RACHMANINOFF PRELUDES: A TIUDENTS PROJECT

 

RACHMANINOFF PRELUDES: 

A TIUDENTS PROJECT 

Tiudents (Albert Tiu’s Piano Studio) 

Conservatory Concert Hall 

Thursday (14 November 2024)

What are the lengths people go to hear the music of Sergei Rachmaninoff? A sizeable audience made its way to Kent Ridge to witness a performance of his Preludes for piano, and even if was not his full set of 24, it seemed worth the trouble. The chief reason being these were performed by the studio of Albert Tiu, affectionately known as the Tiudents, many of whom will become the future of pianism in their respective nations.

Rachmaninoff’s most famous Prelude, bar none, comes from his early set of Morceaux de Fantasie Op.3, the Prelude in C sharp minor, (Op.3 No.2), notorious because he was compelled by audiences to perform it as an encore whether he liked it or not. In fact, he despised this morsel, having sold its rights to a publisher for a paltry 40 roubles. Marketed as The Bells of Moscow, he should have made millions, but... It received a solid reading from Chen Xing-Chi, who put the right accents where they should be and pedalling was just as good.

The more familiar set of ten Op.23 Preludes was skipped for the 13 Preludes of Op. 32, which have a more adventurous harmonic language, are less melodic and in certain cases, more inscrutable. With a few exceptions, they are shorter and terser, some not lasting more than two minutes. Every piece also posed its own unique set of challenges. Below are some photos of the performers and a short description of each.

No. 1 in C major, was typical of Rachmaninoff’s later style; very short, highly dissonant, and passing like a flash. Leonie Wiegel, an exchange tiudent from the Norwegian Academy of Music, gave a good account. Blink, and it was over.

No. 2 in B-flat minor, in sicilenne rhythm, had a nervous tension that was gradually built up steadily by Liang Ray-Heng, getting more agitated and improvisatory as it progressed.

No. 3 in E major is an extrovert and jazzy number, flashy and dance-like in its beginning, but soon evolved into a march, not unlike the famous G minor from the Op.23 set. Chen Bo-Yu got to grasps with its tricky rhythms well.

No. 4 in E minor is the first of the extended Preludes from Op.32, a simply terrifying piece. Its distorted bell-like harmonies, reminiscent of alarum bells, getting more chromatic with each turn. Venus Chai Zi Qing, in her outlandish red tinselled outfit, ably provided all the sparks and flashes.

No. 5 in G major, one of the set’s more familiar pieces, achieved a genuine cantabile from Lee Ann, who clearly understands the music’s poetry.

No. 6 in F minor is short and violent, with Xian Ruofei supplying the requisite splash and crash.

No. 7 in F major is little-known and a little puzzling. Is it a happy or sad piece? The Janus-like character of Rachmaninoff is on display here. A hint of melody hidden beneath the right hand’s nervous chatter and laughter was teased out by Panyakorn Lertnimitphan.

No. 8 in A minor, is another short but very tricky piece. The repeated notes and nimble crossing of hands by Kuo Lyu-Cen shows she should be able to play Scarlatti very well.

No. 9 in A major has a broadness and expansivity, despite its relative short length, that was well brought out by Papat Lertchanvit.

Arnold Bocklin's Le Retour.

No. 10 in B minor, which has a pictorial reference to Arnold Bocklin’s painting The Homecoming, had a most convincing reading from Goh Kai Cheng, who was able to convey the music’s true feeling and sense of the epic beneath its many notes and surface glitter.

No. 11 in B major is another oft-overlooked piece, its quirky rhythm, wonderfully realised by Chiu Pin-Hsin, adding to its underappreciated charm.

No. 12 in G# minor turned out to be the final Prelude to be heard this evening, as a hand injury to its performer had prevented the final D flat major piece to be aired. Thus Toby Tan Kai Rong, who recently performed the Paganini Rhapsody with the Singapore Symphony, had the honour of closing the concert. As familiar and hackneyed as this piece has been, Toby found a freshness of feeling, which gives much hope for the future of pianism as this evening has engendered.

Tiudents, take a bow!

How NOT to play Rachmaninov:

Harpo Marx's Wreckmaninoff!

LISZT'S TRANSCENDENTAL ETUDES / Yong Siew Toh Conservatory Piano Studio of Albert Tiu

TRACING THE ROOTS OF

LISZT’S TRANSCENDENTAL ETUDES

Yong Siew Toh Conservatory Concert Hall

Thursday (13 April 2023)

 

Franz Liszt’s Twelve Transcendental Etudes are the pinnacle of piano virtuosity, marrying compositional and invention digital brilliance with unparalleled lyricism. Completed in 1852, Etudes d’execution transcendante (S.139) were the culmination of years of revision and refinement, which transformed Liszt’s early Etude in Zwolf Ubungen (Study in Twelve Exercises), humble Czerny-influenced exercises from 1826, to something really special. In between, these also took the guise of his Douze Grandes Etuden (Twelve Grand Studies) of 1837, which were nigh unplayable and almost forgotten.

Albert Tiu addresses the audience.

 

This recital was special as for the first time in Singapore, the twelve final thoughts of Liszt were performed alongside his initial efforts as a fifteen-year-old. Within these, one would discern the processes of Liszt’s transformation and metamorphosis, rendering the mundane into something transcendental. Performing these works (one from each set) were twelve Yong Siew Toh Conservatory piano students, pupils of Albert Tiu’s studio affectionately known as “Tiudents”.  

The first pages of Etude No.1 and Preludio.

 

Adrian Tang opened the recital with the C major Etude No.1, a fussy little exercise that attempted to sweep the keyboard but ended up sounding even longer than its famous successor, Preludio. There is no doubt that the final outcome was infinitely superior, which under his capable hands yielded maximal impact.

 

Venus Chai, dressed in flashy fire engine red, played Etude No.2 in A minor, a workaday and somewhat uninspiring number. Its final version, unnamed but marked Molto vivace and possessed with a Paganinian level of diablerie, was very well brought out.  

 

Chakrit Khanonvej was allotted Etude No.3 in F major, which had exactly the same melody as its eventual iteration, Paysage. Now the bare bones have been fleshed out, sounding far richer with its successions of chords. When Allegro sempre legato was broadened to became Poco Adagio, an ugly duckling was transformed into a graceful swan.

 

Whoever thought that a sequence of thirds without a melody marked Allegretto (Etude No.4) could eventually become the mighty Mazeppa? Wang Huang Hao Jia's performance of both studies amply demonstrated Liszt's remarkable progression. On the strength of his imperious showing, one can scarcely wait for his Rach 3.

 

Similarly, only a genius could transform the Moderato of Etude No.5, a succession of syncopations and dotted rhythms, into Liszt’s most fiendish work, the firebrand Feux follets. Kuo Lyu-Yan was given the rare honour and did not disappoint. The leggiero of the original finding greater refinement in the latter’s leggierissimo was delivered with much aplomb.

 

It was interesting to see how Liszt could completely transform the complexion of a work while retaining the original themes. A case in point is the Molto agitato of Etude No.6 which would become a lububrious Lento in Vision. Panyakorn Lertnimitphan's performance of both works were as exemplary as they were widely contrasted. 

 

The following Etude No.7 was a curious one, simply because it did not end up as Eroica, which had no preceding version. Its unmistakeably serene melody would however turn up in Harmonies du Soir (No.11 of the 1862 set). So for the first time this evening, two totally unrelated pieces were performed by the same pianist. Liang Ray-Heng did so with much lyricism and requisite heroism.

 

Etude No.8 retained the same C minor key and loudness of Wilde Jagd. Both are thematically related but sounded rather different. There was a brashness to the earlier version but nothing quite like the galloping, pulverising brilliance of the later edition, which Jet Stephen Co Chong delivered with much alacrity.  

 

The John Field nocturne-like countenance of Etude No.9 made it sound like a children’s version of Ricordanza, a simplicity which Papat Lertchanvit played with tenderness and sympathy. The transformation into its famous final version was a case of musical alchemy, where base metal becomes pure gold. He clearly luxuriated in its series of harp-like arpeggios, a daunting prospect for all but concert pianists.  

 

Lee Ann mastered Etude No.10 in F minor and its breathless runs of fast triplets with passion and relative ease. Its spirit was immediately replicated in the unnamed final version, marked Allegro agitato molto. Both are the most tempestuous numbers of each sets, and she gave them the full monty, flying locks and all.

 

Wang Chien-Jou had pride-of-place of playing Harmonies du soir, easily the final set’s most passionate number. Its counterpart, Etude No.11 also in D flat major, was not thematically related and totally forgettable. Its true predecessor was Etude No.7 (heard earlier but in E flat major), this being another case of musical alchemy. The result: unforgettable.

 

Etude No.12 and Chasse-neige have the same melodic material but when heard together, what a world of difference it made. Sean Gan completed both sets with the same spirit of learning and discovery which opened the recital, where innocence became experience and ultimately wisdom. Lasting almost two hours, the concert seemed like a breeze, but that could only happen in the face of true virtuosity. With the “Tiudents”, one is safe in the knowledge that the future of piano playing is literally in good hands.   

 

The final pages of Etude No.12 and Chasse-neige

After all, this is show business!