Igor Levit, a pianist with awe-inspiring insight and incredible technique, decided to take the lead himself during Thursday's recital at Carnegie Hall.
He was playing the Nocturne from Hindemith's Suite 1922, which consists of pieces from five different genres, such as marches and rags, and there were several moments when the pianist only had to use one hand. He gestured with his left hand in a downward pressing motion and seemed to say to himself, “Soft, so soft,” before plucking starlight from the page and scattering it into the air.
When Levitt goes on stage, he seems to be in his own world. He scratches his nose, nods approvingly as the piece closes, and shakes off the tension in his hands from a particularly difficult program. He doesn't do shows where he invites the audience. Rather, he left the door open for anyone who wanted to join.
These physical characteristics demonstrate the tremendous focus and individuality of Levitt's performance. He makes his music his own and illuminates it for others. His confidence and determination allow the listener to hear the structure of the piece, how individual characters become phrases and then whole sections.
At Carnegie, Levit tested his concentration and stamina by arranging well-known symphonic works for the piano. The program began with the relatively short Hindemith Suite, followed by Ronald Stevenson's adaptation of the Adagio of Mahler's Symphony No. 10 and Liszt's solo version, followed by a nearly hour-long performance of Beethoven's symphony “Eroica.”
It was an earth-shaking display of power. Hindemith's wildly acted octaves of countermovement and Beethoven's Sforzando reintroduced audiences to the fundamental wildness of the repertoire standard composer. Levit's New York appearances last season, with music by Shostakovich and Morton Feldman, tapped into his concentration for witty verve and contemplative stillness. But Thursday's concert was pure power.
His eccentric “Eroica” capped the evening. Forget the four-hand piano. Levit seemed to play with six or eight people. He created width, power and bewildering volume for the entire orchestra. So clear was his intention that he seemed to draw a line in the air for all to see, obscuring the sheer difficulty of translating Beethoven's symphonic potential to the piano.
From the first movement, Levitt favored thrilling energy, but also embraced moments of grace, lifting thirds from the traditionally breezy strings and finding joyful respite in a firmly pronounced staccato. In its proudest way, the funeral march was a confrontation with death. Light as a feather and brimming with joy, the Scherzo climaxed with tickling anticipation. Big, bold, unstoppable chords drove the finale.
Sometimes Levit replaced maintenance with force. The pianist is losing the battle against evaporation because the sound disappears even when the pedal is pressed. That compromise was most evident in Mahler, where Levitt sculpted the Adagio's beautiful string section in an honest, almost powerful way. Although he did not consistently achieve the subtle coloring captured in his gorgeous recordings, he still worked magic with his clear voicings and trills, plump when imitating strings and more airy on woodwinds. The emotionless climax worked better live than on disc.
Hindemith was not a warm-up at the start of the evening. Levit caught fire from the first bar. The march was lively, stubborn and arduous. But even in its dissonance, it abandoned the sinister potential of militarism. Dark undertones swell over the subtle Shimmy and chopped Ragtime bass lines. For Nocturne, his only arguably pretty work, Levitt gave his right hand a solid glitter and his left hand an enchantingly soft mist.
Hindemith went on to dismiss this brilliant suite as the sins of youth. But if he had heard Levitt play, with his tense, muscular, mature and thoroughly unified sound, perhaps he would have changed his mind again.
Igor Levitt
It was performed Thursday at Carnegie Hall in Manhattan.