There was a
question mark in my diary for last night. Piano salon? One of the ‘possibles’
that I’d marked in back in April, I guess …
Morgenstern Trio: piano, fiddle and ‘cello … Ravel, Mendelssohn,
Boulanger (Nadia or Pierre?) … better ask Paul.
Paul said an
enthusiastic ‘yes’. I would really love the Ravel, he assured me. Well, he
should know. He played it himself, in concert, a year or three back. So, book
us in. A night at the Piano salon Christophori is always enjoyable. And
sometimes special.
Tonight was one of
the special ones.
The evening at the
Piano salon doesn’t start till 8.30, so we had time for a visit to the gym,
some shopping, a photo-session (my latest slimming pix), and we even got to
miss France scoring two goals, sometime during our walk from Humboldthaim to
the Uferstrasse. But at least they scored them!
Arrive at the
concert room, half empty (oh! the football), a nice glass of red wine in my hand
(‘vive la France!’), and I’m ready for a first half of suitably French music.
The warm-up act at
the Piano Salon is traditionally a gentleman with a grey ponytail tuning the
pianoforte. Tonight he was tuning two. Steinway and Erard. Interesting. But the
tuning sounded like Mr Reich again. Bring on Ravel, I thought. However, when
you have two pianos, they have to be moved, and when the elderly Erard was
asked to budge … its back wheel fell off. So it had to play its part sitting on
a block of wood! Maybe talking to the wobbly violin-stool. But hey, they
couldn’t be in a better place: right in the middle of a piano workshop!
The Morgenstern
Trio are Catherine Klipfel (piano), Stefan Hempel (violin) and Emanuel Wehse
(‘cello) … aided by a valiant if under-dressed young page turner … and all I
can say of them is ‘I love you, guys’. I’m not going to try to be analytic, for
I don’t have the technical expertise (that’s Paul’s department): I just say ‘I
love you’. The three players all performed with the most amazing warmth,
feeling and, in turn, tenderness and temperament. The piano flowed. Even in the
most voluminous passages, it was strong and firm rather than loud and showy.
Just the sort of playing I prefer. The fiddle never cried out: it sang. Mezzo-soprano.
Some of the time, I felt I was listening to a viola. Beautiful. And the ‘cello!
Such glorious soft playing – actually, that goes for the trio as a whole (for
it’s very much a whole) – the pianissimo bits of the Ravel, the delicate bits
of the Mendelssohn … a true treat.
I have but one
complaint. The shaping of the programme. Well, it wasn’t shaped. Is it wise to
start the evening with … well, I think, one of the most amazing bits of chamber
music I have ever heard? Yes, Ravel’s
trio, discovered by yours truly this very night, is very, very special. The
first movement was my favourite, but that may have just been the joy of
discovery and the pianissimi. Anyway, whatever, it was one of my best (go on,
THE best?) chamber music moments ever.
The Boulanger
(which turned out to be Lili), which followed, was a pleasant, lightweight
filler, but it meant we came to half-time on a frivolous note rather than
floating on Ravel. Pity.
Part two, the Mendelssohn
second trio. Another lovely work, played beautifully. Interesting to hear it
with the taste of the Ravel still around. A demonstration of how musical styles
changed in those 19th-to-20th century years. In Mendelssohn’s time, I guess,
the ‘Thalberg-style’ of virtuosity was more in favour than it was in 1914: and
there was plenty of florid playing to go with the flowing, tuneful and skittish
melody. The skittish bits were great fun (watching the ‘cellist was almost as
good as listening to him!) … and the whole was utterly enjoyable.
The ‘encore’ of
the night was one movement of a Schumann trio. I actually have to admit to
liking it even more than the Mendelssohn, but, really, it wasn’t a traditional ‘encore’,
and it rather destablised the evening. Lili Boulanger would have made a good
encore. But a whole movement of a major work?
Well, who cares?
Stable or unstable, conventional or unconventional, every bit of the evening
was a joy. Players and music. I happily emptied my wallet into the tube at the
door – held this time by the agreeable, hands-on boss of the lieux – and walked
out into the night, and the … rain. The pub screens showed us that it was
Germany 0 Algeria 0, as my espadrilles sank uncaringly into irretrievable ruin
in the sludge on the road to Humboldthaim.
Back at the Piano salon,
I guess they were re-shoeing Monsieur Erard for the next night’s concert. Me, I
didn’t even make it to Germany’s and Algeria’s goals. I had to get up at 2am to
find out who had won. For I was very soon sleeping happily on my bed of
beautiful music.
Sigh.
PS The 14 euro
minimum ‘donation’ does seem to have become policy. So maybe it wasn’t only the
football which shrank last night’s audience.
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