No other way but up
August 25, 2004 | 12:00am
Two years ago, pianist Oliver Salonga, then 16, gave a recital at the CCP Little Theater. Last Saturday, he gave another at the F. Santiago Hall.
His playing of Bachs Partita No. 2 in C Minor was so vibrant, his dynamics so audaciously different and unpredictable, one felt one was listening to the work for the first time despite having heard it repeatedly in the past.
Excerpts of my review of Olivers earlier concert, which were quoted in the printed program, bear repeating: "Bachs Prelude and Fugue No. 3 in C Sharp Minor had crisp, sparkling tones produced by remarkably nimble fingers. The distinctive phrasing, the brio, the sense of drama made the piece sound fresh and yes, even contemporary. Yet the style unmistakably hewed to Bach." (Though it was another piece, the style of course remained the same.) Bach was even more exciting, more fascinating the second time around.
Beethovens sonatas are aptly described as the "most truly serious and profoundly thought-out works ever written for the piano they are symphonies for a solo instrument". The listeners conversance with Beethovens sonatas may have dulled his appreciation from them, and Olivers rendition of Sonata Op. 57 in F Minor revived this appreciation to a marked degree as the listener recognized, through the interpretation, its vast scope, breadth and range, its technical devices interjected with melodic passages.
Into the exuberant allegro assai, the soulful andante con moto, and the robust allegro non troppo, the pianist again infused a sense of urgency, of drama that filled the work with auditory surprises. The sonata throbbed with life, ardor and power, ending in swift double runs evenly executed.
In Ballade No. 1 in G Minor, Chopin was depicted as the poet of the piano, the cliché notwithstanding. The gamut from piano to forte, the dynamics bold, audacious and again infused with a sense of drama and urgency, the melodic lines surfacing compellingly indeed, Chopin himself, from his lofty perch, must have been pleased.
Schumanns Carnival, consisting of 22 pieces of varying lengths, was a kaleidoscope of portraits, moods, ideas and reflections, romantic in concept, florid in expression. Oliver rendered them with propulsion and impetuosity. (In the latter part of Carnival, there were two small, nearly undiscernible slips but these did not diminish from the highly impressive whole.)
There were three encores, a piece by Chopin, another by Rachmaninov both of which Oliver left unfinished and a third short work.
We shall be watching Oliver as he continues to develop his skills, deepen his artistry and sensitivity. In other words, as he achieves maturity. At the moment, the brilliant pianist stands very tall among his young peers.
His playing of Bachs Partita No. 2 in C Minor was so vibrant, his dynamics so audaciously different and unpredictable, one felt one was listening to the work for the first time despite having heard it repeatedly in the past.
Excerpts of my review of Olivers earlier concert, which were quoted in the printed program, bear repeating: "Bachs Prelude and Fugue No. 3 in C Sharp Minor had crisp, sparkling tones produced by remarkably nimble fingers. The distinctive phrasing, the brio, the sense of drama made the piece sound fresh and yes, even contemporary. Yet the style unmistakably hewed to Bach." (Though it was another piece, the style of course remained the same.) Bach was even more exciting, more fascinating the second time around.
Beethovens sonatas are aptly described as the "most truly serious and profoundly thought-out works ever written for the piano they are symphonies for a solo instrument". The listeners conversance with Beethovens sonatas may have dulled his appreciation from them, and Olivers rendition of Sonata Op. 57 in F Minor revived this appreciation to a marked degree as the listener recognized, through the interpretation, its vast scope, breadth and range, its technical devices interjected with melodic passages.
Into the exuberant allegro assai, the soulful andante con moto, and the robust allegro non troppo, the pianist again infused a sense of urgency, of drama that filled the work with auditory surprises. The sonata throbbed with life, ardor and power, ending in swift double runs evenly executed.
In Ballade No. 1 in G Minor, Chopin was depicted as the poet of the piano, the cliché notwithstanding. The gamut from piano to forte, the dynamics bold, audacious and again infused with a sense of drama and urgency, the melodic lines surfacing compellingly indeed, Chopin himself, from his lofty perch, must have been pleased.
Schumanns Carnival, consisting of 22 pieces of varying lengths, was a kaleidoscope of portraits, moods, ideas and reflections, romantic in concept, florid in expression. Oliver rendered them with propulsion and impetuosity. (In the latter part of Carnival, there were two small, nearly undiscernible slips but these did not diminish from the highly impressive whole.)
There were three encores, a piece by Chopin, another by Rachmaninov both of which Oliver left unfinished and a third short work.
We shall be watching Oliver as he continues to develop his skills, deepen his artistry and sensitivity. In other words, as he achieves maturity. At the moment, the brilliant pianist stands very tall among his young peers.
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