Soprano Pauline Viardot

RITE OF SPRING FOR 88 KEYS AT VOM FESTIVAL

A fan of Stravinsky’s epic symphonic ballet The Rite of Spring (1913) since childhood via Disney’s classic 1940 film Fantasia, I was eagerly anticipating hearing July 29 the four-hands version for the first time. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon at the Hanna Center, warm but not too hot.

The Festival’s theme this year was “Transformation: Grand Works on an Intimate Scale”, and as the two-week series was drawing to a close, this penultimate program, which opened with Schumann’s Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano, and a bouquet of songs by Francis Poulenc and Pauline Viardot, promised an abundance of riches. However, I didn’t expect to be so completely thrown out of my seat by the brilliance that ensued.

The greatness of The Rite as a piano piece cannot be overstated. Its original purpose was purely practical-to serve as rehearsal accompaniment for ballet productions. But it is also a remarkable concert piece on its own, particularly because it is intended to be played one instrument only. The physicality of two players reaching over and under each other to play their parts is elegant and sensual, startling because unexpected, and slightly unsettling. Performed as such, it becomes its own ballet, as the two players become physically as well as musically intertwined.

Technically speaking, the demands of simply playing the score are astonishing. The Chickering grand from 1899 has probably never taken a beating like this, and there were many triple forte climactic passages where I sincerely feared that the lid might shake loose from the stick and come crashing down. But all of that only added to the raw excitement of the performance. Audrey Vardanega on primo and Eric Zivian secondo extracted every note, whether pounded or whispered, with passion and extraordinary focus, and Ms. Vardanega’s flaming orange dress was a perfect visual complement to the spectacular music being created. This performance didn’t just dance, it thrilled and rocked. The practically full house of spectators didn’t just rise but leapt to its feet at the last note and roared appreciation.

Every July the Valley of the Moon Music Festival presents a heady two weeks of recitals by chamber music master-specialists, and added to the mix are a handful of apprentice artists. Saturday’s afternoon program featured two prime examples from this year’s crop: violinist Juliette Greer and pianist April Sun, who opened the concert with a fresh, impetuous, and commanding performance of Schumann’s sonata. Ms. Greer played with the fiery assurance of a veteran performer, with such lush tone and resonance, especially in the lower range, that at times I could have mistaken the instrument for a viola. There was a precision of bowing and smoothness to her sound, a super-gliding musical tension that cut the air.

Also appreciated was how she positioned herself facing stage left so that her playing was fully visible to the whole audience. These two young artists so enthralled the audience that they broke into applause after the first movement. Ms. Sun proved a highly sensitive partner, playing the Rausch fortepiano with intensely driven power, legato and crisp agility. This period-appropriate instrument creates a different soundscape compared to its modern piano counterpart. It is difficult to describe, other than it being a cleaner, clearer, more acoustically direct experience.

Only one Pauline Viardot song (“Stars”) was programmed, but it was a beautiful choice for tenor Kyle Stegall, and also gave ample opportunity for cellist Tanya Tomkins to enhance what is already a wonderful piece with an earthily energetic obligato line.

As a celebrated opera singer prior to her career as composer and teacher, Viardot performed at the St. Petersburg Opera, becoming fluent in Russian and enamored of the language and poetry. This resulted in her composing quite a few songs in Russian, but which are today more commonly performed in German translation. For this recital, Mr. Stegall decided to sing it in the original. Together with Ms. Tomkins and Mr. Zivian, this ode to the mystery of creation was spun out dreamily, Mr. Stegall’s lyric tenor caressing each phrase-thought, Ms. Tomkins’ obligato creating depth and emotion, and Mr. Zivian’s playing always capturing the line of poetry. It was performed at a tempo that breathed, matching the text and feeling, and not too fast.

Following this delicious appetizer, Messrs. Stegall and Zivian embarked ambitiously on two groups of poems by the early 20th century avant-garde writer and poet Louise de Vilmorin. Many of her poems were transformed into songs by her contemporary and great admirer, the ever magical, whimsical Francis Poulenc, whose name is often mispronounced, but actually rhymes with “plank”, rather than “plonk”.

Three of the four songs in the first group were from his 1939 cycle of six poems entitled Fiançailles pour Rire (Engagements for Laughs). The second group were a set of three songs entitled Métamorphoses. While Fiançailles, in spite of the title, tends to the melancholy and is quite death-focused, Métamorphoses revels in the de Vilmorin’s unashamed and clamorous love-desire.

To all of this abundance of poetic material, Mr. Stegall brought his expressive tenor, assured and engaging presence, and thorough preparation. His voice is the ideal timbre and weight for French mélodie, and he brought youthful romanticism and wonder to the music. That said, these songs sounded a bit new, needing a few more performances to fully internalize the text and to be less dependent on the book.

Mr. Zivian’s clarity and affinity for the composer’s piano music was evident. All of the new 20th century jazz harmonies, married to classical form and techniques, seem to be one of his most happy places as a musician, and he swept through these fun accompaniments with his usual ability to be everything, everywhere, all at once.