French pianist enchants with water-themed show
Hélène Grimaud
(out of 4) “Water Music,” April 19 at Koerner Hall.
“Music expresses the motion of the waters, the play of curves described by changing breezes.” — Claude Debussy
Toronto has always been a piano city, and we’ve produced our fair share of good ones over the years, so when a virtuoso such as French pianist Hélène Grimaud wings into town, people take notice.
Wearing sequined boots, noir pants and a crème jumper, Grimaud took to the piano like a deep-sea diver ready to explore the depths below. For the first half, she pulled up works by Berio, Takemitsu, Fauré, Ravel, Albéniz, Liszt and Debussy — each meant to represent elements of water.
Grimaud plunged into Luciano Berio’s peaceful “Wasserklavier III” (Water Piano). The piece included Brahms-inspired motifs and Schubert-like sweeps, played una corda throughout.
Without pause was Takemitsu’s impressionistic “Rain Tree Sketch II” — a work composed in the memory of Olivier Messiaen (1992). Grimaud showed no signs of the bends, and pulled out high timbres evocative of raindrops and early morning dews.
Deeper still, the rubato artist dove down to Fauré’s stylized boat song, “Barcarolle No. 5 in F-sharp minor, Op. 66.”
The approach was entirely romantic and included Grimaud’s signature timing, a testament to her mastery of dramatic phrasing.
Hitting the ocean floor with Ravel’s 1901 “Jeux d’eau” (Water Games), Grimaud flaunted her seamless hand-crossings, which made the many piano students in the audience lean forward with amazement. Not unlike the inner workings of a piano, the piece is like walking through an enormous clock, with thousands of wheels and sprockets, clicking and clacking. Grimaud played through the climax with the obligatory nod to Liszt.
Coming up for air was “Almeria,” from Albéniz’s Iberia suite, then back under for Liszt’s mysterious 1877 “Les Jeux d’eau à la Villa d’Este.” While “Almeria” came across a bit flat (a tad too much pedal and not enough dynamic variation), the latter recovered with the pianist’s unusually fluid tremolos. Koerner Hall’s Steinway never sounded so good.
While Ravel’s “Jeux d’eau” evokes a fountain geyser, Janácek’s “In the Mists” is more of a London fog, heavy with dour melancholy. It was composed the year Janácek was still making sense of his daughter’s untimely death in 1912, and also dealing with the rejection of his operas in Prague.
After the intermission, Grimaud returned with the score that put Brahms on the musical map: “Piano Sonata No. 2 in F-sharp minor.” Grimaud took to many directions, but stayed true to the larger picture cleaved with youthful and vibrant energy.
Evoking Yefim Bronfman at times, her Scherzo was muscular and spontaneous.
Koerner Hall rose with two ovations and Grimaud obliged with two encores: Debussy’s “Pour les Arpèges Composés,” and “Poissons d’Or” (Goldfish).
Grimaud knows how to rock the boat and, through an unusual but well planned premise of water, water everywhere, this was a voyage well worth taking.