is played above the fugue theme until only the
trudging thirds survive. The finale is a romp with the unusual marking of
Allegro con brio, ma non leggiero (not lightly!), and fortunately we were
given a gloriously spirited interpretation without being deafened. The rapid
scales zip up to the first note of the melody like glissandi, but have to
be fingered because their later incarnations are on a mixture of black and white
notes. The bounding two-step gives way to a child-like dolce middle
section, before returning in virtuosic form in a dazzling drive to the final
deception of resounding C octaves in the bass being followed by the shock of an
ff chord that is simultaneously in C major and C minor, with B natural
added for good measure. The playing of this work had shown us the enfant
terrible side of Prokofiev, and his dashing pianism, together with the
seriousness and tenderness of which he was capable.
The program concluded with
five of the twelve pieces from Albéniz’s magnum opus, “Iberia”. All five
were in either 3/4 or 6/8 rhythm, reminiscent perhaps of Chopin’s Mazurkas in
their imaginative variety within a limited compass of rhythmic and decorative
devices. In fact, Albéniz is very sparing in the general outline of his
melodies, using mainly stepwise arches, and repeated notes, with hesitations and
triplet pickups as decorations, and yet he holds the attention with a
combination of emotional expression, subtle variation, and highly ambitious and
accomplished writing for the keyboard. Hence it was no surprise that Robert
Schwartz had accepted the challenge (presented, he said, by a pupil) to play
this music, so well suited to his strengths. The opening Evocación (one
of only a few works written in A flat minor - seven flats!) began with a rich
and remarkable guitar timbre, and flowed smoothly and quietly, until rising from
ppp to a brief fff outburst. Thereafter it was a wonderfully
expressive couple of pages of pppp, even calling for ppppp at one
point. The second selection, Rondeña, was a lively dance with alternating
bars of 6/8 and 3/4 time, and Schwartz made the most of the contrasting middle
section with its tenor melody of repeated notes and triplet flourish, and
brought off the light 6/8 coda and the last two staccato chords delightfully.
Málaga was notable for the strikingly clear and bright melodies over a
shifting harmonic palette and for another rich tenor melody with repeated notes
tugging at the heartstrings, before the rousing climax. The nonchalant 6/8
required by the composer throughout Almería came as second nature to
Schwartz, even where the music is written on three staves, and he kept the music
singing even when very soft. Triana provided a vivid bravura apotheosis,
with spiky rhythms and dissonances, an affecting interlude, and a stormy finish.
After a prolonged standing
ovation, Schwartz played as an encore Debussy’s prelude
Les Collines d’Anacapri with crisp
and sensitive characterization, ending with those loud and very high notes that
may have been the starting point for Messiaen’s extensive use of the extremes of
the keyboard. But the choice of encore may have been to suggest some affinities
between Albéniz and Debussy (two years his junior), such as the melodic arches
and repeated notes in this prelude. As a footnote, we can look forward to a CD
of Schwartz playing French music early in 2008.
Let us hope that we will not
have to wait so long to hear Robert Schwartz at the Steinway Society again, and
that he will record more CDs to bridge the gap.
[David Beech, an amateur clarinetist, pianist and clavichordist, and a
music lover of broad experience and taste, is a frequent contributor as
a guest reviewer in this column.]
