The Young Artist Series blasted a packed house into piano heaven on Saturday with a beautifully balanced program focusing on transcriptions of early twentieth-century French works, with some Gershwin and Piazzolla thrown in as a climax to the darker seduction of the more impressionistic works. Featuring (the amazing…) Micah McLaurin, the Tan and See Piano Duo, and Irwin Jiang, this performance once again confirms Enrique Graf’s place as a teacher par excellence and gives these incredible young talents a Piccolo platform on which to shine.

Micah McLaurin

And shine they did. Micah McLaurin has been wowing audiences, contest judges, and even the most curmudgeonly of music critics with his technical prowess and sheer musicality for about three years now. Oh yeah, he’s sixteen… Opening the program with Maurice Ravel’s intricate La Valse, Micah set a mood of rising tension. His cogent handling of its misty rumble of an opening left no doubt that something very special was on the way.

As the languid melody slowly emerged, Micah’s brilliant handling of tempo captured its lushness to near perfection. With each crescendo, a sense of tension built—resolutions of which are intentionally so, so short—and on to a further winding of the spring. The whirlwind conclusion brought a standing ovation, during which I overheard an audience member say, “Geez, we can go home now!”

Chee-Hang See and Amy Tan

But there was more on the way. Amy Tan and Chee-Hang See took the stage with a duo transcription of Camille Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre, launching us from Ravel’s more earthy take on the waltz into a realm of fantasy tinged with hints of horror.

Their rather blistering choice of tempo served the dance elements of this work with aplomb, highlighting the mounting tension of each tritone, but creating just the hint of an issue with balance at the beginning of the first few diminuendos. But then, this is a work meant to rattle the bones, and rattle it did!

Next up was the wonderful Irwin Jiang who deftly flew us across the Atlantic and lightened the mood with a marvelous transcription of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

Irwin Jiang

His stately interpretation laid emphasis on the more classicist elements of this seminal mixture of jazz and classical music beautifully coloring our locomotive’s coal with a perfect hint of ragtime. After the darker tension created by the earlier pieces, Irwin built an edifice of sunny grandeur, releasing the tension to another standing ovation.

The Tan and See Piano Duo returned to the stage with two works to close the program. Le Grand Tango, one of Astor Piazzolla’s seminal musical seductions, flirted with laughing friction and beguiled with suave smoothness throughout. Any issues of balance between the two pianists were wiped away as this courtship through melody and rhythm captured the entire audience.

Our duo closed the program with Darius Milhaud’s Brasileira, adding a decidedly French twist to the New World subject matter, and bringing the audience full circle.

Once again, what a wonderful start to the Piccolo season!

Clark began his interesting (and demanding) program with a smooth and elegant traversal of J.S. Bach’s English Suite No. 5 in E Minor, BWV 810. Despite the title’s “English” attribution, the suite consists of seven movements reflecting French dance-forms. In keeping with its minor key, the prevailing moods are mostly on the anxious or somber side, though the pair of “passepieds” present contrasts with their somewhat lighter and more upbeat fare. Clark’s playing offered exemplary pace, precision and finger-independence, with tasteful and well-placed ornamentation and an almost improvisatory style that serves Bach’s music well.

Next came the concert’s greatest treat, at least to my hungry ears… and I should add that my ears are always hungry for the hard-hitting music of Franz Schubert, the composer of my heart. His stupendous Wanderer Fantasy, D. 760, is—by far—the most virtuosic music he ever wrote for piano. Schubert’s larger-scale piano compositions, while never easy to play, are rarely cast as bravura showpieces (like this one); one reason is that the composer was definitely not a virtuoso pianist. But he outdid himself quite literally in this one; he was reportedly quite vexed that he was incapable of playing the piece well himself.

Pianist Eric Clark

And no wonder: the work—cast in four continuous sections—is a fearsome welter of piano pyrotechnics based loosely on a number of themes, with the major motif coming from Schubert’s earlier Art-song, “Der Wanderer.” Clark dealt decisively with the pounding rhythmic drive of the opening movement—but reverted easily to sweet, yet vibrant lyricism in the following Adagio section. He then took us on a (typically Schubertian) manic-depressive roller coaster ride through the final two sections, dealing beautifully with the composer’s hallmark abrupt mood-swings and incredibly varied diversions of form and style. He built things up to a fevered pitch in the blazing coda, bringing the house down with his smashing final chords.

After intermission, Clark returned to deliver some of Claude Debussy’s most rarely-heard piano creations: three of his twelve, forbiddingly difficult Etudes, written late in the impressionist master’s life. Their difficulty is not the only reason these pieces are seldom performed in concert: they are also regarded as some of the most abstruse and “academic” music he ever wrote. But you’d never know that from the way Clark brought the music to vivid life. He impressed with his deft execution of the first—“Pour les Tierces” (number two of the set): a coruscating study in speedy thirds that took him all over the keyboard. His rare musicality was especially apparent in the next—“Pour les Quartes” (number three): a more lyrical and reflective exercise in parallel fourths. Then he let out all the stops in “Pour les Accords,” the twelfth of the set—staying in tempo even in the face of the piece’s treacherous high-speed octave-leaps.

The evening’s novelty came with four excerpts from Le Mat (XXII Arcana), a 22-piece work that Clark commissioned from his friend, the young American composer Christian Kriegeskotte. The individual pieces correspond to the 22 “major arcana” cards of the classic Tarot deck: the mystical ancient fortune-telling system. The music came across as rather avant-garde, yet cunningly structured and quite approachable. The second selection was especially appealing, with its slow and stately opening section leading into a heady and stimulating fugue. Kriegeskotte could hardly have asked for a better champion.

Clark ended his recital with a pronounced bang, thanks to his glittering go at Stravinsky’s Three Movements from Petroushka: the composer’s own piano reduction (commissioned by mega-pianist Artur Rubinstein) from his well-known Petroushka ballet score. No doubt realizing that he was transcribing his music for a peerless virtuoso, Stravinsky loaded his transcription with plenty of pianistic bravura, producing an ear-boggling showpiece that Rubinstein played often in concert, yet never recorded. Clark managed brilliant execution throughout, perfectly capturing Stravinsky’s ingeniously quirky structures and headlong rhythmic drive.

Many pianists would consider this music to be a risky way to end a recital—but not Clark. His faith in both the music and his own ability to deliver it well paid off in the form of an immediate and spontaneous standing “O” from the substantial and appreciative crowd. Three clamoring curtain calls—alas–failed to earn an encore from our clearly exhausted artist. But, given the punishing nature of Clark’s strenuous program, most of us no doubt felt that he deserved a break!

Oh—and, being the season’s final IPS recital, next season’s array of pianists was unveiled—and a choice array it is. We’ll be enjoying the artistry of Taiwan’s Long Piano Duo (sisters Beatrice and Christina), America’s Sean Kennard, Germany’s Sebastian Knauer, and Israel’s Ilana Vered. AND—in keeping with the IPS tradition of occasionally bringing us the legendary pianists who’ve been around for half-a-century or more (like Leon Fleisher, Abbey Simon, or Earl Wild), we’ll get the rare chance to revel in the deep and joyous music-making of American master Menahem Pressler (now 88), whose primary fame rests on his near-mythic status as pianist for the exalted Beaux Arts Trio since the 1950’s. I’m already counting the days.

Pianist Eric Clark

The 2010–2011 International Piano Series (still temporarily relocated to Memminger Auditorium) will conclude April 5 with a concert by Eric Clark who has been heard throughout much of the United States and Europe in such prestigious halls as Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh and at Severance Hall in Cleveland. Having won First Prize in the All-Instrumental Concerto Competition at Carnegie Mellon University, he made his orchestral debut playing Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 with the Carnegie Mellon Philharmonic conducted by Ronald Zollman.

He has also performed as a soloist with Sinfonia Perugina, in Perugia, Italy, conducted by Enrico Marconi. Eric is a College and University Honors graduate of Carnegie Mellon University, where he studied with Sergey Schepkin and IPS Director, Enrique Graf.

Tuesday • April 5
8 PM • Memminger Auditorium (843) 953-6575
Tickets $20 at the door
(under 18 and CofC students free)

Program Notes by Lindsay Koob

As in his other five English Suites, J. S. Bach employed mostly French dance-forms for the English Suite No. 5 in E minor. But he suffused them here with a brainy brand of sober Germanic polyphony—as exemplified in the opening ‘Prelude’: a gripping three-voice fugue that projects an air of anxiety and vexation. The slower ‘Allemande’—the first of the dance movements—continues the solemn mood. Shifting into triple meter, the ‘Courante’ is somewhat livelier, but still quite earnest. The ‘Sarabande”—a stately slow dance—continues the generally somber trend. Some relief comes with the less complex and more animated pair of ‘Passepieds’ that follow—but the final ‘Gigue’ takes us back to the suite’s prevailing atmosphere while teasing our brains with particularly busy counterpoint.

Very little among the extensive piano output of Franz Schubert can be described as virtuosic. Schubert—never the virtuoso—was indeed frustrated that he couldn’t play his own Fantasy in C Major—the “Wanderer” very well. This often explosive and dazzling work can be described as an actual piano sonata, even though its four movements (Allegro, Adagio, Scherzo and Finale) are played straight through without pause. The work is loosely based—along with other lesser motifs—on the melody of ‘Der Wanderer,’ an earlier art-song. Also listen throughout the piece for Schubert’s cunning variations on the manic opening rhythmic pattern. The bravura opening section leads into the yearning slow movement; from there, we are swept along on an exciting, mercurially shifting musical ride that careens through a rondo section, a brief fugato passage and even a speedy, joyfully skipping waltz. The extended coda reprises the original rhythmic pattern, building up into a happy frenzy before the crashing final chords.

French impressionist master Claude Debussy—while grievously ill with cancer—still managed to compose his highly complex and forbiddingly difficult Twelve Etudes in 1915, publishing them in two books of six pieces each. As with Chopin’s etudes, each piece explores a pianistic problem of technical or interpretive nature. Three of these imposing works are heard here, beginning with No. 2, ‘Pour les Tierces’—a swirling marvel of parallel thirds presented in a tremendous variety of patterns and sonic contexts. The next is No. 3, ‘Pour les Quartes’—a slower and more reflective number that is spiced with occasional sharp outbursts as it tests the player’s ability to work in parallel fourths. Skipping to the particularly tricky No. 12, ‘Pour les Accords,’ we get brutally hard-driving chord-progressions, relieved by a restlessly quiet middle section. This admittedly “academic” and elusive music still rewards patient listening.

Mr. Clark recently commissioned a piano cycle—Le Mat (XXII Arcana)—from American composer Christian Kriegeskotte. The composer based the work on the ancient system of Tarot, which he describes as a “card oracle”—but with a far deeper and more detailed purpose than mere fortune-telling. He describes it as an extensive “illustrated encyclopedia of esoteric wisdom” that can help lead to “total enlightenment.” We will hear unspecified selections from the work’s twenty-two short pieces, corresponding to the Tarot’s twenty-two “major arcana” cards. A suggested method of determining the playing sequence is to lay out said cards at random and perform the pieces in the order drawn.

Petroushka existed only as a justly famous ballet score by brilliant Russian émigré Igor Stravinsky until 1921, when the great pianist Artur Rubinstein “urged” the composer (to the tune of 5,000 francs!) to arrange three of its movements for piano solo. The composer chose the exuberant ‘Russian Dance’ from the first tableau, the more pensive and ominous ‘Petroushka’s Cell’ from the second tableau, and most of the varied fourth tableau in ‘The Shrovetide Fair.’ Stravinsky provided absolutely brilliant (and beastly difficult) arrangements that—in the hands of the right pianist—will amaze and enchant any audience.

See the entire 2010-2011 International Piano Series schedule

The International Piano Series, now in its twenty-first year, is directed by CofC Artist-in-Residence, Enrique Graf.



IPS guest pianist José Feghali

FRANZ LISZT has a way of dominating—nay, overwhelming—a concert, especially when he comes at the end of the program as he did Monday night at Memminger when guest pianist José Feghali unleashed the stupendous Sonata in B minor.

Josés last five notes in particular—which he handled with his deft, lingering style—bowled us over. The serenity of those single notes in such extreme contrast to the “pyrotechnics” that preceded them left us in silent awe.

It was also a perfect segue to José’s encore—perhaps the loveliest, most “watery” rendition of Debussy’s Claire du Lune you will ever hear—and a personification of what this pianist does best, which is dwell masterfully in the soft passages.

That is no doubt why he has a predilection for Frederic Chopin and Robert Schumann whose works, along with Mozart’s Sonata in B-flat, K. 333, comprised the first part of the evening. And even though the two Chopin nocturnes (C-Sharp Minor, Op. 27/1 and C Minor, Op. 48/1) are among the composer’s most severe and somber, they both contained—amidst dark, stormy sections—some long delicate passages that required careful handling. It was in those passages that you could see and hear José’s devout immersion in the music. It was obvious that he loves delving into the quiet depths, so much so that he occasionally seemed over-immersed, once or twice to the point that the music felt directionless. But the conviction with which he kept regaining the composition’s focus beautifully redeemed him.

The vast Liszt sonata, which pits violently stormy sections against lush, languorous ones, also had a tendency to drift now and then. But in this case it was more due to Liszt’s indubitable keyboard complexity and his unbridled emotional intensity—which can come across as confused rather than expressive.

When I asked José himself, “what does that Liszt sonata mean for you?,” he replied: “Ah! It is heaven. It is hell. It is death. It is birth. It is …everything.”

He added that, to much less of an extent, the same is true of Schumann’s Kinderszenen—13 short pieces which, according to the program notes, were written for young listeners during Schumann’s painful separation from his fiancé, pianist Clara Wieck, while she was on an extended tour. José pointed out, however, that Schumann was bipolar and that these seemingly innocent pieces also characterize the composer’s conflicted inner landscape which was prone to mood swings. In a sense then, what we heard with the Kinderszenen were distant, delicate (sweetly delicate) rumblings before the storm—the Liszt torrent—which followed after the intermission.

The most pronounced comment I heard from people after the concert was that they have rarely if ever heard such superlative pianissimos. José’s feathery touch, and the sensitivity he manages to convey with it, were, to say the least, remarkable.

Bravo to Monsieur Feghali for a superb showing. And thanks to Enrique Graf and the College’s International Piano Series for keeping our hearts, minds, and souls this well nourished.

Christopher O’Riley

THE WELL-KNOWN HOST of NPR’s “From The Top” broadcast will be at the Sottile this Thursday as the second featured pianist in this year’s International Piano Series at the College of Charleston. You often hear Christopher accompanying his radio guests on the piano, but you have probably never heard him play this level of solo pieces. Just in case you don’t have enough time before the lights go down Thursday night, here’s an advance look at the program notes—which might also come in handy if you want to listen to recordings of the works beforehand.

Thursday • November 4
8 PM • Sottile Theatre, 44 George Street, (843) 953-6575
Tickets $20 at the door · under 18 and CofC students free

Program Notes by Lindsay Koob

The lovely Arabesque, Op. 18, is one of the most endearing of Robert Schumann’s stand-alone piano miniatures. Part of the trick with this elegant and affecting number is to hold one’s emotions back (not always easy with Schumann) early on, leaving interpretive “room to grow” as the piece delves into more passionate territory. It’s an especially good test of a player’s ability to deliver singing tone and color, even in the softest pianissimo passages. Written in the form of a rondo, the main theme persists intermittently through to the end, with three contrasting episodes interrupting its irresistible flow (one of them rather turbulent) before finishing with a calm and tender coda.

Kreisleriana, Op. 16, reflects the fictitious character of Johannes Kreisler: a highly eccentric (even half-mad) conductor who was the literary alter ego of famed German romantic writer E. T. A. Hoffmann. In keeping with its namesake’s wild character (and Schumann’s own bipolar nature), Kreisleriana offers a huge, unpredictable tumble of forms, styles, moods, and emotions. While the eight-piece cycle (written in 1838) was dedicated to Chopin, its main inspiration was in fact his deep love for Clara Wieck—already a famous piano virtuoso—who married Schumann against her father’s wishes two years later.

The first piece, marked ‘Highly animated,’ is a devilishly fast and agitated outpouring in D minor, with a more serene central section in B-flat. The next piece—‘Very inward and not too fast’—is much longer, framing two intermezzo sections (one playful, the other passionate) with a tenderly contemplative motif that turns darkly chromatic before ending as it began. The succeeding number, ‘Very excited,’ opens with a feeling of tense agitation, but lapses into a warmhearted central section before ending with a ramped-up reprise of the starting theme. Following that, we hear ‘Very slowly,’ a quiet, almost somber meditation that seems almost narrative in effect before shifting into a more lyrical episode that floats dreamily on wings of love. We then hear ‘Very lively,’ a gently scurrying piece in triple meter that contains contrasting trio sections: the first mercurially flighty; the other more overtly dramatic. Then we get another number marked ‘Very slowly’: a folk-toned meditation that gives way to a much more impassioned middle section. ‘Very fast’ is full of fierce excitement, moving through a gradually accelerating central fugato section before ending as a much calmer, more serene chorale. The final movement, ‘Fast and playful,’ is a fun but rather furtive item that slinks stealthily across the keyboard into a more confrontation middle section before sneaking back out through the piano’s lower register.

The very great Fantasie in C Major, Op. 17, is perhaps Schumann’s most original and cohesive piano work of larger scale and scope. It comes across almost like a classical sonata, despite the composer’s tendency to avoid development of basic themes in favor of piling wildly varied, unrelated themes on top of each other. But Schumann managed to produce a work of tremendous virtuosity and thematic variety that still hangs together well. Written in three movements, the first is loosely based on a motif from Beethoven’s song-cycle, To the Distant Beloved. It unfolds in a welter of passionate, driving themes that are precariously held together by the Beethoven theme and the way each successive section unfolds and diminishes in similar ways—giving the movement an impression of structural unity.

The second movement is a sort of manic march with contrasting trio. Here, Schumann makes otherwise rather ordinary themes work by means of his brilliant (and fiendishly difficult) pianistic writing and relentless rhythmic energy, relieved by the central trio’s more lyrical appeal. The unconventional final movement—an Adagio of tremendous beauty—offers twin-peak climaxes along its dreamy course. Encompassing tremendous emotional intensity, unfathomable mystery and majestic power, it ends with a brief, but ravishing coda.

See the entire 2010-2011 International Piano Series schedule

The International Piano Series, now in its twenty-first year, is directed by CofC Artist-in-Residence, Enrique Graf.

Micah

THE COMPETITION took place in the castle of Ettlingen, Germany.

Two hundred and sixty-seven young pianists from 41 nations applied. One hundred and eight were admitted to perform over the ten-day period of August 5–15. And history was made by awarding the top two prizes in the younger category to pianists from the United States—one of whom was 15-year-old Charleston native, Micah McLaurin.

The biennial Ettlingen International Piano Competition, one of the most prestigious in the world for pianists under 20, began in 1988 and counts among its winners megastars Lang Lang, Yuja Wang, Lisa de la Salle, and Boris Giltburg.

Eric Lu, a student at the New England Preparatory School in Boston, was this year’s winner. Micah took second place. He received a check for 1,000 Euros and was invited to give a recital in Germany next year.

Micah’s program included a Chopin Etude and sonatas by Haydn and Rachmaninoff—which you may have heard him play at the Sottile last year (read our previous story here).

Earlier this summer, Micah—a scholarship student of Enrique Graf at the Charleston Academy of Music—won the Arthur Fraser International Piano Competition at the University of South Carolina’s Southeastern Piano Festival. He also played recitals at Music Fest Perugia in Italy.

It features an all Bach program for multiple pianos accompanied by a string ensemble of members from the College of Charleston Chamber Orchestra and the Charleston Symphony Orchestra conducted by Lorenzo Muti. And all of the soloists are College of Charleston graduates.

This is not music that you typically hear on the radio or even on CD, partly because it is such an unusual combination of instruments.

The evening promises to be a spectacular finish to this season’s very successful series of concerts (thank you, Enrique).

TUESDAY • April 27 • $20/students free
J.S. Bach concertos for 2, 3, and 4 hands
8 PM • Sottile Theater • 44 George St

During his years in Leipzig, Johann Sebastian Bach had far more than just church music to attend to. As director of the Leipzig Collegium Musicum, he was also his city’s leading exponent of secular instrumental music. Bach, assisted by his two oldest sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philip Emanuel, was responsible for providing fresh chamber and orchestral music for the Collegium’s weekly meetings.

Bach met these duties in various ways. First, he recycled many suitable instrumental works that he had composed during his periods in Weimar and (especially) Cöthen, often rearranging them for different solo instruments. Next, he simply adapted the music of other composers to his requirements—then an accepted practice. Finally, he wrote new works from scratch. All three of these schemes gave rise to Bach’s concertos for multiple harpsichords, four of which will be performed as piano concertos.

Concerto in C Major for Two Pianos, BWV 1061
Like all the other concertos on the program, this piece follows the usual Baroque concerto model: scored for strings and continuo, with fast-slow-fast movement sequences. Written around 1730, it was almost certainly conceived as a work for two solo harpsichords; the comparatively sparse orchestral parts seem almost to have been added as an afterthought. The opening Allegro is an effervescent affair, with the two soloists blithely tossing their themes back and forth. The gentle central adagio is played by the soloists alone. Likewise, the ebullient closing fugue begins with the unaccompanied soloists who develop their contrapuntal motifs for quite awhile before the strings finally join them.

Concerto in D Minor for Three Pianos, BWV 1063
Some music historians believe that this is a transcription of unknown work(s) by other composers. But most believe that the piece’s freshness and contrapuntal vitality could only be the work of Bach, and that he probably wrote it for his own performance (along with his two sons) at his Leipzig Collegium concerts. This stands to reason as the first harpsichord part (the one that Papa Bach would’ve certainly played) dominates with its greater technical challenge and pair of solo cadenzas in the first movement. In any case, the substance and power of its outer movements, plus the central movement’s subdued pathos, make this one of Bach’s finest of the genre.

Concerto in C Major for Three Pianos, BWV 1064
Some have criticized Bach’s keyboard concertos—with their overlapping contrapuntal complexities—as being forbiddingly dense and “overwritten.” But this concerto would seem an exception. The solo keyboard parts tend to stand out more clearly, as they are comparatively independent, and because of the orchestra’s often “solistic” roles. Believed to be a transcription of a (now lost) concerto for three violins, it remains a favorite of its kind. The first two movements are among Bach’s deepest and most wide-ranging. Keyboard players love it, too, as all three soloists get their own virtuosic cadenzas in the jaunty finale.

Concerto in A Minor for Four Pianos, BWV 1065
This is the only work in this group that can be firmly attributed to another composer. Bach arranged it from Italian master Antonio Vivaldi’s Concerto for Four Violins in B minor, Op. 10/3, during his Weimar period. Musicologists generally agree that he improved on the original by refining and extending Vivaldi’s counterpoint while enriching and clarifying his harmonic structure. Bach did likewise for the four solo parts, giving the keyboard players ample opportunities to shine.

(Lindsay Koob writes his regular blog Eargasms for the Charleston City Paper.)

Enrique Graf, Artist in Residence at the College of Charleston, is Director of the International Piano Series.

Click here to get ticket information.

Enrique Graf 2007 © Steve J. Sherman

AS PROMISED, below is part 2 of our interview with Enrique Graf, Artist in Residence at the College of Charleston, who will be performing next Tuesday night at the Sottile Theatre. The interview speaks for itself, but here are a few more interesting things you might want to know about Enrique’s background.

He was born in Montevideo, Uruguay where he started studying piano at the age of four. After winning all of the national competitions in Uruguay, he attended the Peabody Conservatory of Johns Hopkins University to study with Leon Fleisher on a full scholarship.

In 1977, he and Katherine Jacobson won First Prize in the National Ensemble Two Piano Competition. The following year, Enrique was the First Prize winner in the William Kapell International Piano Competition. And in 1981 he won the East and West International Competition in New York City.

Enrique’s all Francis Poulenc CD with the Charleston Symphony was a pick of the month by the Sunday London Times and was awarded five stars in Classic CD. And Paul Hume of the Washington Post said of his debut recording (Enrique Graf plays Bach) that it was “an end to the discussion of whether of not Bach should be played on the piano.”

Just in case you missed it, you can see part 1 of the interview here.

In the next few days, we will post part 2 of the video interview where Enrique talks about his students, his teaching methods, and his approach to music. In the meantime, get ready for what will surely be a spectacular concert at the Sottile.

TUESDAY • March 16
Works by Haydn, Rachmaninoff, Tosar, and Liszt
8 PM • Sottile Theater • 44 George St

Piano Sonata No. 62 (Hob. XVI/52) in E-flat Major • Joseph Haydn
This sonata is considered by many to be Haydn’s greatest (and trickiest) work in the genre. Like his Sonata No. 60 (see Mr. Berrocal’s program notes), it was written for London virtuoso, Therese Jansen, during his second visit to that city in 1794/95. As “Papa Haydn’s” sonatas go, it’s a rare tour de force of virtuosity.

The opening Allegro moderato movement treats an abundance of ideas, all based upon the material heard in the first eight bars. The secondary theme comes at the end of the exposition, launching an extended flurry of development. The following Adagio’s dotted rhythms and thematic materials bear strong kinship to the previous movement. The ebullient finale strays from the usual rondo form, again presenting a wealth of varied motifs in sonata form.

Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3 • Sergei Rachmaninoff
Here’s a rare chance to hear Rachmaninoff’s five early Morceaux de Fantaisie as a complete set (they’re usually heard separately). They’re considered an important barometer of the composer’s early development. They are all in three-part (ABA) form, save for the final Sérénade—a straightforward waltz with Spanish inflections. The best-known of them by far is the second work of the cycle: the justly famous Prélude in C-sharp minor that the composer came to hate because his concert audiences always demanded it as an encore.

Aside from those, you’ll hear the lovely opening Elégie, a melancholic gem with epic melodies and a grand climax. Mélodie—the third number—combines drama with lyric beauty, with an ending that recalls Chopin. The following Polichinelle is a pyrotechnic blockbuster that comes at you like a fast and devilish march.

Danza Criolla • Hector Tosar
Pianist, conductor, and composer Hector Tosar (with whom Mr. Graf shares a birthday) was one of his native Uruguay’s most important musical figures. His early Danza Criolla is a fairly short (six minutes) and energetic piece that recalls the “Malamba”—a Gaucho folk-dance from the Pampas of Argentina. It begins and ends with a headlong pattern of running eighth-notes, in the driven manner of a toccata—with more lyrical moments in between. It features rather strange harmonics, with one hand playing in C Major (white keys) while the other plays only black keys. Its lively South American flavors are reminiscent of Alberto Ginastera, Argentina’s greatest composer.

Sonata in B minor • Franz Liszt
Liszt’s magnificent single-movement sonata—among his thousand-plus piano works—remains the only one written in strict sonata form. It comes across as a free-flowing, spontaneous fantasia—but it’s in fact very tightly organized around the materials heard in the work’s opening passages. It dates from 1854, after one of his high-born mistresses convinced him to retire from concertizing to concentrate on composition.

Single movement or not, the piece has all the trappings of a conventional sonata. Liszt managed to draw three complete themes from the opening bars—plus a chorale-like central passage. All of them are revisited in the later Prestissimo section, and (in part) in the concluding Andante. And there are sections of the work that even correspond to the usual opening movement-slow movement-scherzo-finale format. But even if you can’t catch them all, the work’s spectacular pyrotechnics and unbridled passion will simply bowl you over. •

(Lindsay Koob writes his regular blog Eargasms for the Charleston City Paper.)

Micah has already been recognized in regional and international competitions. In 2008, he won second prize in the International Institute of Young Musicians Competition and first prize in the Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra Youth Concerto Competition. He also won fourth prize in the 2009 Blount-Slawson Young Artists Competition in Alabama. He has been an annual winner of the South Carolina Music Teachers Association Pre-College Auditions, and has performed twice on SCETV as a representative of the SC Piano Festival Association. Micah received the Critic’s Circle rating five times in the National Guild Auditions. He is on a Charleston Symphony Orchestra scholarship and is a student of Enrique Graf at the Charleston Academy of Music.

TUESDAY • FEBRUARY 9
Works by J.S. Bach, Chopin, Prokofiev, Haydn, and Rachmaninoff
8 PM • Sottile Theater • 44 George St

J.S. Bach: French Suites
J. S. Bach composed his six French Suites during his happy interlude at the royal court in Cöthen. They first appeared in his Little Notebook for Anna Magdalena Bach: an instructional collection for his wife. They were written for “Clavecin” (harpsichord), but—like so much of Bach’s keyboard material—they adapt nicely to the modern piano. The fifth suite, in G Major, is one of the more upbeat and laid-back of the series—but is still one of the more difficult of them. Like the rest, it contains four standard dance movements: Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, and Gigue—with three additional movements: Gavotte, Bourée, and Loure—inserted after the Sarabande. As usual, there’s plenty of variety in tempo, mood, and style—crowned by Bach’s inimitable, brain-teasing contrapuntal wizardry.

Chopin: Ballade No. 4
The Ballade No. 4, in F minor, is widely regarded as one of Frédéric Chopin’s most profound and technically demanding creations. Of the four Ballades, it’s the most subtle—yet the darkest and most emotionally intense. It also contains the fewest distinct thematic subjects (only two), relying instead on extended development of the material at hand. After a brief introductory passage, the airy and pensive opening theme undergoes a series of transformations before the appearance of the second motif. From there, the development of the two themes becomes intertwined, gradually building in tension and complexity. Finally, after a moment of relative calm, the bravura, counterpoint-laced coda brings the work to its feverish close.

Prokofiev: Piano Sonata No. 3
Sergei Prokofiev first sketched his single-movement Piano Sonata No. 3 in A minor, Op. 28, during his student years, and completed it ten years later, in 1917. Many regard it as one of his finest piano compositions. It can be described as a study in contrasts between his hallmark “motoric” style and his more lyrical side. The work begins in Prokofiev’s typically headlong, driven mode—but soon gives way to a tender, songful interlude. The sophisticated development section that follows is symphonic in scope, with pronounced dramatic-lyric shifts. The manic final coda drives the work to a powerful, crashing finish.

Haydn: Sonata No. 38
It’s not known how many piano sonatas Josef Haydn produced, as he often gave his only copies of them to the students he wrote them for. But more than fifty survive, covering a wide range of sophistication and difficulty. His Sonata No. 38, in F major (H. XVI/23) is a model of confident elegance. The opening movement quickly becomes virtuosic, notable for its trills against a choppy motif. The second movement—built upon scales—is subtly introspective. The assertive finale employs bright chordal textures, leading into a bravado finish.

Rachmaninoff: Piano Sonata No. 2
Sergei Rachmaninoff composed his lush, late-romantic Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 36 in 1913, but revised it in 1931—and it is this condensed (120 bars shorter) version that is most often performed today. Rachmaninoff dives into the work with a slashing, arpeggiated downward plunge, before nearly drowning the listener in a rhapsodic torrent of tense and neurotic music. The slow movement follows without a pause, offering tender and exquisitely elegiac relief—before taking it to a level of feverish intensity. Another sudden downward slash announces the stormy and nervous finale, alternating between a frantic march-parody and moments of incredible lyric intensity. It ends in a blaze of virtuosic glory. •