Franz
Liszt, Entrepreneur
Classical Voice of
North Carolina
October, 2005
by John W.
Lambert
A
remarkable concert – from an historical perspective, one of the most
significant, perhaps, of this season – took place on October 20 in
Elon University's Whitney Auditorium, a lovely room that, thanks to
its beautiful organ and the layout of its foyer and balcony,
resembles a church. It's a smallish venue, and a very lively one – a
shade too lively, in retrospect, for what was played.... It's
nestled into the south side of the campus near the railroad tracks –
near enough, indeed, for trains going by to be heard and felt,
as if some gremlin had let loose on one of the organ's lowest
pedals. There's plenty of free parking, including many handicapped
places, and it's a shorter walk from "downtown" (such as it is) to
the hall than many music lovers must trek to attend events in the
Triangle. The fact that there are fine eateries in the immediate
vicinity adds icing to the cake. Yep, Elon is where it's at – or
where it was, on this occasion.
The
concert was a duo-piano recital, played on two well-matched Steinway
grands by Richard and John – or was it John and Richard? –
Contiguglia, seasoned artists who happen to be identical twins and
who are sent traveling around the country by the Adams Foundation,
whose chief mission seems to be providing pianists to typically
underserved American burgs and villages. The event was co-sponsored
by the Times-News of Burlington, a local paper that has not
lost sight of the industry's long-standing obligation to support its
community.... Of course, Elon University has a vibrant music program
with lots of appealing offerings, so I'm not certain it fits the
Foundation's goals, but I'm glad the Adams folks think it
does!
The
program consisted of two large transcriptions by Liszt, starting
with the composer's own "Orpheus," best known in its orchestral
guise as the Symphonic Poem No. 4, which the outstanding program
notes – by the visiting artists – reminded us was written as a
curtain-raiser for a performance of Gluck's opera. The other
transcription was of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9. "Orpheus" bears
catalog no. S.98 in the original version, S.638 in the arrangement
played here. The Ninth is S.657. The notes cite a somewhat later
version for one piano and mention that the artists have enhanced the
transcription by adding in bits from Beethoven's orchestral (and
presumably vocal) parts that the master omitted, making the
resulting score somewhat larger than Liszt, if that's possible. It
may be worth adding that regional music lovers thus have a rare
opportunity to have heard this edition and the real McCoy, since the
Ninth Symphony figures in a gala concert slated for 10/28 in Chapel
Hill (see our calendar for details). With all due respects for
Maestro Tonu Kalam and the forces he is assembling, UNC will be
hard-pressed to match the clarity and brilliance of the
"stripped-down" Elon reading. It was a humdinger of immense
proportions, in every respect.
But before
we turn to the performance, a few words about transcriptions like
these may be in order. There was a time – hard though it may be to
envision it – when orchestras were not ubiquitous, when if one
wanted to hear the great masterworks, one had to travel to the great
cities of the Western world. When I was a teenager, I spent a summer
with a refugee from Berlin who told me that among the highlights of
his childhood were the performances he heard of – eventually – all
the Beethoven symphonies. He explained that he'd walked to nearby
towns or taken the train to various German cities to accomplish
this, reminding me that, at that time, they weren't available on
records (78s) and they were only rarely carried on low-grade radio
transmissions. That was clearly a far cry from today, when many
community orchestras play the canon, sometimes more than once. And
it certainly was a far cry from the time when you could get a set of
all nine symphonies for free, for joining a book or record club – or
download them from the then-unheard of "web." So one had a choice,
back then. One could travel – or one could buy piano transcriptions
of orchestral and operatic works and play them at home. Many hacks
churned out many editions, some simple, some not-so-simple, some
almost unplayable, some not worth playing..... The market was
domestic – and the consumers were all the bright little children and
adolescents whose families insisted that some degree of musical
literacy was an essential component of a well-educated upwardly
mobile.... Well, you get the picture.
And then
there was Liszt, whom many viewed as a charlatan – some still do. He
was the Paganini of the Piano (or was Paganini the Liszt of the
Violin?) Ladies swooned the way our generations carry on about rock
stars and athletes. Hard to imagine, eh?
It's hard
to imagine, too, how difficult these two Liszt pieces must be. Yes,
folks who haunted pianos studios – as students or hangers-on – have
heard these things or scores like them – they were required material
for "piano ensemble" classes at UNC when I was there, and many of us
cringe at the memory....
But then
those Chapel Hillians of long ago (and others) weren't the
Contiguglia Brothers, and they weren't pounding out the music on two
matched Steinways in a lovely church-like chamber that helped turn
the October 20 concert into something of a spiritual event. Brief
spoken introductions set the stage. Printed music was nowhere to be
seen – the performances were given from memory. And the playing was
as astonishing as the music itself. These guys come by this material
honestly, of course. They made what is said to have been the first
recording of the 9th in this version, back in 1975, and they're
going to do it again in the near future. It will be a disc to seek
out, for sure. One might guess that they've played the Symphony many
times – and one might assume that it's become routine for them. Not
so! Great works always offer more than one can master at a single
playing or hearing – that's why they're great. And the best artists
– in which august group the Contiguglias belong – find new meaning
in every repeat performance. So there was nothing routine about this
concert – not in the "Orpheus" or in the Symphony. In the first
case, it was communion with one of the great mythological figures of
music, as filtered through the mind of one of the great Romantics.
In the second case, it was communion, pure and simple, a symbolic
taste of the body and blood of a work that has since the outset been
larger than life. At the end, one was hesitant to break the spell
with applause. It was that special. Instead of four soloists and a
chorus and an orchestra, this concert involved twenty fingers, four
feet, and two pianos. I personally have loved this music since I was
12 years old, and I have also sung in the finale, but at Elon I
heard things I'd never noticed before, due to the great precision
and clarity of the performance. 'Twas Art with a capital "A," all
'round. |