Ending on a High Note

There could not have been a better way to close my trip abroad than the concert I attended this evening. Inside the Southbank Centre's Royal Festival Hall, I had the chance to hear renowned pianist Maurizio Pollini in his final concert in London. An Italian pianist now in his seventies, Pollini belongs to the rapidly vanishing era of pianists such as Van Cliburn, Howowitz, and Richter. These power-house performers were at the peaks of their careers in the 60s and 70s, and unfortunately, many have passed away. Pollini's concert this evening was absolutely incredible and compared to nothing I had ever heard. Royal Festival Hall is London's premier concert hall and home to the London Symphony Orchestra. For a hall of this size (holding over 3000 people) to be packed as tightly as tonight is a true testament to the significance of the event. Pollini's program consisted of two piano pieces by Stockhausen, which were quite modern and intriguing, before plunging into the extremely difficult Sonata in F minor by Schumann. Even though he had some trouble walking on and off stage, Pollini's playing put both myself and almost anyone I had ever heard to shame. His technique was stunning, so much so that his playing seemed completely effortless. It was as if he was gliding over the keys, and in the process, producing a sound that filled the massive hall. The second half of the program included five works by Chopin, of which the Fourth Ballade and Second Scherzo were the major pieces. Pollini's voicing was unbelievably clear and well shaped, but what was most impressive was his control. There could have been five or six parts happening at the same time, but each was interesting by itself, as if an entire orchestra was playing. How Pollini could have possibly kept all of those parts clear in his mind is a mystery to me. Another remarkable aspect of Pollini's performance were his interpretations of the Chopin pieces. In general, his interpretations were a little on the bright side, yet it never felt like he was simply playing too fast. In fact, I actually enjoyed his faster interpretations more than those to which I was more accustomed. This is an incredible thing, because musicians often treat their preferred interpretations like old women treat their hair dressers; they are reluctant to change.

View from my seat

Pollini returned for two encores, playing a Chopin Nocturne and the Revolutionary Etude, but he must have been called back over two dozen times. Each time, the audience would leap to their feet in hopes that they could hear one more piece. Listening to Pollini tonight was like listening to a story from a World War II Veteran. The whole time you listen, you are thinking that, someday, all you will have is a second-hand account of this piece of history. Someday when that musician or veteran has passed away, you will be able to say that you heard it for real. That was exactly how I felt tonight. To top it all off, I walked outside the massive Royal Festival Hall, and I saw that all the buildings and the London Eye were lit in different shades, while the trees sparkled with Christmas lights. What a truly magical place to spend my last evening abroad.