BY THOMAS MISSON
Angela Hewitt
Bach, Scarlatti, Ravel, Chabrier
Federation Concert Hall, 13 May
Hewitt opened the recital with two of Bach’s Partitas for keyboard: No. 1 in Bb Major, BWV825; followed by No. 4 in D Major, BWV828.
The Courante of the Partita No. 1 danced with a remarkable, uninhibited vitality and rhythmic drive. This progressed through to an intensely involving journey in the Sarabande, with Hewitt managing to gently charm the audience into breathing when she breathed. The partita closed with a Gigue that spread through the room in a relentless, dextrous masterclass of quick hand-crossing.
In the larger and more serious Partita No. 4, Hewitt brought a comforting, balletic, music-box like delicacy to its Menuet. In this work’s Sarabande, Hewitt evoked collective stillness to the audience in the space of just one bar, turning this stately dance style into something profound and reflective. Again, the audience started to breathe when she did, and live the music as she was living it in a magical feat of communication.
Hewitt achieved a curious duality in her performance. Both partitas sounded larger, more complex, more difficult, more detailed, and more orchestral than I could have imagined from one piano and one pianist. On the other hand, they both sounded natural and simple. Hewitt employed colours from romanticism, impressionism and baroque that freshened these incredible suites and revitalised the dance baroque forms of Bach. After the interval was a series of five Scarlatti sonatas. The Sonata in D Major, K492 was playful and full of childish, tumbling arpeggios and scales; while the Sonata in E Major, K380 was given a songful treatment accompanied by its gentle trumpets and horn-like gestures.
Ravel’s Sonatine was performed with love and respect, full of sensuous chord voicings and wide dynamic extremes. It was almost as if she exhaled the music from her body, out of the piano and into your ears and veins. Overt physical theatricality, like in the Bach, adorned some of the more important points of the music; the added dynamism marking out the structure for the audience. My favourite moments included the last chord of the Modere, which sounded impossibly close to a harp; the light and sweet opening of the Mouvement De Menuett; and the surging waves bookending the Anime, which sounded like one string of musical thought.
Chabrier’s Bouree Fantastique further upped the virtuosic stakes with its proud, confident playfulness and rhythmic drive. The middle section blended well with the French-dominated final part of the recital, with rich chord voicings and harp-like arpeggios. The sprint to the finish was gripping: from its early uttering to the charging rhythmic energy of the final bars, the repeated notes were still impressively punchy from far back in the hall.
Usually, I don’t enjoy encores – nor Debussy’s Clair De Lune, having heard its artistic worth trivialised from amateurs and professionals. But Hewitt’s tender performance seemed far more protective of this popular work in a complete, beautiful, yet relaxed and intimate performance. It was as if she were playing at home to unwind, or to close friends.
The recital was unceasingly honest, genuine, and attractively non-aristocratic. Hewitt consistently produced moments that physically tingled my spine and warmed me. The rapport with the audience was such that the music spoke to us plainly, asking us questions, uttering words of comfort, and telling us fantastical stories. Add to this an inescapably kind, charming and gentle stage presence, and you are left with one of the all-time most pleasurable experiences one can have with music.
Check out our interview with Angela to learn more about how she brings the music of Bach to life.
Image supplied. Credit: Keith Saunders
