Natacha Kudritskaya entered the stage wearing gray sweat pants, Converse sneakers, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt
with, as we could later tell, two fairy wings imprinted on the back. She sat down at the piano and silently worshiped it for a few piercing moments before taking off on a whirlwind musical trip of emotion and fervor. Although a few trills were lost in the beginning of the Schubert -- perhaps due to nerves or the lack of a fully sufficient sacrifice to the god of music-- the rest of the performance was riveting, demonstrating a passion for the instrument and tempered delight in its dynamic extremes. Kudritskaya elicited a standing ovation at the end, but demurred an encore.The second performance, Yue Chu, supplied a rather different musical experience. Clearly a technical ge
nius, Chu scarcely fumbled a single note: refer especially to the three-minute movement within the Mahler piece which occurs 48 minutes into his audio recording (you will notice that this piece is followed by a rare outburst of spontaneous applause, usually occuring only at the end of each section). His nimble fingers effortlessly danced across the keys, displaying his absolute command over the instrument. Especially notable was his skilled accompaniment of the contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux: he followed her lead with attentiveness and respect, and the pair seemed as though they were a practiced duo.But Natacha's raw emotion and pure dynamicism were lacking in Chu's performance, particularly in the Beethoven. Although Yue may be the one to cut the records, Natacha spins the musical magic which one hopes for in a live performance.
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9 comments:
If there were more sweat pants at classical concerts I'm sure I'd go more often. Though Lord knows we need more excuses to dress up.
What I love about most classical performances is the silence. Although it gets pushed to extremes.
I heard a girl play Rachmaninov in the basement of the Alliance church in Beaverlodge once. One of the better musical moments of my life. No one was paying attention and she just casually banged it out, with lots of mistakes.
...was that me?
Maybe it was. Did we talk about this already?
My memory is SO bad.
No, we haven't talked about it. I just know that in high school, I very likely played clumsy Rachmaninoff in the basement of the Beaverlodge Alliance. I'll just choose to believe you're talking about me, then.
Oh, and yeah, the silence at concerts is great - I especially love places in the music with very sparse melody, so that it is almost total silence, but not. Those moments are haunting.
Sometimes taken to extremes, yes.
dyd mye comment not poste?
Rev. of "Rev. of: classical music heaven"
Yue Chu's outfit elicited no description for this reviewer, whose silence on the matter directly signifies that it was "nothing remarkable". He was dressed as any other pianist would be.
The review as a whole must clearly be read as a discourse not so much on the empirical content of a factual event, but, taking flight from the groudn of said event, as a metaphysical depiction of this ineliminable modern an ancient dichotomy of reason & passion.
As the reviewer sets out the contrasts, it is clear where her lot has been cast, and compellingly so. The first pianist distinguishes herself by ignoring convention and unleashing passion, albeit with a technical falter. The latter, furthermore, is redeemed not merely through an allusion to excusable human fallibility, but additionally by a momentary detour into pagan spiritually, whereby the reviewer muses on her hypothetical pagan engagement with "the god of music", evoking not only mystery, but also a compelling irrationality in the form of occult spiritual practice.
The reviewer does make sure to give the second performer his due, denoting the full extent of his virtuousity and mastery of his mustic, (which at one point provokes spontaneous applause!) However, the reviewer, in her fourth paragraph, concludes from all of this that his perfection amounts to a kind of soullessness; that his virtuosity has become that of a machine. Furthermore, his implied conformity to convention (he was wearing his tux, wasn't he?), in contrast to the (indeed!) "fairy-wings" of the other contestant, leaves the reader sense a dearth of imagination in the case of the former, such as to forever bar him from the higher worlds of the spirit in music.
By no means are we to distrust the reviewer's account, imagining that she has unfairly defamed the second contestant through her appeal to a ready-made dichotomy working questionable machinations through her sub-conscious. She does not come across as one whose passion responds to prejudices rather than to authenticity. We may trust, indeed, that the love she has born for classical music from a very young age has developed organically to an exceptional emotional refinement, with which many of us would be in accord.
However, when we see this dichotomy so effortlessly take hold of whatever given empirical event fascinates the human mind, we have reason to be very il-at-ease with our minds. We must ask, again, is this very opposition an illusion, an historical framework that dictates our thoughts (and therefore lives)? Or is it merely true that somewhere, outside of the excellence of reason and intelligibility, there blows the dreadful winds of gods, whose kiss and knife will strike forthwith to the the ready human heart?
And is it not a strange statistic that no one who faces this debate would cast their lot on the side of a prosaic rational excellence. Yea, No.2's only possible redemption lies in a counter-review, in which the reviewer would have found his performance the bear the greatest emotional depth. Why then, is this debate so easily won? Why then, is it yet debated? Why, now, is there yet a world where some carry the fire of passion, and others reflect the light of order? And where can either of these lead us? for people rarely seem to go one way or the other!
The question is not new to us; the conflict, as I have said, ineliminable. That is why Nietzsche's hypothetical religion features the two gods, Apollo and Dionysus, both essential and at odds.
Alas, I only bring this up because I weary of them both, and would be rid of them, could only I split myself in two, and lay myself on each of their altars. I sometimes long for the bricks and splinters of a materialist's world.
Oh my Lord, TOM.
That last paragraph nearly brought me to tears.
I may have more to say after I begin to digest your genius. Right now, suffice it to: this reviewer is honoured to be the subject of such a distinguished reviewer as yourself.
Thank you for such affirmation!
I need to add something to the bottom, as follows:
"Discuss".
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