Monkeydonian
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MUSIC REVIEW
Music Review: Simon Trpceski at the Kennedy Center
By Robert Battey
Special to the Washington Post
Monday, February 21, 2011
Simon Trpceski has slowly, almost quietly arrived at the top tier of concert pianists today. His path was hardly the usual one; born and trained in Macedonia, he now teaches at his alma mater in Skopje. He was never "discovered" or publicly mentored by some world-famous artist. He traveled the competition circuit in his early 20s, winning some of them but not setting the world on fire. Gradually, though, year by year, his combination of deft, subtle musicianship allied with virtually infallible fingers began to take him places, and now, in his early 30s, he regularly plays with the great orchestras of the world and has made several highly praised solo recordings for EMI.
DARK HORSE: Simon Trpceski was never considered a prodigy, but with deft musicianship and subtle performance style, the Macedonian pianist has built an impressive career. (Jillian Edelstein/emi Classics)
Trpceski has achieved all this without pandering. While his repertoire is heavy on Rachmaninoff, he is an unassuming player who focuses calmly on the task of making music come alive through sound, not visuals. In an offbeat program Saturday afternoon at the Kennedy Center's Terrace Theater, Trpceski displayed fascinating and sometimes conflicting facets of his art. He reminds me a little of Michelangeli - note-perfect and seemingly aloof, but with hidden depths.
A mostly quiet Haydn sonata was followed by four of the less well known Chopin Nocturnes. The second half consisted of a work by Pande Shahov, a fellow Macedonian, and then the explosive Prokofiev Seventh Sonata. His tempos were always measured, some too slow for these ears, but the range of expression was extremely wide, thundering climaxes withheld until almost too late and thus even more effective.
Right away in the Haydn, there was a distinctive touch, like cat's paws - staccato but with a little fur around the notes. I didn't hear the "con moto" designation in the slow movement, but the passagework in the finale was wonderfully alive. In the Chopin set, Trpceski was clearly in his element, the many challenges of drama and voicing masterfully handled. Though he does not rid himself completely of the cliched practice of separating right- and left-hand notes for added "clarity," he keeps it to a minimum. Otherwise, every nuance came logically and organically from the shape of the overall phrase.
Shahov's "Songs and Whispers" is an appealing, soigne mash-up of new-agey jazz (Keith Jarrett), Macedonian folk songs, Chopin quotes and impressionism. Portions of it anticipated the Prokofiev that was to follow, though that was likely just clever programming on Trpceski's part. The piece was easy listening in both good and bad senses, though it was nice to see the artist having fun.
There was certainly no question of Trpceski's ability to wrestle the fearsome Prokofiev Seventh to the ground, but he used jujitsu rather than brute strength. Instead of attacking the work head-on, he surrounded and outmaneuvered it. Whether this approach is ultimately satisfying is a personal matter; for those of us used to sparks flying from the steel hammers of Richter, Horowitz and Argerich, Saturday's reading lacked the frightening, machines-out-of-control element that makes the piece so compelling. But there was no gainsaying Trpceski's complete command of his own arsenal and intentions.
As it always does, the Prokofiev brought the audience to its feet. Trpceski had his listeners eating out of his hand, and could then have regaled us with several more barn-burners. Instead, he figuratively turned the house lights on with a gentle, whispered Haydn encore and made a courteous exit. As with everything else, he did it his way.
Music Review: Simon Trpceski at the Kennedy Center
By Robert Battey
Special to the Washington Post
Monday, February 21, 2011
Simon Trpceski has slowly, almost quietly arrived at the top tier of concert pianists today. His path was hardly the usual one; born and trained in Macedonia, he now teaches at his alma mater in Skopje. He was never "discovered" or publicly mentored by some world-famous artist. He traveled the competition circuit in his early 20s, winning some of them but not setting the world on fire. Gradually, though, year by year, his combination of deft, subtle musicianship allied with virtually infallible fingers began to take him places, and now, in his early 30s, he regularly plays with the great orchestras of the world and has made several highly praised solo recordings for EMI.
DARK HORSE: Simon Trpceski was never considered a prodigy, but with deft musicianship and subtle performance style, the Macedonian pianist has built an impressive career. (Jillian Edelstein/emi Classics)
Trpceski has achieved all this without pandering. While his repertoire is heavy on Rachmaninoff, he is an unassuming player who focuses calmly on the task of making music come alive through sound, not visuals. In an offbeat program Saturday afternoon at the Kennedy Center's Terrace Theater, Trpceski displayed fascinating and sometimes conflicting facets of his art. He reminds me a little of Michelangeli - note-perfect and seemingly aloof, but with hidden depths.
A mostly quiet Haydn sonata was followed by four of the less well known Chopin Nocturnes. The second half consisted of a work by Pande Shahov, a fellow Macedonian, and then the explosive Prokofiev Seventh Sonata. His tempos were always measured, some too slow for these ears, but the range of expression was extremely wide, thundering climaxes withheld until almost too late and thus even more effective.
Right away in the Haydn, there was a distinctive touch, like cat's paws - staccato but with a little fur around the notes. I didn't hear the "con moto" designation in the slow movement, but the passagework in the finale was wonderfully alive. In the Chopin set, Trpceski was clearly in his element, the many challenges of drama and voicing masterfully handled. Though he does not rid himself completely of the cliched practice of separating right- and left-hand notes for added "clarity," he keeps it to a minimum. Otherwise, every nuance came logically and organically from the shape of the overall phrase.
Shahov's "Songs and Whispers" is an appealing, soigne mash-up of new-agey jazz (Keith Jarrett), Macedonian folk songs, Chopin quotes and impressionism. Portions of it anticipated the Prokofiev that was to follow, though that was likely just clever programming on Trpceski's part. The piece was easy listening in both good and bad senses, though it was nice to see the artist having fun.
There was certainly no question of Trpceski's ability to wrestle the fearsome Prokofiev Seventh to the ground, but he used jujitsu rather than brute strength. Instead of attacking the work head-on, he surrounded and outmaneuvered it. Whether this approach is ultimately satisfying is a personal matter; for those of us used to sparks flying from the steel hammers of Richter, Horowitz and Argerich, Saturday's reading lacked the frightening, machines-out-of-control element that makes the piece so compelling. But there was no gainsaying Trpceski's complete command of his own arsenal and intentions.
As it always does, the Prokofiev brought the audience to its feet. Trpceski had his listeners eating out of his hand, and could then have regaled us with several more barn-burners. Instead, he figuratively turned the house lights on with a gentle, whispered Haydn encore and made a courteous exit. As with everything else, he did it his way.
