Is Lang Lang about to ditch the diamante, jettison the hair gel, and come over all sophisticated?
Not only is he guest editor of super-designery Wallpaper* magazine this month, he's also collaborated with artsy Bob 'Einstein on the Beach' Wilson in the posh booze promotion above and below.
What's next, Wigmore Hall?
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This was the sight greeting visitors to the Vienna Opera Ball earlier tonight. "Our opera house is not a bunga-bungalow" says the one at the front - a reference to grizzled millionaire Richard Lugner's escort (in every possible sense), Ruby.
Here are the pair, raising Austria's cultural profile with Lugner's other guest - yes it's JR himself, Larry Hagman:
Raising the tone considerably were Anna Netrebko, Erwin Schrott, and Erwin's daughter Iara, guests of the Staatsoper's new director, Dominique Meyer:
The face that says "my shoes hurt":
On stage for a couple of numbers was the scrubbed-up Elina Garanca:
And guess who turned up on a whim, just because he happened to be in the area?
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Hmmm. Are you surprised Lang Lang's been keeping this particular corner of his promotional endorsement activities low profile?
The real mystery though is why, presented with the puntastic opportunity of a lifetime, advertisers LangLangham Hotels plumped instead for the less predictable shortsighted-butterfly-raping-a-bow-tie shot.
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As Lang Lang bangs out an encore on the iPad at a concert last week, the technology - and the app - get a bit of free publicity of course.
But the biggest beneficiary PR-wise may be Lang Lang himself - and indirectly perhaps even classical music in general.
320,000 YouTube hits in just four days is pretty impressive. It's certainly more than many of his straight videos. Another Lang Lang novelty (below) has been seen 437,000 times - but that's taken more than three years.
The statistics do suggest a number of viewers of the latest video are tuning in for the technology, not the performer. And as with some of his other deals - Adidas comes to mind - Lang Lang's canny association with the oversized iPod is - measurably - exposing his name and his music to people who perhaps hadn't heard of him before. Not so much selling out as branching out. Smart move.
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The New York Times claims that Lang Lang's forthcoming Haiti benefit concert in Carnegie Hall will raise next to nothing for the earthquake victims, even if all $189,793 worth of tickets sell out.
No criticism can attach to Lang Lang and his fellow artistes, who have waived their fees. But the concert promoter CAMI Music estimates that expenses will total $181,590, which will leave little profit.
Costs include hall rent of $13,785, $6,315 for ushers, $2,300 for security and $42,535 for "stagehand labor" (aka unionised piano-shifters on $500K a year).
Ironically the biggest expense itemised in the article is a massive $52,000 for advertising the event - in the New York Times.
Fortunately an added $60,000 in promotional sponsorship from Montblanc and CAMI should ensure the Haitians receive some cold hard cash.
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Prom 56: Sachsische Staatskapelle Dresden / Luisi / Lang Lang - Royal Albert Hall, 27 August 2009
This is what the Proms are best at. Modestly-scaled works may be cruelly exposed by the troublesome acoustic, but the army demanded by Strauss's Alpine Symphony - 100+ musicians, a vast battery of percussion and of course the mighty organ - filled the Royal Albert Hall where others fail. The Staatskapelle Dresden's agile, propulsive performance was not without blemish. But Fabio Luisi balanced his forces beautifully, and telling details like pizzicato raindrops were perfectly framed against an unsentimentally-wrought landscape.
Inspired programming paired it with traces by Rebecca Saunders. Strauss takes us up the mountain and down again; Rebecca Saunders circles round it, contemplating from all angles. Monumental blocks of sound materialise and evanesce, shape and colour changing with each appearance. The leering, jagged crux warns this is not cosy mood music. It's hypnotic yet unsettling.
Too many of the 'contemporary' slots in this year's Proms have been given over to John Adams and his warm baths in post-modernist cliche. This formed a rare and essential diversion.
Too bad a toddler's wails pierced through the quieter sections. I'm all for welcoming kids, but there are limits - a concert hall is not a creche.
And then on bounced the Saviour of Classical Music himself, Lang Lang. His hair was gelled to attention, his head tossed back, his face scrunched in ecstatic agony - it was impossible to watch him without wincing - but his usual exuberance at the keyboard was reined in. Chopin's second piano concerto was all restraint, not a note was hammered. He listened to the orchestra, they listened to him. Questionably, he sacrificed his usual brilliant articulation for a more smudged, impressionistic tone.
There was little that seemed spontaneous, but nothing garish or vulgar either. It wasn't a brilliant performance or one that will stick in my mind forever by any means, but it's further evidence that Lang Lang is at last exploiting his exceptional talent more wisely. Even his encore, a Chopin étude, was thoughtful and delicate. Has Lang Lang grown up?
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Classical Brits - Royal Albert Hall, 14 May 2009
Well, I have survived my first (and probably last) Classical Brits. The things I'll sit through for five minutes of Jonas Kaufmann.
Onr of the low points came early on. A scratchily-amplified Plácido competing with caterwauling Jenkins. Words by the Pope (the ex-goalie, not the ex-Nazi), tune forgettable. Waste of a tenor.
David Mellor gassed on for an eternity before presenting Sir Charles Mackerras with an award for his Mozart CD.
Lang Lang bashed out Chopin's 'Heroic' Polonaise in crowd-pleasing style.
............ oh yus, there's more of this stuff............
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Last night's Lang Lang gig at St Luke's (of which, more later, time permitting) came with an unexpected post-show bonus. Every audience member got a *free* canvas bag, containing the usual promo leaflet guff, plus a sweetly-themed and hygienically-packaged fortune cookie.
Now I've got the LSO bag to go with my Simón Bolívar YO jacket and cap from last week, all I need is the Radu Lupu beach shorts and the Bernard Haitink fluffy bunny slippers, and I'm all dressed for summer.
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London Symphony Orchestra / Tan Dun / Daniel Harding / Lang Lang - Barbican, 21 April 2009
The most famous symphony in the world right now, Tan Dun's five minute Internet Symphony 'Eroica' was more impressive live in the Barbican than on the inevitably tinny YouTube video. But, frantic yet curiously numbing, it still sounds more like a theme tune for a Saturday night footie programme than a groundbreaking work of art. The LSO, faces like small children confronted with steaming brussels sprouts, despatched it efficiently, though with manifestly less enthusiasm than the conductor/composer himself. The whole YouTube orchestra project of which this is the centrepiece has done a brilliant job of promoting classical music on YouTube. In that respect, it's a massive success. But please can we leave it out of the concert hall now?
The capacity audience seemed to like it. But not half as much as the entrance of the man who for many was the evening's main attraction - Lang Lang - here to give the UK premiere of the piano concerto Tan Dun composed specially for him. It's a more serious work than the Internet Symphony, both in length - thirty minutes - and intent, but again there's much in it that's superficial and derivative.
The piano is very much centre stage throughout, but surprisingly (considering Lang Lang's virtuosity), there's little flashiness in the writing. The key recurring motif is a single note, repeated at rattlesnake speed using alternating fingers. Sounds easy, is hard. Incredibly so when articulated with Lang Lang's clarity and evenness. Stealth flash. But not exactly 'pianistic'. Some attractive moments of Ravelian introspection aside, that's what I felt about a lot of the piano writing in this piece. Tan Dun wasn't so much exploring the instrument's sonorities as wishing it were something else. A drum perhaps, or sometimes a harp. Lang Lang's heart didn't seem to be quite in it, and I couldn't blame him.
Percussion, both tuned and whacked, features as strongly as the piano. It lends a little Chinese flavour but the overall effect is more pot noodle than chow mein. What really killed the work for me though was its rambling, episodic structure (or lack of) - it's a side dish to an invisible movie in the Crouching Tiger mould. Background music.
Daniel Harding - looking in action ever more like a pocket-sized Rob Brydon - was drafted in to restore normality for the second half with Mahler's First Symphony. A fair few of the audience had scooted off in the interval, their musical appetites sated. They missed a great performance. Harding had the measure of the detail, without resorting to empty, over-emphatic gesture. The opening shiver of strings, immaculately controlled, was just the first indication of his detailed preparation. The first movement's offstage brass were perfectly balanced and wind solos assertive but not overbearing.
The odd positioning of the basses - behind and beneath the first violins - seemed to me his only misjudgement (though for all I know he was following Mahler's instruction). Sitting centre stalls, I simply couldn't hear them very well. It was certainly Mahler's idea (at one point) for the usual solo bass introduction to the third movement to be augmented by the whole section - another change that didn't work for me, losing the sinister directness of the solo alternative. The tragic and grotesque edges of this movement weren't quite sharply focussed, but that may be preferable to Gergiev's idiosyncratic extremes.
An explosive finale pushed the volume limits, but never quite teetered out of control. The recollection of the opening string shimmer and horn call lent a neat symmetry. Once again, Harding followed a composer instruction, this time for the horns to stand up - though I'm not sure this added anything but novelty value on this particular occasion. But overall , a measured and satisfying account.
LSO play Symphony No. 1 "Eroica" - for YouTube, conducted by Tan Dun:
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Lang Lang Masterclass - St Luke's, 18 April 2009
photo: Platon
There are still those who think Lang Lang would be better off taking masterclasses than giving them, but I'm not one. This masterclass for three of the Guildhall's most promising piano students was the second event in the LSO's Lang Lang residency - I decided to give the first, a morning workshop for 100 pianists "of all abilities" a miss, on the grounds that, like Handel's Messiah, it's probably one of those things that's better to do than to watch.
Mishka Rushdie Momen, Ashley Fripp and Erdem Misirlioglu were the lucky recipients of Lang Lang's attentions, each getting about forty minutes to play a short piece then receive the young master's top tips.
Mishka was up first, a slight ballerina-like beauty who tackled Debussy's L'Isle Joyeuse with an impeccable daintiness reminiscent of her mentor, Imogen Cooper (in the audience and clenched with concern). It was undoubtedly, as Lang Lang sincerely praised her, "finished". But it was also more twinset and pearls than bare feet and chiffon.
What was to be done?
Debussy, Lang Lang pointed out, was an impressionist. Er, OK. (With an audience of tinies, mums, students, teachers, locals and assorted music lovers, I eventually grasped the remark was for our benefit not Mishka's.) Then he got down to the practical stuff. He got Mishka to run through the first few bars again and stopped her after her crescendo. It's not just about increasing dynamic he remarked. Debussy wanted rubato too.
At this point I recalled a recent Stephen Hough blog post on the very same subject (Stephen is by the way as brilliant at blogging as performing - do check him out in the Telegraph).
Anyone with half an ear can hear what's wrong with a performance, but it takes the skill and experience of a Lang Lang to work out how to put it right. Mishka did as Lang Lang suggested. Magic! - it was suddenly more Debussyesque. And so he carried on, adding layers of colour and nuance as she played stop-start for him. A little dynamic shift here, a touch of rubato there. When he couldn't find quite the right words, he hummed or swayed or stirred imaginary soup, but it all made sense somehow. Not only did the new-found watery shimmer sound more like Debussy, it sounded more personal, more like Mishka.
Chopin's Barcarolle Op.60 was Ashley's choice. Exquisitely coloured (as Lang Lang was quick to praise) but hammered out with a macho meatiness that reminded Lang Lang of a sonata and me of Beethoven. Chopin is not classical, he's romantic, Lang Lang pointed out (again for the audience). How to produce the rolling lilt of a true barcarolle, the sweep of the oar and the swell of the waves? Phrasing! That was what Ashley needed. Lang Lang went through it section by section - less crescendo here, a brighter note there, rebalancing the hands. Gradually the four-squareness loosened out. Positive, confident Ashley, was still there, but so was a more delicate, questioning sensibility. Another victory!
Last up was Erdem Misirlioglu with three Rachmaninoff preludes (4, 6 and 7). Erdem, who only started playing at the age of nine, seemed of the three to have the greatest rapport with the piano. Lang Lang was quick to praise his sensitivity.
But why did the first two preludes drag so? The answer was simple. Too slow! said Lang Lang. Erdem was resistant at first, but Lang Lang insisted. A slight quickening of tempo, maybe only a few beats, and Erdem's playing was transformed as he breathed life into it. Not only that but, without Lang Lang needing to say anything, the faster pace allowed Erdem to ease up on pedalling, and the notes gained a new clarity. Result!
I have condensed enormously here - Lang Lang gave each student numerous very specific pointers. Perhaps not every single suggestion he made was right, and perhaps (inevitably) he ended up sharing his own ideas about the pieces as much as encouraging the students to find their own. Such is the nature of masterclasses. But there were more than enough sound and specific nuggets for them to take away and chew on. And as an insight into how Lang Lang approaches work himself, it was revelatory, something I'll bear in mind when I listen to his own performances later in the week.
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In conjunction with the Lang Lang mini-season at the Barbican in April, there are three *free* - yes **free** - Langular happenings at St Lukes.
The first two events are on 18 April. In the morning, Lang Lang leads a workshop for 100 pianists. In the afternoon, he teaches a masterclass for Guildhall students.
On 24 April, he's interviewed by LSO violinist David Alberman, and will, we are promised, reveal "what it's like to be a global musical phenomenon."
This conversation will also be streamed live over the internet on lso.co.uk/langlang.
Click the links above for ticket details and remember - they'll go fast.
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Prom 60: Lang Lang / Marc Yu
and
Prom 61: Verdi's Requiem - BBCSO/Bělohlávek / Urmana / DeYoung / Calleja / d'Arcangelo - Royal Albert Hall, 31 August 2008
Mozart Sonata No.13 in B flat major, K.333
Rachmaninov Prelude in G minor, Op.23 No.5; Prelude in Bb Major, Op.23 No.2
Chopin Grand Polonaise in E-flat major
Schubert Fantasia in F minor for piano duet, D940
Debussy Preludes, Book 1 - La fille aux cheveux de lin; Les collines d'Anacapri
Traditional Chinese Moonlight Reflections; Spring Dance
Liszt transc. Horowitz Hungarian Rhapsody No.2, S.244
Encore: Chopin Étude Op.10 No.3 in E major
Why would Lang Lang want to share the stage with a child pianist? Marc Yu is undeniably gifted and technically brilliant - for a 9 year old - but nowhere near the finished article. He's got all the moves, but nothing more than accomplished mimicry to present. And to be ruthlessly objective, with his miniature hands, most of the serious concert repertoire is simply beyond his physical capabilities right now anyway. Some day he might be the next Barenboim, but right now he's a novelty act, a mini-maestro in a tiny black suit.
Giving over a substantial chunk of his recital time to a duet with little Marc was generous of Lang Lang, but it also switched the focus unequivocally from performance to performer. Hardly the smartest move when you're repeatedly criticised for insubstantial showboating.
I hear something in Lang Lang that makes me think he's an immensely talented and, yes, sensitive pianist, but his frustratingly blingy performances are more often dazzling than illuminating.
He began promisingly with a Mozart sonata - hardly a revelatory performance, but at least it wasn't thumped out like the crudely-hewn Rachmaninov that followed. Coordination was surprisingly poor in the centrepiece Schubert duet - very much two pianists rather than four hands.
Lizst's gloriously bright and splashy Hungarian Rhapsody is perfectly tailored to the ever-present showman in Lang Lang, but it was only with the Chopin, and particularly the E major Étude he encored with, that there was a glimpse of sensitivity and true accomplishment.
When I arrived, a couple of hours before the start, the day tickets queue was already stretching way down Prince Consort Road. As anyone could have predicted with one of the world's most popular pianists on the bill.
But TV is God, and so at least a hundred queuers were excluded because the piano was placed, not on the normal stage, but on a camera-friendly makeshift platform that is normally standing space in the centre of the Arena (and which also compelled the performers to enter through the audience).
Even though the TV cameras left with Lang Lang, the d-i-y boxing ring was still in place for the evening performance of Verdi's Requiem, again squeezing some concert goers out, and crushing the rest of us into the whiffy armpits of our fellow prommers. Sometimes I wonder why the BBC don't just do the whole thing from a studio. But at least it was a rewarding performance.
With a double choir of nearly 300, the explosive Dies irae had undeniable impact, though the quieter choral moments lumbered unwieldily, dragging at the skirts of what was otherwise a sprightly reading. Bělohlávek lit a fire under the BBCSO, and the soloists were excellent.
Michelle DeYoung's otherwordly radiance was a slightly odd match with bingo gran Violeta Urmana's more traditionally operatic approach, and they sounded better alone than together. Urmana's final Libera me was a heartfelt and moving prayer, bravely nuanced. Though some thin top notes marked her limits, this was the best singing I've heard from her in a long time.
Joseph Calleja's ringing, flexible tenor was, oddly, more imposing than the anxious-looking Ildebrando d'Arcangelo's light bass. And both shrivelled like shrimps before the might of Urmana, but otherwise these were both thoughtful and well-judged ensemble performances.
Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody performed by a true master. Including a lesson on handling pesky coughers at 1:10:
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