At Montecasino, Fourways, until May 5.
What are we listening to?
Johan Nel's classical music choices
I grew up with LPs and classical recordings and my mother was a pianist with a licentiate who performed with one of the then Transvaal symphony orchestras. At heart, my dear father was just a farmer's boy with a penchant for the mouth organ and Gé Korsten's modern numbers, and he occasionally hummed NG Kerk hymn book items. My first major rebellion was trading a skateboard for an Abba album as an eight-year-old when any form of pop was considered to be of the devil.
I listen widely: Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Sonny Rawlins, Madeleine Peyroux, even rap country (Alison Krauss, not Beyoncé's new jumble). My tastes are diverse, as in Walt Whitman's words “I am large, I contain multitudes". But the assignment here is classical music, the very genre I return to, like clockwork, and to which I listen as if for the very first time.
“Favourite" is an impossibility. I believe in the right music for the moment; it's suddenly autumn weather in the Cape and I crave, with one exception, the piano andantes like a glass of brilliant pinot noir while the food quietly simmers in the oven in the early evening.
#1. Ludwig van Beethoven, Piano Concerto No 4 in G major. Wilhelm Kempff, Berliner Philharmoniker conducted by Ferdinand Leitner, 1964
Yes, well. No 5 (the “Emperor") is much more famous — but is there a concerto with more romantic depth than the fourth, asked a collector friend. Kempff is the renowned master here, having already trodden deep tracks. His own cadenzas are inserted, the tempo just right, and he plays the andante con moto as if it is the first time he has explored it properly and carefully.
#2. Sergei Rachmaninov, Piano Concerto No 2 in C minor. Vladimir Ashkenazy, London Symphony Orchestra, cond. André Previn, 1970
The adagio sostenuto is a movement that will always stay with me. It was the Great Listen in my first serious relationship, when she was set to move across provinces with her family. We have been married 30 years. Enough said.
#3. Johannes Brahms, Piano Concerto No 1 in D minor. Hélène Grimaud, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, cond. Andris Nelsons, 2013
Grimaud was a later discovery. Ali van Wyk writes about the monumental Emil Gilels recording and the power of the maestoso, but Grimaud is currently the renowned Brahms virtuoso. She describes the second movement as “one of the most incredible journeys of your life". Selah.
#4. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No 21 in C major. Alfred Brendel, The Academy of St Martin in the Fields, cond. Sir Neville Marriner, 1985
Can one ever sidestep Mozart? If you're of a certain age, you'll refer to the andantes as the soundtrack to the film Elvira Madigan (thanks, mom), but it's universally loved and very popular. However, don't miss Brendel's nimble keyboard work in the first movement, especially around 6:50 min onwards. His crystal-clear and bright interpretation makes every note light-footed and clearly distinguishable.
#5. Maurice Ravel, Piano Concerto in G major. Hélène Grimaud, Berlin Philharmonic, cond. Tugan Sokhiev, 2010
Yes, the humble Grimaud again. This recording is not the definitive one, there is a variety available on CD and YouTube, and it is fascinating to hear the young pianist from the earlier recordings develop into an absolute master in her interpretation of the adagio assai's dreamy illusion. It's bedtime music, that second movement, after the last of the wine in the glass.
Encore: Giacomo Puccini. La Bohème, with Luciano Pavarotti and Mirela Freni. Berliner Philharmoniker, cond. Herbert von Karajan, 1990
One cannot survive on piano concertos alone. Opera was a late addition to my listening pleasure; as a boy I was convinced the definition of opera was stabbing someone with a knife, after which he doesn't drop dead but starts singing. Nicolas Cage's words in the 1987 film Moonstruck, together with the music, brought me to my senses: “We are here to ruin ourselves and break our hearts and love the wrong people and die!" And of course Pavarotti's voice, about which he modestly said, “God has kissed my vocal cords." Listen to “Che gelida manina" and “O soave fanciulla" on repeat.
♦ VWB ♦
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