Pianists with dazzling technique are a dime a dozen these days. With some notable exceptions, Sunday’s program by Andreas Haefliger at Orchestra Hall demonstrated that a commanding technique must be present, but not the point.
The pianist’s talents were fully realized in the opening work, Beethoven’s Sonata No. 22 in F major. For many, this odd work presents a conundrum, being chronologically from the composer’s middle period, but with formal irregularities that seem to foreshadow later experiments. Haefliger seemed unfazed by this dilemma as he molded an intimate, thoughtful reading that minimized extremes in favor of a graceful balance of song and dance.
The opening movement, In tempo d’un menuetto, included dotted rhythms that often snapped with the lilt of a minuet. In other contexts, the pianist would caress the same rhythm with a touch that brought out the long line of the phrase. Louder passages were potent, but never overbearing, the pianist’s voicing (especially in the lower regions) clear and measured. Rubato was liberally, but organically, applied, and even the syncopations in the second movement exuded lyricism.
A different side of the pianist came through in Bartok’s “Out of Doors.” In the opening movement, “With Drums and Pipes: Pesante,” his attacks were appropriately brittle and percussive, but never to the detriment of the inner voices. “The Night’s Music: Lento,” was a highlight. Haefliger’s command of quiet dynamics was a marvel in this nocturnal menagerie of bugs, birds and frogs. Just when listeners might have pigeonholed the pianist as an introvert, he delivered a blistering, breathless onslaught of octaves in “The Chase: Presto.”
Local Wagner fans still not satiated with the Lyric Opera’s 15-hour Ring cycle were brought to earth gently with Liszt’s arrangement of Liebestod from “Tristan und Isolde.” Lizst’s filler can seem to inflate Wagner’s heart-rending climaxes into puffed-up melodrama. But Haefliger made a strong case for the work, carving out its peaks and valleys with sensitivity.
After a stellar first half, one had high hopes for Brahms’ Sonata No. 3 in F minor. If you like Brahms’ youthful Romantic ardor tempered by his predilection for classical structure, this was not the performance for you.
If Haefliger’s reading of the Beethoven sonata featured subdued contrasts, his traversal of the Brahms went for the jugular in a go-for-broke reading, a gamble that paid off only intermittently. His earlier rock-solid technique often buckled under the strain of an overwrought conception. The opening Allegro maestoso had moments of great beauty and passion, but as Brahms’ infamously thick chords grew in volume and speed, errant notes intruded.
The sublime Andante espressivo proceeded with a gentle rhythmic push-and-pull and ravishing soft passages in the upper register. But the final climax was overblown (again with missed notes), serving not as affirmation of earlier tender moments, but as a violent rebuttal.
The last measures of the Finale came together nicely, but not before a few more mishaps and miscalculations.
