O, "let There be Brahms."

There’s a truck-load of truck. So let’s to it!

This comes to us from the San Jose Mercury. Richard Scheinin, I guess you could say, liked the performance of Brahms’ Piano Concerto, by pianist Stephen Hough. Not only did he like it, he really, really, super really liked it, a lot. So much so that Melissa Jones’ hair must have caught fire mid-poetic waxing.

But, before we find out how much he liked the performance, let’s just take a moment to check out the title.

Pianist Hough masters Brahms concerto

Got it? Good. Moving on.

Stephen Hough is a one-of-a-kind musician,

O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

so spectacularly good that you leave one of his performances thinking, “I wish I could hear this man play the piano every day.”

O ye Angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

... Hough’s performance of Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor qualified as a most lucid poetic commentary on one of the most poetic pieces of music ever composed.

I like the piece, too. Click here. But it can’t be as poetic as this: Click here.

O ye Heavens, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Often, his tone was translucent, suffused with mystery.

O ye Waters that be above the Firmament, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Always, he played with absolute clarity and control, focusing energy in and through each note.

O all ye Powers of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

At times, he played with a predatory power, carrying the entire Russian National Orchestra on his back.

O ye Sun and Moon, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

It was a transfixing performance by a pianist who towers over many of the better-known soloists on the circuit.

O ye Stars of Heaven, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Utterly in command and at ease, Hough even wore a pair of shiny red slippers, in Technicolor contrast to the all-black attire of every other musician on stage.

O ye Showers and Dew, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

He defined the performance.

O ye Winds of God, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Yet the [orchestra’s] imperfections somehow grew less noticeable, definitely less important, as the perfection of Hough’s performance asserted itself.

O ye Fire and Heat, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

His opening passages had that translucence about them, as if arriving from a dream.

O ye Winter and Summer, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

A deep mood began to well up as Hough’s otherworldly musings ebbed, flowed and intensified to a red heat...

O ye Dews and Frosts, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

By the midpoint, he was drawing the orchestra into Brahms’ world.

O ye Frost and Cold, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

The Adagio that follows is among the most beautiful movements ever composed by anyone.

What was the thing about worshiping a false idol?

O ye Ice and Snow, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Brahms may have intended it as a portrait of Clara Schumann, pianist and wife of the composer Robert. Hearing it, you can imagine the love Brahms felt for her, and that love seemed to move through Hough’s fingers.

Gross.

O ye Nights and Days, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Towards the movement’s end, his ascending tremble-flutter was the sound of angel wings.

O ye Light and Darkness, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Each of the pianist’s phrases was a line of poetry, whether snowflake-delicate or hammered home at a gallop and without a false note to boot.

O ye Lightnings and Clouds, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.

What a performance!

O let the Earth bless the Lord : yea, let it praise him, and magnify him for ever.

And ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

How about Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony? It was finished by another guy, Safronov, right? How’d that go?

The new finale wears out formulaic cadences and bulked-up fragments, snatched from other Schubert works. Safronov’s intentions are admirable, maybe audacious, but while he has studied and knows Schubert’s moves, he can’t re-create [sic] the master’s magic. Who could?

Ooh! (immediately raises hand)

I think I know!

But I don't know what a "tremble-flutter" is.
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