 |
| The opening bars of Alkan's Concerto for solo piano. Looks easy enough, but wait till you see the rest! |
Let’s now talk a little about Alkan’s Concerto for Solo Piano, which you will be premiering in Singapore
With trepidation! It is actually
the first movement that is the problem — the other two movements, whatever
their difficulties, are of more or less normal length, clocking in at around 10
minutes each.
Despite his much-vaunted
“eccentricity” Alkan knew very well that the first movement, at nearly half an
hour’s playing time, vastly exceeded normal expectations. He indicated a
possible cut in the score, which does tear the heart out of the movement (only
a bit of the exposition, the cadenza and
coda survive) but at least reduces it
to roughly the same length as its two companions.
I’m not particularly appalled by
this cut. In fact, I have occasionally played the shorter version of the piece
when the overall length of the concert programme seemed to demand it, but you
do lose a lot of wonderful music. And of course, you also lose the opportunity
to admire the way Alkan expertly sustains his inspiration throughout the entire
half hour. His imagination was really burning at white heat here. The pianist’s
stamina has to be too — and that is the
challenge!
Hans von Bulöw referred to Alkan as the “Berlioz of the piano”. Surely
he was referring to this Concerto,
which comes very close to the length of Symphonie
Fantastique.
It certainly fits the concerto
very well, although at the time he was thinking of the set of Studies in all the Major Keys (Op.35),
which includes such programmatic novelties as a piece called Fire in the Neighbouring Village! Von
Bülow, like most good Germans of his day, tended to associate “programme music”
with the French, and especially Berlioz — hence Alkan almost automatically
became “the Berlioz of the Piano”.
I am not sure whether Alkan had students or disciples like Liszt did,
but his pianistic legacy has had some influence on the likes of Busoni, Sorabji
and Ronald Stevenson. Surely the finale of the Concerto, marked Allegretto
alla barbaresca, and his Allegro
barbaro (one of the Op.35 Études)
had something to do with Bartok’s little piece of barbarism.
Yes indeed — I am sure Bartok
knew that piece. Even more surprisingly, Brahms was well acquainted with some
of Alkan’s music—at one time he even practised the Study for Two Hands Together — and Mendelssohn too. When Liszt
discovered that one of his students had brought Le Festin d’Esope to a masterclass, he commented that Alkan “had
written many fine things, which ought to be better known”. Busoni, as you say,
was a great admirer, and even played (to vociferous complaints from the
critics) Alkan’s gargantuan cadenza
for Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto.
And of course, Ronald Stevenson has created his own ambitious tribute to Alkan
in the wittily-titled Festin d’Alkan —
an acerbic counterpart to his intensely nostalgic Symphonic Elegy for Liszt, which I had the pleasure of premiering
in Singapore a
couple of years ago.
 |
| Elie-Miriam Delaborde, Alkan's illegitimate son. Notice the familial resemblance? |
As for Alkan’s students—he had
many of them, but most of them were aristocratic ladies who had no ambitions at
all for a professional career. On the other hand, Alkan’s own illegitimate son,
Elie-Miriam Delaborde, did study piano with his father, and himself became a
composer, and a long-standing piano teacher at the Paris Conservatoire. Olga
Samaroff was one of his pupils, so the “line”, as it were, carried on from
there.
What is it that grabs you most about Alkan? Is it the transcendental
technique required for his music, his Gothic proclivities, his outrageous
eccentricities, or his all round weirdness, wackiness and zaniness?
I’d say all of the above! You
don’t quite get that combination anywhere else. But ultimately, none of his
grotesqueries, nor his pianistic challenges, nor his obsessive inflexibilities
would amount to much if the musical inspiration was not there. Alkan’s best music
is worth listening to because it is good—not because it is grotesque!
Which version of Alkan’s demise do you subscribe to? Death by falling
bookcase, death in the kitchen, or death by depression and neglect?
To go back to Hugh Macdonald, his
researches on that issue are definitive, or at least as definitive as we are
likely to get, given the paucity of sources. It was not a falling bookcase that
did for Alkan, but a combination of a seizure and a falling coat-stand (which
he may have grabbed onto to steady himself, then toppled over in the process).
The “bookcase” bit seems to have been a later piece of gossip. Alkan was
well-known to have had academic interests, and “death by excessive scholarship”
made a good story. A warning to us all!
This question is aimed for the general listener. What else by Alkan
should one listen to? What should be in the Alkan’s
Greatest Hits album?
Unfortunately for the amateur
pianist, Alkan’s best music is often his most difficult —and that includes Aesop’s Feast, the Symphony, Concerto and Sonatina. The Concerto is, in my view, his finest work, but there are many other
splendid pieces, including the tremendously powerful psalm paraphrase By the Waters of Babylon, and the
wittily varied Esquisses (Sketches). Anyone wanting to start
exporing Alkan should investigate the exquisite Esquisses, and perhaps take a trip along the waters of Babylon …
Don't miss this historic concert!
No comments:
Post a Comment