It ended with a series of rousing standing ovations. As soon as Micah sounded the last note of a Rachmaninoff sonata, the audience was onto its feet. He smiled widely. Then came the Liszt encore, followed by more standing, clapping, whooping fans as Micah smiled again before disappearing off stage.

Right after the first piece—J.S. Bach’s French Suite No. 5—began, you could see audience members looking at each other, nodding, and shaking their heads. They were impressed. And they were proud to see such a virtuosic display by one of their own; in this case, a 15-year-old Charleston native who has been dubbed a piano prodigy.

Micah chose a broad and technically demanding program that he presented with great clarity, efficiency, and strength. His poise at the keyboard is impressive, and he plays with a quiet demeanor that lets his playing do the talking. No physical antics, no strained facial expressions. Just the steely concentration of fabulous fingers finding their way effortlessly up and down and across the keys. His pristine, almost crystalline technique seems to reflect a focused intent and genuine purity. (And in all these things you can see the influence of his teacher, Enrique Graf.)

Of course, unique talent, high praise, and heightened anticipation always bring out the deriders; those just looking for weaknesses, mishaps, and an opportunity to have their critical say. One gentleman I spoke to at intermission stated authoritatively that Micah’s rendition of Bach “did not touch me tonight,” that Micah needs a lesson in Chopin from someone who really understands the composer, and that it was unfortunate such high expectations should accompany such a young and still maturing pianist.

I could relate to all of these comments; they all contain some truth. I was only disappointed to see that the gentleman had nothing else to say; that he had missed all the wonderful things about this special evening—or else was unable to see and appreciate them.

I asked several other people the same question: what stands out for you about Micah’s performance tonight? They mentioned things like: “fabulous chops” (his large hands). “He is definitely a prodigy.” “I notice that his left hand is unusually strong.” “He plays with great clarity and uses very little pedal, particularly when playing Chopin—unlike so many pianists.” In general, there was a pulse of appreciation and a tone of acknowledgment.

I am far from a musical expert, but I can endorse two of the points just mentioned. First, that Micah plays with great clarity. He articulates each note in a way that makes him very easy to listen to. The sound is enjoyable and the phrases comprehensible. Nothing is muddy. Secondly, that his left hand is so strong. Typically, you hear the melody in the right hand, supported—very much secondarily—by the left hand. But with Micah, never have I had such a good time listening to the left hand, too. Especially when he had to manage two voices, one in each hand, as you have to do with Bach and Haydn, for example. Micah simply brought the left hand alive in a way that I have not heard nor been able to appreciate before.

Congratulations to this fine young man and superb talent, and to Enrique Graf for putting him on the solo stage. Equal congratulations to the Charleston audience for turning out in large numbers to see and support Micah’s debut. It clearly meant a lot to him, and we will be lucky to see him for awhile—until he gets swooped away by larger musical circles, as he surely will. •

Hartmut Sauer, however, is a fascinating exception with his detached style of playing. He has an assured, elegant touch that yields a wonderfully intricate, delicate, and dynamic sound that is very polished—an almost crystalline command.

But most interesting to me is how his hands play on top of the keyboard—almost directly above it—as he sits relaxed, seemingly removed from the complex task that his fingers are carrying out. Meanwhile, a richness of feeling pours into his fingers, onto the keyboard, and through the piano. Rather than merging with the instrument, he serenely imparts sound to it through fingers that impartially manipulate the keys.

When Hartmut first walked onto the Sottile stage, his gait gave the impression of someone strolling to a restaurant for dinner. And he left the same way—after taking us and himself on a demanding roller coaster ride through Schubert, Hoiby, and Chopin.

During the intermission, I asked a pianist what she thought of the concert thus far and she hesitatingly replied, “I wish he would play more for me and less for himself.” I took her comment with me as a filter for listening to the rest of the program, but I could not endorse it. Whereas Hartmut may have seemed self-indulgent to some listeners, I had the vivid impression that he was uniquely immersed in the depths of the music, striving to explore and deliver as much of it as he could. There was something zen-like in his approach: focused, yet yielding; passionate, yet uninvolved. He himself remained a mystery to the audience, but not to himself it seemed.

This quality is clearly his own, but I also had the impression that his understated manner of playing is something characteristic of most if not all of Enrique Graf’s students who consistently display remarkable focus, clean interpretation, and a composure that could serve as a standard for stage performers in any of the arts.

Yes, this International Piano Series at the College is something special. •

Read Lindsay Koob’s review of this performance.