A review of the concert on January 3, 2004 by Richard Scheinin.
Mercury News Ted Williams, the Hall of Fame slugger, used to squeeze rock-hard rubber balls to build up the muscles in his wrists. You have to wonder whether the pianist Jon Nakamatsu does the same; his playing ripples with strength. He rips through left-handed runs at surging tempos while executing high-wire passages in the right hand with an accuracy and confidence that can be stunning.
Nakamatsu is a powerhouse, but that’s not all. Sunday, at the second of two weekend recitals in San Jose, he would emerge from some furious passage in a piece by Brahms or Mendelssohn to quietly trace a melody, one note at a time. The melody would form slowly, drop by drop, each note full of concentration and feeling.
The concert at Le Petit Trianon was part of the excellent ongoing series of piano recitals sponsored by Steinway Society the Bay Area. This one felt extra-special: Nakamatsu, a South Bay native, was playing the hall’s brand-new, nine-foot Steinway D concert grand piano before a packed house that included his longtime teacher, Marina Derryberry, who took a bow before her star pupil took the stage.
Nakamatsu leaped right into the music, his left hand eating up the fast-moving sequences in the opening to Joseph Wölfl’s Sonata in E major, Op. 33 No. 3. It was a startling beginning, and the hometown crowd became so excited that it broke into cheers after the first movement.
This exuberant performance of a small gem by one of Beethoven’s contemporaries gave way to Robert Schumann’s “Papillons,” hazier and full of mercurial mood shifts. Nakamatsu had all the bases covered — fairy dustings of notes, galumphing dance rhythms, a sad midnight waltz — but there were moments when the textures became muddy at high volume. Possibly, Nakamatsu was feeling out the big new piano, which pumps a whole lot of sound into the small room.
Next, he surged into Mendelssohn’s Fantasy in F sharp minor, zipping through dangerous runs and filigree with crisp attack and dead-on accuracy. Once, Nakamatsu came to a hushed pause, set a single finger of his right hand on a key, then instantly relaunched into more blinding passage-work: No buildup required.
After intermission, Nakamatsu gave a startling performance of Brahms’s Sonata No. 3 in F minor. He leaped into the music, raging at both ends of the keyboard, then brought it down to a whisper, throwing himself into the passion of this monumental work.
The slow second movement was quiet and glowing, full of rosy ruminations and rippling chords, a high point of the night — so much emotion in music so delicate. The hall grew intensely quiet.
For the Scherzo, Nakamatsu became a ball of fire; he could waltz you out of your seat. The tremulous start to the last movement opened into the great resounding melody that sits at the center of the Finale. Nakamatsu’s fingers were darting everywhere — cross-handed chords, crazy counterpoint, but always pulling from a deep emotional well.
He didn’t want to leave. One of his encores was Frédéric Chopin’s Polonaise in A-flat Major, the “Heroic,” which Nakamatsu must have played a million times for Derryberry. Sunday, he played it with precision, confidence and, above all, spirit. His teacher must have been proud. The audience sure enjoyed it.
