Benjamin Grosvenor - daring to be conventional

[Ricordanza]

Most piano recitals these days include at least one contemporary work, or a neglected older work. For this audience member, it’s a welcome opportunity to hear something new and unfamiliar. But I have no objection when a pianist offers a more conventional program of familiar works, as long as the pianist delivers performances of those works that grab one’s attention. And that’s what I heard at Benjamin Grosvenor’s recital on Tuesday night, April 5.

The title of Cesar Franck’s Prelude, Chorale and Fugue suggests that it’s a work modeled after Bach, compact and highly structured. But while the advertised structure can be found in its three sections, it’s an expansive work in the Romantic tradition that allows the pianist to express the full range of emotions. Throughout the sometimes thick textures of this piece, Grosvenor’s superb dynamic control enabled us to hear the recurring inner melodies. It was a forceful yet controlled rendition of this great work.

By now, Robert Schumann’s Kreisleriana is a familiar work to me. It’s frequently included on recital programs. But when I first heard this work many years ago, I was puzzled. It can’t be about that Kreisler, namely, the famed Austrian violinist Fritz Kreisler, who lived and performed many decades after Schumann composed this piece. When I finally had a chance to read some background on the piece, I learned that it was inspired by a fictional violinist--Johannes Kreisler, a character from the fiction of E.T.A. Hoffman. Whatever the source, “inspiration” is a word that truly applies to this work. Every time I hear this collection of eight pieces, I marvel at Schumann’s creativity and inventiveness. Although I felt that Grosvenor’s playing lost some necessary forward momentum in the slower sections, overall, it was a performance that revealed the full scope of Schumann’s imagination.

My original introduction to Isaac Albeniz’ 12-piece cycle, Iberia, was a recording by none other than its primary proponent in the Twentieth Century, Alicia de Larrocha. Perhaps it’s unfair, but I can’t help but measure every subsequent performance I hear by that high standard. However, as I listened to Grosvenor’s mesmerizing performance of Book 1 (the first three pieces in the cycle), I was able to put aside my aural memory of Mme. de Larrocha and listen to a different, but entirely captivating interpretation of these masterpieces. Grosvenor’s approach was a little less straightforward, with more pauses and underlining for emphasis. But those pauses never interfered with the rhythmic vitality of these pieces. And when it was time to let loose in the third piece, El Corpus Christi en Sevilla, Grosvenor unleashed a powerful and passionate torrent of sound.

Just in case anyone had doubts about Grosvenor’s technical command (I didn’t), he closed the scheduled program with brilliant performances of two Ravel showpieces. Jeax d’eau positively shimmered, and La Valse lit up the room with his pianistic fireworks.

The evening concluded with a gorgeous encore that I had never heard before: Alberto Ginastera’s Danza de la moza donosa (Dance of the graceful girl).

[Donald Isler]

Thanks for this very fine review, Ricordanza! I saw him play on a livestream of a concert with most of these works. Yes, he's a terrific pianist!

[Rach3]

Thanks for this very fine review, Ricordanza! I saw him play on a livestream of a concert with most of these works. Yes, he's a terrific pianist!

Agreed on both counts.