London Symphony Orchestra / Colin Davis / Radu Lupu - Barbican, 1 October 2009
Radu Lupu is one of those rare pianists who can be identified from a mere handful of notes. His distinctive soft-edged sound is like a cat padding across velvet. Even the Barbican's big brash Steinway succumbed to his caressing touch. Leaning back on his sawn-off typing chair, he paws the keyboard from arm's length, as if the exquisite pain of proximity would be just too much to bear. His serene and introspective reading of Mozart's Piano Concerto No 20 was barely grazed by a few uncharacteristic fluffs in the second movement. Even the brilliant cadenzas gave no hint of testing his limits - every note remained considered and duly weighted. Sir Colin Davis proved an empathetic collaborator. Glances and gestures were frequently exchanged, the LSO playing with a rare delicacy.
There was more Mozart to begin the evening, a splendidly full-bodied Symphony No 34. Sir Colin has no truck with period practice or chocolate-box prettiness - this was meat-and-potatoes Mozart, open-hearted and muscular in execution. How different from the anaemic perfection of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and their Jupiter Symphony last week.
I hadn't quite appreciated the logic of the programming before the concert, but the martial flair of the Mozart complemented the evening's big symphony, Nielsen's brooding, battling Fifth. The LSO played brilliantly all round, relishing in the extremes of mood and dynamics, and Sir Colin sculpted its peculiar episodic structure into compelling narrative.
Amazingly, this was the first time Sir Colin had conducted it - evidence of just how far Nielsen's star is rising right now. It might be going a bit far to proclaim him the next Mahler, as some have, but there has to be more space on the schedules for music with this kind of immediacy and broad appeal. The LSO clearly think so - Sir Colin will be tackling all six symphonies this year, all to be recorded for future release.
Radu Lupu's self-imposed exile from London is at an end. An occasional visitor at best recently, the Howard Hughes of the piano is set to become its Lindsay Lohan as he schedules a massive three - yes three - concerts in London this year.
His transcendental grace and poetry are rare and precious, and his London performances in 2007 and 2008 were ecstatically-received and near-impossible to get tickets for, so early booking would be smart.
Steven Isserlis Birthday Concert (Radu Lupu / András Schiff /Joshua Bell / Dame Felicity Lott / Mark Padmore /Jeremy Denk)- Wigmore Hall, 16 December 2008
Bach Italian Concerto in F BWV 971 (Schiff); Haydn She never told her love; The spirit's song; Dvorák Die Stickerin Op. 82 No. 2; Frühling Op. 82 No. 3; Am Bache Op. 82 No. 4; Lasst mich allein Op. 82 No. 1 (Lott/Padmore/Schiff); Schumann Arabeske in C Op. 18; Kinderszenen Op. 15 (Lupu); Janácek Violin Sonata (Bell/Denk); Fauré Clair de lune Op. 46 No. 2; Nell Op. 18 No. 1; Soir Op. 83 No. 2; Mandoline No. 1 from 'Cinq mélodies de Venise' Op. 58 (Lott/Padmore/Lupu); Schubert Fantasie in F minor (Lupu/Schiff)
Encore: Schubert Rondo in A Major (Lupu/Schiff)
Extra: Beethoven Bagatelle Op.119, No.10 (Schiff)
This concert was by some distance the hottest ticket of the Wigmore season. Just look at what was on offer. To start with, András Schiff, Joshua Bell, Felicity Lott and Mark Padmore, any of whom could sell out the hall in no time on their own. Plus the elusive legend Radu Lupu, rarely seen, ever coveted. And it was all in honour of the fiftieth birthday of the much-loved Steven Isserlis, here of course in person though not on stage.
Normally, it's not hard to pick up a returned ticket from the Wigmore Hall website close to the day, even for sell-outs, but not this time. There was a long and mostly to be disappointed queue for last minute returns in the foyer when I arrived. How I treasured my own ticket. A crappy corner seat, but a seat, nonetheless.
A swift Happy Birthday from the audience, accompanied by house manager David on piano, then it was on to the real business. Or not quite. After reminding us that it was Beethoven's birthday today, not Steven Isserlis's (which is really on Friday) András Schiff paid tribute with an unscheduled dash through a tiny Bagatelle (Op.119, No.10) - then ran through it again for luck. Here it is - the whole piece:
Schiff began the programme proper in celebratory mood with Bach's sunny Italian Concerto, enriching it with luxuriantly arpeggiated chords. Here's one he made earlier, for Japanese TV:
He was joined by Felicity Lott and Mark Padmore for a group of Haydn and Dvorák songs. Schiff, always a generous and intelligent collaborator with singers, captured beautifully the veiled resignation of Haydn's lengthy prelude to the first, She never told her love (from Viola's speech to Orsino in Twelfth Night). It tells the story almost better than the words do - delivered here compellingly and occasionally stridently by Mark Padmore.
Felicity Lott handled the eerie chromatic runs of The spirit's song, as so often with 'minor' Haydn sounding at moments about a century before its time. Her voice is now sounding rather fibrous at the top, but still has great allure, and the ability to shape a song intelligently remains entirely undimmed.
The biggest draw of the evening though was Radu Lupu, who appears to favour village halls far from London for his rare UK appearances these days. Unassuming to a tee, he shuffled looking like Fidel Castro's chubby elder brother. He settled into his habitual sawn-off chair to commune with the piano, singing quietly to himself as he played - as if he were in his own front room playing to an audience of none.
Just as you lean in to listen to someone who speaks quietly, so Lupu's playing invites almost conspiratorial attention. It's not just that he plays quietly (though that he does), it's the near-fetishistic attention to detail that pulls you in. Lupu observed Schumann's markings rigorously but entirely without the least breath of exaggeration. It was his own subtle inflections of these - an near-imperceptible acceleration into a ritardando for example - that turned every note into something intensely personal.
As with the Kurtág miniatures Isserlis himself exquisitely performed a couple of weeks ago in this very spot (a concert I didn't find time to write up), there was the sense that every single note of Schumann'sArabeske and Kinderszenen counted, that each had been considered and justly weighted. Even the usually brash tones of the Wigmore Hall Steinway seemed subdued beneath his fingers. Science tells us that because the piano is a percussion instrument, the tone quality of a note is the same whoever hits it, but those rare few like Lupu - and Sokolov is another - seem able to defy even the fixed laws of the universe.
Time for an ice-cream.
After the interval, Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk were the unlucky pair who had to Follow That. If their immaculate and spirited gallop through Janácek'sViolin Sonata didn't quite hit the spot, comparison was at least partly to blame.
Back came Radu Lupu in the unaccustomed guise of accompanist to Mark Padmore and Felicity Lott in a selection of dreamy Fauré songs. Mark Padmore found himself rather high up the stave for comfort, and though the notes themselves were achieved, his vowels suffered as a result in Nell and Soir. Felicity Lott demonstrated her expertise in this repertoire with the serene beauty of Mandoline and Clair de lune underpinned by Lupu's sympathetic piano. If he had seemed entirely self-contained for his solo performance, here he proved he could be a painstaking listener too as he cushioned and conversed with the vocal line.
The finale found Lupu's chair to the right of Schiff's more conventional piano stool for Schubert's four-handed Fantasie in F minor. Could they do better than the last pairing I heard, Lang Lang and his mini-me at the Proms? The bar could hardly be set lower - and the response could not be more contrasted. The sympathy and generosity of both pianists was evident in their extreme restraint, even the epic climaxes handled with delicacy.
The loudly-demanded encore saw Lupu and Schiff swapping seats for Schubert's Rondo in A Major, in some aspects even more perfectly weighted than the Fantasie.
Some birthday present. Happy birthday Steven Isserlis!
Steven Isserlis leaves the stage, followed by András Schiff:
Philharmonia Orchestra/Muti/Lupu - Royal Festival Hall, 2 December 2007
Maestro Riccardo Muti is so popular round these parts that he got as much applause at the start of this concert as most ordinary mortals would at the end. Well, it was a special occasion -- the 35th anniversary of his first performance with the Philharmonia in fact.
Reprised from that first concert, and with a nod to the recent reopening of the Royal Festival Hall, the starter was appropriately enough Beethoven's Consecration of the House Overture. Not quite Beethoven's finest moment, but the Philharmonia gave it a sprightly and attentive run through, Muti extracting a light but disciplined sound.
It's impressive - and mysterious - how Muti continues year after year to resemble an only-recently retired footballer. A great haircut and plenty of vegetables perhaps? Radu Lupu, who joined the orchestra for Schumann's Piano Concerto, is amazingly four years younger than Muti, though his wispy silver hair and lush beard lend him a far more venerable appearance.
I was glad to be seated close to the stage for this evening. Lupu snuggled up to the keyboard and treated the barn-like Royal Festival Hall to a performance that would have been equally at home in the most intimate of salons, orchestra notwithstanding. I don't know how well this travelled to the balcony. But from where I sat, his gentle touch and delicate shading brought a reflective, autumnal quality to the work. The few moments of volume or virtuosity truly dazzled in contrast.
Lupu is not a pianist who bludgeons the listener with his talents -- he simply radiates his serene empathy with the music and allows us to share in the glow. Such a shame that his London appearances these days are so scarce. The toned down orchestra tiptoed around him with a contained grace that revealed all the subtleties of the scoring.
Another repeat from Muti's very first Philharmonia concert was Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. Ravel's orchestration spreads the spotlight around the whole orchestra like a multi-part concerto, and the tremendous discipline of the Philharmonia's playing ensured there were no weak links, with particularly fine playing from the horn and trumpet soloists. It was a well-drilled account, lacking a degree of spontaneity perhaps, but immaculately balanced. Muti whipped up plenty of energy and a few moments of real fire, but ended the evening as he'd begun it - not a bead of sweat, not a hair out of place.
The Royal Festival Hall at chucking out time:
Lupu plays from Beethoven's 32 Variations in C minor in Italy, not long ago I'd guess. Despite the not so great sound and picture quality, this is a marvellous portrait of his technique at work:
Maestro 
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