Santiago Rodriguez
An astute 'Carnaval,' both nuts and not
September 25, 2010Fortuitous circumstance brought the rare privilege of hearing Santiago Rodriguez, a pianist of major stature, in a setting as intimate as Trinity University’s 300-seat Ruth Taylor Recital Hall.
Jury chairman for the 2009 San Antonio International Piano Competition, Rodriguez returned to town Sept. 24 under that group’s auspices to try out a new recital program. He is best known as an interpreter of the music of Sergei Rachmaninoff, whose Second Sonata (1931 version) and three preludes from Op. 23 occupied the second half. He opened with Mozart’s Sonata in C, K. 330, and Robert Schumann’s “Carnaval.”
Rachmaninoff’s Second Sonata is a problematic work. For the 1931 version, the composer cut about six minutes out of the 1913 original and thinned its textures -- the rippling figure at the start, for example, consists entirely of triads in the original but is reduced to dyads and single notes in the revision. The later version benefits from the clearer textures (although Van Cliburn managed the greater density of the original version quite well in his recording), but trimming left the main problem unresolved: Whatever structural coherence the piece might possess is obscured by a welter of virtuosic busy-ness.
As one might expect, Rodriguez met the technical challenges with seeming ease, and he used his hugely powerful left hand to excellent effect. (When the slow movement’s closing pianissimo C-major chord gave way to the fortissimo low F octave that begins the finale, the explosion made the lady next to me jump out of her seat.)
The three preludes -- Nos. 4-6 from Op. 23 -- revealed more of Rodriguez’s lyrical instincts, especially in his beautiful singing line in No. 4.
His Mozart was fairly straightforward, flexible when it needed to be but not fussy, and the tempos were quick. Most interesting, however, was his uncommonly intelligent articulation, a spectrum of fine gradations between a clean, fluid legato and a staccato like a row of shark’s teeth, all deployed to clarify voices and support the musical structure.
The recital’s apex was “Carnaval,” and only partly for pianistic reasons -- Rodriguez’s singing line, his amazing digital dexterity, his rhythmic acuity, above all his mastery of color.
There was something deeper in this performance. Schumann suffered from mental illness and died in an insane asylum. Hypotheses as to the underlying cause vary widely -- bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, syphilis, among others. In any event, part of Schumann’s distinctive signature is a kind of frenzy that suggests a distressed mind, music whose emotional extremes and, often, jagged lines are like a river at flood stage, threatening to overrun its banks. “Carnaval,” with its impetuosity and episodes of giddiness, hysteria, obsession and ecstasy, is a particularly telling example. Yet the composer remained the composer, fully in control of his musical materials.
Rodriguez’s performance seemed constantly balanced on the edge between craziness and reason, frenzy and control. It was Schumann to the core.
Mike
Greenberg
