Wigmore Hall
Beethoven:
Eleven Bagatelles, op.119
Schoenberg:
Six Little Piano Pieces,
op.19
Haydn:
Piano Sonata in C major,
Hob.XVI:50
Beethoven:
Thirty-Three Variations on
a Waltz by Anton Diabelli, op.120
Imogen Cooper (piano)
Any programme including the Diabelli Variations will offer an extraordinary
challenge for pianist and audience alike; so too, after all, would a programme
in which Beethoven’s op.120 was the only work on the programme. With a first
half of works by Beethoven, Schoenberg, and Haydn – a programme of which, I
hasten to add, I wholeheartedly approve – the difficulties but also the
opportunities multiply. Whilst not everything here in Imogen Cooper’s recital
proved equally convincing, there was certainly more than enough to enjoy and to
make one think.
First came the op.119
Bagatelles, the opening G minor piece notable for its nobility of utterance,
with more than a glance back to Mozart’s use of that key. E-flat major warmth –
again, perhaps not entirely without reference to Mozart or indeed to Haydn – offered
welcome, illuminating contrast and association. Cooper phrased beautifully,
shading tellingly yet without pedantry. Beethoven’s counterpoint sounded
unusually Bach-like, refreshingly so. As the set progressed, we heard
intimations of Schumann, Chopin, even, I fancied in the seventh piece with its
strange inner-part trills, of Janáček; we felt musically as well as technically
– if that makes any sense – the need to cross hands; above all, we experienced
Beethoven’s need to develop, even when there is barely time to do so. Sublime
melodic simplicity left us in no doubt as to the composer, likewise the
strangeness and difficulty of late Beethoven (irrespective of the precise
dating of individual pieces). A heavy-handedness that went beyond mere vigour, boisterousness,
or resolve (no.6: ‘Risoluto’) occasionally detracted – yet only occasionally.
Further illumination was had
from placing Schoenberg’s aphoristic op.19 Little
Piano Pieces after those Beethoven ‘trifles’ (anything but, of course). There
were again a few occasions when heavy-handedness slightly hampered proceedings,
not least in the free-floating of these wisps from another planet. That should
not, however, be exaggerated. The will-o’-the-wisp quality to the first in
particular was well captured, as were the twin requirements of voice-leading
and characterisation. The obstinacy of the second’s major-third figure gained
very much from juxtaposition with Beethoven’s not entirely dissimilar games. The
sixth spoke as much of Schoenberg’s orchestral experiments – the all-too-little-known,
posthumous Three Pieces for Chamber
Orchestra, yes, but also the preceding op.16 Orchestral Pieces – as of Mahlerian funeral bells. Harmonies
suggested timbre, but timbres we could not quite year, yet fancied we did, also
in turn suggested harmonies.
Haydn’s C major Piano Sonata,
Hob.XVI:50 was taken attacca: an
obvious ploy, perhaps, but a fruitful one nevertheless. The quirkiness – please
forgive the cliché – of its opening emerged with still greater freshness from
the still strange harmonic world of ‘freely atonal’ Schoenberg. A sonata form
thus formed itself, almost as if from a lower-case representation of chaos.
Cooper’s tempo was judicious, permitting of necessary subdivision without
garbling. I found the musical argument utterly absorbing. Beethovenian
connections suggested themselves, but the individuality of Haydn’s imagination
and intellect were undimmed, not least in a development that is surely like no
other. The Adagio sounded with almost
Schoenbergian complexity, with Mozartian echoes equally apparent, indeed
related. It always sang – as is crucial to the music of both. The finale,
however, I found somewhat bewildering. Lack of clarity seemed a deliberate
interpretative decision, but I could not understand why.
And so to the Diabelli Variations. Cooper certainly
conveyed a necessary sense of, and incitement to, intellectual struggle,
likewise the variety of response – to put it mildly – in Beethoven’s treatment
of the ‘cobbler’s path’ of a theme. Her way with his humour was excellent:
straight-faced, even mock straight-laced, speaking in earnest so that Beethoven
could make his point. The second variation could then, for instance, sound all
the more disconcerting una corda
following the march rhythms of the first. Tenderness of melodic line made
connections with, or perhaps better developed from, what we had heard in the
opening Bagatelles. Schumann again came to mind. So even did Schoenberg, when
tonality – dialectically – came to sound most under strain the more it was
insisted upon. The variety of insistence was, of course, very much a thing in
itself; such was certainly the case in performance. And yet, there was, particularly
in the middle variations, sometimes a sense of having lost our way. Perhaps
that was just me, but I was not sure, even after the event, where I was being
taken or why. Thrill of discovery is an absolute necessity, but some variations
began to sound a little arbitrary. It was, at any rate, a considerable relief
to reach the C minor Adagio ma non troppo
of the twenty-second variation. Was, however, Beethoven’s ‘ma non troppo’
heeded? The fugue sounded properly uncompromising, although it was perhaps also
a little lacking in chiaroscuro to begin with. Perhaps, though, that had been
the point, for light and shade were soon to be heard and indeed felt in
abundance. Cooper will doubtless have more to say about this work in the
future; this, however, was more than just a start.
