When I was told that we were seeing a piano performance, I was pretty excited. Music is cool and all, and I respect the massive time and energy that goes into any live performance. But I’ve played piano for a long time, and I find particular gratification in watching pianists perform. I guess this is the fault of my parents. Or my piano teacher. Doesn’t matter, really. I just prefer watching a pianist to any other instrumentalist.
A lot of stuff went wrong before this performance. The rain isn’t usually a problem, except for on this particular day I find myself trekking all the way across campus to the 2-5 station on Flatbush Ave. My feet are a little wet, the shoulders of my coat are a little soggy. But I overlook it, because I’m pretty excited about the performance. So then, I get down into the subway station and there is a 5 train leaving the station in 5 minutes. Perfect. Plenty of time to find Fradah. This is a relatively small station, right? So then I’m wandering around the station, speed walking, sticking my head in each car like a lunatic because now, the train leaves in 1 minute and Fradah is nowhere to be found. So then the doors are shutting and my choices are get on the train and hope Fradah does the same, or continue wandering around the station without service or a clue of whether Fradah is there or not. I mean, I definitely can’t pay another $2.75 to go up and call her. What kind of college student monster would be so callous with her money? So I jump on the train, find myself a lonely seat in the corner, and frantically call Fradah’s phone only to have the call fail maybe seven times. Maybe eight. I don’t really know. Then, when I reach Beverly Road, I hop off the 5 train because I still don’t have service, won’t have service, and the guilt of getting on the train without knowledge of Fradah’s whereabouts is just eating me alive. So I call Fradah, and I have service, but the call goes to voicemail, so I now safely assume that she is on the train. I get on the next 5 train, and I’m breathing a little shallow, I’m definitely a little anxious, but it’s okay because I’m pretty excited for the performance. I get off the train. I walk in the rain towards 92nd street. Call it a premonition, or simply a sign hanging on the building, but I’m pretty sure I found it. There are no ushers pointing me in a direction like at the other concert halls we’ve been to, and I ask the people at the front desk where to go, and they chuckle at me like that was a really stupid question, and they say over there and I still have no clue where I’m going, am I even in the right place, until finally, I see Minter. Ah. It’s quite alright, I remind myself, that the people at the desk were rude, because I’m pretty excited for the performance.
So here we are. I’m sitting in the hard, velvet chair. Three glasses of water sit on the left of the piano. Noted. I don’t recognize the brand of piano. I’m not an expert pianist. Doubly noted. Angela Hewitt is very articulate. Noted.
When Angela Hewitt spoke about the piece, she was really ardent and it was clear that she cared a lot about what she was about to play. I’m really not a fan of Bach; I don’t like playing him and I don’t like listening to him. But she was just so fervid that, despite the plethora of issues I had getting here, and the rigid, unwelcoming atmosphere of the venue, and my disscontempt for almost all things Bach, I was still pretty excited for the performance.
All of these things should have been an indication that I probably wouldn’t like this performance that much. I don’t think it had a lot to do with Angela Hewitt. The whole thing just felt very contrived and technical. Maybe I’m just a cynic or something, but the pauses didn’t feel passionate and heavy. Rather, they felt controlled and manufactured. I tend to think that has less to do with the pianist, and more to do with the nature of Bach. There isn’t really any denying her sheer musicality. You don’t become a world renowned pianist for nothing. But the performance just didn’t do for me what it did for some of my classmates. Even the times when she turned to take a sip of water felt strained and made me kind of uncomfortable. The music itself was just so redundant. Therefore, I tend to think that the technical nature was unavoidable, and I appreciate the objective allure of this performance. But if this review is asking for my subjective experience, I was really excited for this performance and it really kind of disappointed me.
I agreed with everything that Nicole said, including the unfortunate trek to the 92Y. Although, I think that the history of the 92Y was interesting, and the venue’s engravings of names from different religions was quite a nice touch.
I played cello for a long time, and I have always found Bach’s orchestral pieces extremely redundant. Perhaps this is because my orchestra teacher was not the best conductor, so we had to play the same three measures over and over, or because we also played a fugue. I found this piece to be extremely repetitive, so sitting through 90 minutes of it was a little difficult (not to mention that the AC was not on, and I was not dressed for it to be as hot and humid as it was). I do really appreciate the talent and stamina that it takes to play such a piece because even sitting through an orchestral piece playing the bass line for Bach’s fugues are tiring, so I cannot imagine how exhausted she must have been after the performance. I think it was visible how much effort she put into it and you could truly tell how passionate she was at the end of the performance when she was nearly in tears.
The pauses were a little uncomfortable though, I agree and at times, it almost felt a little overdone. As Nicole said, sometimes the musician takes dramatic pauses for them to take a breather, but this one seemed to be done for the audience to take note of.
However, I would say that my favorite part was when Angela Hewitt played Bach’s Farewell at the end because the ambiguity of an unfinished piece did not give me any satisfaction. I thought that the Farewell was really beautiful. Her versatility in playing pieces was to be commended as well because she played the fast, upbeat rhythms effortlessly, and the longing, melancholy slurs of the final piece sounded beautiful.
Overall, it was a good experience to have and an honor to be in the presence of one of the world’s most renowned pianists, but since I was already going in with the bias of not being the biggest Bach fan, it was not my favorite performance.