Vladimir Ovchinnikov excels in Russian masters

 

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 David Beech

 

 

The Russian pianist Vladimir Ovchinnikov brought some spectacular and authentic playing of Scriabin, Rachmaninov, and Tchaikovsky to the Steinway Society at Le Petit Trianon, San Jose on Sunday evening, April 6, 2008. In an exciting but strangely uneven recital, we seemed to hear three different pianists for the price of one.

 

Beginning with the only non-Russian work in the program, Schubert’s “short A major” Sonata, D.664 or Op.120, Ovchinnikov took the opening Allegro moderato very slowly and with unnatural rubato, although with warm tone and delicacy, and with a song-like melody floating over a soft accompaniment. However, the forte octaves were not fluent, and there were a few unexpected notes. The slow movement went better, with a sustained mood, and beautifully placed final chords, leading to a rippling account of the finale at a fast tempo. The descending scales were delightfully expressive, and the legato melody over staccato left hand was ideally presented. Another promising sign was the musical understanding of Schubert’s pianistic flourishes, transcending the mechanics of the notes used to achieve the effects.

 

As soon as Ovchinnikov launched into Scriabin’s 5^th Sonata, Op.53, we heard his second incarnation, confident and virtuosic, the pianist who was a top prizewinner in the 1980s at the Tchaikovsky and Leeds competitions. There was great zip up to sf notes in the introduction, followed by extreme languor and dreaminess. The work, in a single movement, alternates between these moods, with a new, stabbing idea introducing some loud sections, and thunderous climaxes threatening to deafen us. Even Horowitz could sound clangorous in these sections, so we probably have to accept this as what Scriabin intended, and Ovchinnikov avoided going over the top, by means of crisp articulation of the melodic lines and some deft pedaling. Authoritative in the most demanding passages, including a huge chromatic outburst, he relaxed instantly into the stillness of the dreamy moods, before producing a dazzling conclusion with a zip up to the final note to match that of the introduction.

 

The chosen first four of Rachmaninov’s Moments Musicaux, Op.16, were equally compelling. Structurally, they even resemble the outline of a rather gloomy sonata, with a scherzo-like second movement, and the slow movement coming third, but all movements being in minor keys. Although Rachmaninov is reputed to have written these pieces mainly to supplement his income, they exhibit his extraordinary ability to express emotion and hold the interest while organically developing very simple, mostly stepwise and meandering, melodic material. The first piece began with Ovchinnikov reveling in the gentle two-against-three melody, leading to a delicious cadenza, and a ­con moto section over fluid and shapely groups of six notes. This was a nice warm up for the second piece, a rapid perpetuum mobile in triplets, which Ovchinnikov dispatched effortlessly, with a nice ending. The somber slow movement was rich and moving, turning explicitly funereal when the staccato bass octaves appeared in the accompaniment, and Ovchinnikov completed the set with commanding virtuosity in the presto finale.

 

After the intermission, we were introduced to a Mazurka, Polka, and Tarantella by Nikolai Rubinstein, younger brother of the more celebrated Anton. Nikolai’s main claims to fame are that he founded the Moscow Conservatory in 1866, and that he was highly regarded by Tchaikovsky, who wrote his first piano concerto for him – however, Rubinstein then refused to play it unless it was altered, which Tchaikovsky declined to do. Nevertheless, after Nikolai’s death, Tchaikovsky wrote his gorgeous and lengthy Piano Trio and dedicated it to him, “In Memory of a Great Artist”. In the three pieces that Ovchinnikov had chosen, we heard pianist number three, playing with an unvaried and heavy-handed hard tone. The Tarantella was much the best of the pieces, prestissimo with spirited triplets, but overall one couldn’t help wondering whether professors at the Moscow Conservatory dutifully programmed these pieces in homage to their founder.

 

Unfortunately, this style of playing carried over into the louder parts of Prokofiev’s own reduction of movements from his Cinderella ballet. There was lovely warmth with a slow pulse in the Valse Lente, and an affecting quiet pas de deux Cinderella and the Prince, but the finale was very noisy.

 

So it was remarkable that the superb pianist number two reemerged for Percy Grainger’s transcription of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker ballet, when we had feared that Grainger might have written one of his jaunty instructions such as “Louden lots”. Instead, we heard a tasteful arrangement, played with subtlety and great beauty in the familiar waltz theme itself, and with any echoes of Grainger’s Country Gardens quickly replaced by more Lisztian decorations. All the light and shade in Ovchinnikov’s touch had returned, together with his love of the music.

 

For his encores, Ovchinnikov happily gave us more Rachmaninov with the drowsy, summery Lilacs ( to hear Rachmaninov playing this, visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftD3yLAUexk ), and the witty Polka de W.R. ( for some Horowitz magic, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbF1HblkHFo ). Ovchinnikov achieved every pianist’s goal, departing with his bouquet and leaving an audience wanting to hear him again.

  [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.]

 

 

 

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