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Phillip T Young Recital Hall
September 12, 2007
In his programme notes, Colin Tilney billed this as a recital of composers performing somewhat out of character. We get Haydn, C.P.E. Bach, Mozart and Clementi, all sounding, at times, like Beethoven. They even appear, from time to time, to channel later composers, such as Schumann and Chopin, perhaps even Liszt. Beethoven, in contrast, is represented by the largely sunny variations of his Op. 34. Even if this conceit seemed in some instances rather strained, we were presented with a fascinating programme of (mostly) somewhat unfamiliar music.
The earliest piece on the programme was Haydn's Sonata in F Major, Hob. XVI:23 of 1774. Tilney wondered in the programme notes whether this was a piece conceived for harpsichord or early piano. I would be willing to bet that it never occurred to Haydn, trapped down on the Esterhazy farm, that this music would be played on anything but a harpsichord. I doubt that there were any pianos around the Esterhazy pile. The first and last movements of the piece certainly confirm my impression. On the other hand, there is the extraordinary second movement, whose opening (at least) sounds for all the world as if Chopin could have written it. Perhaps Tilney gave the piece some of its Chopin-ery but, in any case, the movement was rendered in a touching and poignant fashion.
Next up was a Fantasia in C Major, H. 284 by Emanuel Bach. This is a good example of the empfindsamer Stil or sensitive style of the composer's mature period. Sebastian Bach's second son, once he was out from under the watchful rococo eye of Frederick the Great, wore his emotions on his sleeve and these emotions were apparently impetuous and changeable. The music is exaggerated and so, often, are performances of Emanuel Bach's fantasias. Typically, however, Tilney's performance was not overstated. Perhaps for this very reason it was all the more affecting. We were presented with a psychological portrait of a man who, though agitated and melancholy by turns, is still a man. The portrait was human and not histrionic.
From the same year as the Bach piece (1785) comes Clementi's Sonata in f minor, op. 13, no. 6. Like the Bach composition, it has plenty of Sturm und Drang, with only a hint of classicism occasionally peeking through. In his notes, Tilney repeats Mozart's damning assessment of Clementi, but at the same time he did his level best to place "the charlatan's" (the word is Mozart's) composition as worthy of performance. (Clementi's reputation has always been higher in Italy than it is elsewhere: a reaction against Mozart's xenophobia? Patriotic pride in the last Italian with a reasonable claim to being a great composer for keyboard?) If anyone was not convinced by the Clementi, none of the fault was Tilney's. Certainly I came away persuaded that the sonata on offer was a piece that deserved another hearing.
When we reached Beethoven's Op. 34, we were confronted with music that is unquestionably and uncompromisingly for the piano. As such, it demands piano technique, even if the technical challenges that it presents are not overly great. Tilney, best known as a harpsichordist, rose to the challenge and displayed formidable piano technique, including excellent control of dynamics - something that a harpsichordist doesn't have to worry about.
The first few bars of Mozart's Fantasia in d minor could certainly have been written by Beethoven, but much of the rest is distinctively Mozartian. As such, it demands clean articulation and crystalline clarity and we were back to one of Tilney's main strengths as a keyboardist. In recent years, Tilney has made a particular study of Mozart's keyboard music and this was evident from the thoughtful performance on this occasion.
The second piece by Haydn on offer was the keyboard part of a movement of one of the composer's trios but the piece works well without the string parts. Here we had an instance of Haydn completely in character. Or, at any rate, one of his characters: the sensitive, measured, gently elegiac one. Tilney gave a performance that perfectly matched this character. One could write volumes about the last note alone: the perfectly timed pause before it sounded and the ideally considered choice of dynamic.
The encore was a special treat: the slow movement from the "Moonlight" sonata played in accordance with the composer's instructions, something that is impossible to do on a modern piano. Beethoven's instructions are completely explicit: the entire movement is to be played with the dampers raised. If this is done on a modern piano, the result is a gooey mess. On a fortepiano, at least when it is played by someone (such as Tilney) with perfect control of dynamics, the result is hauntingly beautiful. I cannot imagine a better case for playing Beethoven on a period instrument.
Phil's Hall, as my colleague Deryk likes to call it, was almost full for this recital. It was pleasing to see that Victoria audiences recognise, even on a weekday night early in the musical season, what an asset Colin Tilney is to the local musical community. Certainly, Young Hall - as I prefer to think of it - provided the ideal acoustic in which to hear the intimate sounds of a fine fortepiano.
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