I could offer a number of musical impressions from Richard Goode's Jordan Hall recital yesterday afternoon, but not wanting this mere blog post to veer into a review, I'll keep them to a minimum. I give myself free reign on non-musical impressions however:
Of the couple seen resting heads on shoulders throughout, I couldn't help thinking how a recital such as this one could be a perfectly cliche-free romantic outing. I Musici on an anniversary? Maurizio Pollini on Valentine's Day? No need to check your schedule, the Celebrity Series performance closest to Valentine's Day this season is New York Times columnist Frank Rich, which could also work for the right couple...
A rather large number of students attended Mr. Goode's recital and many of them (presumably) could be seen leaning forward expectantly throughout. In fact, there were a number of pianists - clearly - scattered around the hall wiggling fingers furiously (trying to keep up?) and pouring over scores.
The applause was immediate and genuine, but not being a fool, Mr. Goode chose not to return for an encore after closing the program with Opus 111 with its second and final movement of such meditative peace. As one patron beside me put it, "There's nothing left to play after that."
***
In the previous post I had a little fun imagining how our contemporary culture might have suggested Beethoven medicate his madness/creative genius into submission. But as Mr. Stearns correctly, I think, observed, it isn't difficult to hear how the sheer number of ideas pouring out of Beethoven's scores could suggest madness, and certainly a pianist of Goode's caliber brings a clarity to each performance that makes the breakneck pace of ideas plain. It can be dizzying and is usually captivating.
Consider the following passage on the "Pathetique" Sonata, performed on Goode's program yesterday, from yesterday's program notes by Eric Bromberger:
"The “Pathétique” is one of Beethoven’s most popular works, and this was true even in his own time. The pianist Ignaz Moscheles has left a wonderful account of the sonata’s effect on young musicians of the era (Moscheles was ten when the incident he describes here took place): 'It was about this time that I learnt from some school-fellows that a young composer had appeared at Vienna, who wrote the oddest stuff possible—such as no one could either play or understand; crazy music, in opposition to all rule; and that this composer’s name was Beethoven. On repairing to the library to satisfy my curiosity as to this so-called genius, I found there Beethoven’s Sonata 'Pathétique.' This was in the year 1804. My pocket money would not suffice for the purchase of it, so I secretly copied it. The novelty of its style was so attractive to me, and I became so enthusiastic in my admiration of it, that I forgot myself so far as to mention my new acquisition to my master, who reminded me of his injunction, and warned me not to play or study any eccentric production until I had based my style upon more solid models. Without, however, minding his injunctions, I seized upon the pianoforte works of Beethoven as they successively appeared, and in them found a solace and a delight such as no other composer afforded me.'"
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