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VOLUME XLIII * No. 167 * Autumn 2002
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VOLUME XLIII * No. 167 * Autumn 2002

Highlights

Kristóf Csengery

L'Allegro, Il Penseroso and
Il Moderato

The Pianists Zoltán Kocsis, Dezsô Ránki and András Schiff

 

...

Influences and examples

What was the playing of the three pianists like thirty years ago, in the early seventies? Listening to their LPs and radio recordings, one can detect both the common features and the differences-the former being perhaps more numerous. First of all, there was a new instrumental standard: the insistence on flawless execution that was ignored in earlier decades that emphasised inspired musicality and the poetry of playing instead. The playing of young Kocsis and young Ránki is clearly interreferential in this regard. Schiff's instrumental performance was also up to the strictest standards, but it was not characterised by inappealable perfection, the hallmark of the concerts of Kocsis and Ránki for many years. Peculiarly (and quite understandably) Schiff stepped over his shadow in terms of instrumental technique, when he had done so musically: it is hardly an exaggeration to say that in the years after leaving Hungary, Schiff underwent a metamorphosis when placed in a real competitive situation. The eternal third man back in Hungary turned into one of the (if not the) most original musicians in that international pool of pianists which is capable of peak performances both musically and instrumentally on every occasion.
There were other common features in the playing of the three pianists, apart from high technical standards, already in the '70s. These included the ideal of a bell-like clarity; the cult of the plasticity of melodic lines; the drive to give transparency to the sound and the related polyphonic approach which tends to interpret every work as a system of independently moving parts; a flair for sharp accents; the recognition of the importance of structural articulation; the multitude of unusual tempi often contrary to tradition. In short, they aimed at originality, at reinterpreting old scores with a fresh eye. Some people had the impression at that time-and many more now in retrospect-that all this often resulted in an overstrained, nervous flickery and mechanical piano music. At that time, how-ever, it had revolutionary significance: it brought something radically new and electrifying after the inarticulation, drabness and romantic sentimentality of the mainstream of piano playing. These features always applied most pregnantly-sometimes excessively-to Kocsis, while Ránki's moderation and a classic sense of balance had largely modified and polished them even in his early period. In this respect, Schiff was closer to Kocsis: Ránki's attack and piano tone was more peaceful and apparently more traditional than Schiff's.
The question arises as to what may underlie this assertive manner of playing and ideal sound, and what influence the three musicians were elaborating in those years. Obviously, the strongest influence was that of Glenn Gould, whose impact was powerful on Kocsis and Schiff; Ránki's performance was more strongly and intricately influenced by pianists such as Sviatoslav Richter and Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli. (By a twist of fate, it was not Ránki-who is one of Richter's most devoted admirers and who collects all his available records-but Kocsis who had an opportunity to perform chamber music with the master in 1977, although his personality is far less compatible with Richter's than is Ránki's.) Through Kocsis's mediation, Gould became all but a cult figure among Hungarian musicians (had it not been for Kocsis as catalyst, he would never have exerted such a strong influence on Hungarian musical culture). Kocsis, who nearly expropriated the discovery of Gould for himself in the Hungarian mass media, was considered for a long time as the disciple and heir to Gould. No doubt this opinion was justified at that time by both his instrumental perfection and musical radicalism, as well as the non-conformism and versality of his personality ...

At home or abroad?

When it comes to artists of the stature of Kocsis, Ránki or Schiff, the question evidently arises: which is the ideal setting for their career? Being familiar with Zoltán Kocsis's personality, one may rightly declare-however astonishing it may sound-that despite the international dimensions of his activities, his is a typical Central European, even specifically Hungarian, character on account of his explosive and contradictory traits, his involvement in public life and his foundness for facing challenges. That Kocsis, living in Budapest, has managed to become a musician of international reputation with concerts in the major cities of the world and an exclusive contract with Philips, is owed both to his extraordinary qualities and to good luck, since Ránki has failed to achieve similar success.
Ránki also tours the world, his records also come out on leading labels, yet he is not "seeded" as high as Kocsis. Many justly object, that Ránki never had such ambitions. It is, however, thought provoking that the monumental series of Philips Classics released in 1998/99-the Great Pianists of the 20th Century- contains discs by Kocsis and Schiff, but none by Ránki. (Apart from them, another two Hungarian pianists-Géza Anda and György Cziffra-are included; typically, two pianists who left their country and made their careers abroad. It is also typical that Annie Fischer, who had an international reputation in her time but remained in Hungary is, like Ránki, absent.)
If Kocsis can be described as a typical Hungarian musician, András Schiff's nature, mentality and artistic affinities all back his international character. Schiff is a born cosmopolitan; he is made that by his buoyancy and flexibility, independence and liberalism. The restrictions in socialist Hungary shackled him, and though the questions like "what would have happened, if...?" do not make sense, one may presume that even the intellectual climate of a democratic Hungary would also have been too stifling for Schiff. Startling as it may sound, Schiff was not a significant artist while he lived in Hungary-probably because an extremely sensitive musician like him was mentally paralysed by the restricted horizons. Having left the country, he underwent astonishing developement, converting into someone quite different, stepping over his own shadow. This he clearly owed to the incentives and inspiring experiences gained in a new, more spacious and liberated Lebensraum. Since 1986 Schiff has carefully nursed his contacts with the Hungarian public: he returns several times a year and his Budapest recitals always include major works. As for Hungarian audiences: the love and respect that envelopes Schiff at his guest performances is incomparable.

The recent past

In the 2001/2001 season, Budapest audiences had the opportunity to hear Kocsis, Schiff and Ránki on several occasions. Kocsis evidently concentrated on his orchestra, which after their debut in 2000/2001, played strengthened and at an evenly high standard under his baton. Kocsis brought with him from the Festival Orchestra to the Philharmony a programme policy aimed at enriching the repertory with specialities, throwing light on forgotten works and extending the audience's horizon with rarities. In the past season this exploratory programme planning added curiosities to the French and Slavic repertories (Bizet, Debussy, Ravel, Roussel, Dukas, Dvorák, Rachmaninov, Prokofiev). Kocsis held a charity concert on May 30th, his birthday-the 50th. It was not a solo recital this time: he played with the ingenious cellist Miklós Perényi at first, then he performed a single solo piece (Beethoven: Sonata in C sharp minor, op.27/2), and after the interval he featured first as conductor and then as the soloist of a concerto.
Schiff's major feat in the 2001/2002 season was the above-mentioned series of recitals, Chopin and his Models. He confronted the works of the Polish romantic composer with works by Bach, Scarlatti and Mozart, pointing out to receptive listeners the influences, analogies and, hidden connections. This cycle was notable for its choice of instruments. Schiff performed the Chopin works in the second part of his recitals on a renovated period Pleyel piano. Budapest music-lovers are eagerly awaiting the next cycle, an inventive thematic series of the last three piano sonatas of Haydn, Beethoven and Schubert.
An artist of discipline and concentration, Dezső Ránki gave few recitals in Budapest in the 2001/2002 season, presenting thoughtfully selected composers and compositions. A May evening proved memorable when he presented two Mozart concertos with the Liszt Ferenc Chamber Orchestra: one in major (K.414, A) and one in minor (K.466, D) keys, confronting the audience with the portrait of the buoyant and tragic Mozart in one evening. His major achievement, however, was a Beethoven cycle of a selection of piano sonatas in three recitals, performed in a mature and revelatory manner. Ránki's shyness and asceticism was characteristically in evidence last autumn, when his 50th birthday passed without the least public notice-most probably in accordance with his own wishes.

 
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