Arts & Events

In reviewing Daniil Trifonov’s exciting performance last spring of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, I wrote that Trifonov played like a man with his hair on fire. Now, playing Rachmaninoff’s much less frequently heard Piano Concerto No. 4 in G minor, Daniil Trifonov offered a performance full of his usual intensity yet one that brought out in exquisite detail Rachmaninoff’s late style. This concerto’s middle movement, a Largo, was a lyrical masterpiece in Trifonov’s hands. His piano opens this movement with an exquisite phrase, which is immediately picked up by the strings. Then Trifonov plays Rachmaninoff’s simple embellishment of this theme, followed again by the strings, and so on. The theme itself is forever changing registers and colours, offering ever new harmonizations. Some find this Largo’s main theme brooding, but I find it hauntingly beautiful.  

There is indeed something new in Rachmaninoff’s late style of concerto writing. Earlier, his piano concertos were all piano-driven. The orchestra was given short shrift as a mere accompanist. Writing about his Third Piano Concerto, Rachmaninoff stated that he wanted the piano to “sing,” and that he sought a “suitable orchestral accompaniment, or rather one that would not muffle this singing.” Now, however, in his Fourth Piano Concerto, Rachmaninoff makes the orchestra a true partner with the solo pianist. So much so, in fact, that Rachmaninoff had misgivings, writing that here, the orchestra “is almost never silent, which I regard as a great sin. This means that it’s not a concerto for piano, but a concerto for piano and orchestra.” In this San Francisco Symphony performance, conductor Michael Tilson Thomas did a fine job of allowing the orchestra to effectively partner Daniil Trifonov as piano soloist, while never dominating the proceedings.  

Bookending the middle movement are two Allegros. The opening movement features a melody borrowed by Rachmaninoff from an Etude-Tableau of 1911 that he never published. Here it is a grand melody introduced by the piano. A second theme is introduced, lyrical and even whimsical. When the first theme reappears in the recapitulation, it is heard in high violins with support from the woodwinds and rapid arpeggios from the piano. The English horn offers a sudden wail, but the first movement comes quickly to an end.  

The third and final movement opens in almost whimsical fashion with a brief phrase from the piano. Then begins a propulsive romp that presents enormous technical difficulties for the pianist. Needless to say, Daniil Trifonov’s awesome technical prowess was more than up to meeting and transcending the difficulties. Here, in this finale, we recognise what Martha Argerich noted when she first heard Trifonov play in Carnegie Hall: Trifonov combines formidable technique with an element of the demonic in his playing. Along with Martha Argerich we can only agree that “we have never heard anything quite like that before.” Daniil Trifonov, now aged 27, only gets better and better, if that’s possible. I can’t wait to hear him again and again. 

For what little it was worth, the opening work at the Thursday, September 19 matinee I attended at Davies Hall was a newly commissioned piece by John Adams, “I Still Dance.” Only 8 minutes in length, “I Still Dance” seems to go on forever, beating away relentlessly in irritating mannerism. A friend from Island City Opera who happened to sit in front of me said “I Still Dance” sounded to her like popcorn popping innocuously in a microwave. In a pre-concert dialogue with Sarah Cahill, John Adams called “I Still Dance” “a toccata with a disco beat.” Suffice it to say that it’s heavy on percussion. Like so much of Adams’ work, this is a throwaway piece.  

Why do I call it a throwaway piece, you might ask? Because you never need to hear it a second time. What little there is in this music is there on the glib surface. There’s simply no depth that a second hearing would reveal. You simply hear it once and that’s it, you throw it away. If disposable music is your thing, this is it. But like the disposable plastic water bottles that clutter our ocean waves, John Adams’ throwaway music clutters our sound waves. 

Since I bought a ticket with my own money for this concert, the press tickets having been fully allocated when I requested mine two weeks before the concert, I didn’t feel obliged to stay after intermission for Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major. I came to hear Daniil Trifonov, and I was happy to make my exit with Trifonov’s performance still ringing splendidly in my mind.