A review of the concert on September 16, 2012 by David Beech.
On Sunday evening, September 16, 2012, at Le Petit Trianon, San Jose, the Cleveland-born and Juilliard-educated pianist Spencer Myer launched the new season of the Steinway Society the Bay Area in magnificent style, with an exceptional combination of musicianship and technical command. In a largely romantic program, the intelligence of Myer’s playing was in evidence throughout, as the moods ranged from the quiet and reflective to the impassioned and imposing. The musical ideas were conveyed as though physical difficulties were non-existent, with the rhythm of a phrase or the singing line of a melody or the contours of a harmonic progression never pulled out of shape by complexities elsewhere on the keyboard.
In a few well-judged remarks, the pianist showed himself equally articulate when communicating in English. He explained that he chose Haydn’s attractive but short two-movement Sonata No. 54 in G major, Hob.XVI/40, to begin the program because of his love for the composer’s music, and a feeling that Haydn was underrated by pianists, and underrepresented in today’s programs. Myer’s love for the elegance and wit of the music showed through, with subtle and polished playing, but the composer was still short-changed by the selection of a minor work instead of, say, the substantial E flat Sonata, Hob. XVI/52. Incidentally, in describing the Haydn sonata, and the other works that followed, the program notes by Carl Cunningham were finely written.
With Book I of Debussy’s Préludes, we entered another world, and we were treated to a spell-binding performance of these twelve impressionistic miniatures. Myer has a fine ear, and seemed to revel in listening with us to the many long sustained tones — “sounds and perfumes turn in the evening air” as Debussy quoted from Baudelaire at the bottom of the fourth piece. We had already enjoyed the languorous waltz of Delphic dancers, the ambiguous whole-tone Voiles (veils or sails?), and the trembling wind in the plain with brief forte interjections. The “Hills of Anacapri” are portrayed as a little livelier and more angular, but the movement has a surprisingly violent ending, from p to fff in four bars, and Myer gave a marvelous zing to the last five notes near the top of the keyboard. After this, nothing is quite the same. “Steps on the snow” are only the calm before the storm, since “What the West Wind Saw” is marked as lively and tumultuous, right from its pp beginnings, and soon launches into noisy pianistic virtuosity, which Myer handled with ease. “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair” was effective in its simplicity, although it could perhaps have been more delicate — we will return later to discuss Myer’s playing of quiet passages. His technique is obviously well suited to playing in larger halls, and his dynamic level here tended to be a notch above the written markings. After a witty “Interrupted Serenade,” the profoundly calm start of “The Sunken Cathedral” led to hugely cavernous chords in parallel motion before fading away to deep otherworldly rumbles and rest. The inventive “Puck’s Dance” and affectionate take-off of “Minstrels” brought to a close this satisfying (and relatively rare) performance of the whole of Book I. Although these preludes do not follow strict patterns of key signatures like the sets of Bach or Chopin, the coherence in this published order proved successful.
After the intermission, we heard moving performances of Liszt’s great expressions of love inspired by Petrarch’s Sonnets 47, 104 and 123. In the first of these, Myer played the opening gently syncopated melody with a sublime flow, as though he were the tenor in the original version of the piece, giving his whole attention to this line while someone else played the accompaniment. The middle piece has the widest range of the three, extending to passages of grandeur and rapidity, while the third is quiet and full of wistful admiration, closing with almost unbearable suspense as after seven failed attempts, it seems that a happy ending is not to be — but finally, in ppp, after overreaching to B flat and hanging there interminably, the tonic A flat sounds. The special significance of this movement in Myer’s recital was that it seemed to be the point at which his soul was in the p, pp, and ppp. He did not want to play any of it louder, and was content to let the music speak for itself. Prior to this, he had often produced very soft sounds for contrast as special effects, or in terrace dynamics where an intricate accompaniment would be played perfectly evenly although much more quietly, so there was no doubt about the lightness of touch at his disposal, only about the commitment to the added dimension of gentleness and unassertive sharing with the audience.
Next came three pieces by Albéniz – the last book of his Iberia. I was especially looking forward to hearing what Spencer Myer would make of these, as I had never felt they had quite the originality and variety of most of the earlier pieces of Iberia. This impression was even reinforced by listening again to Alicia de Larrocha’s recordings of them, so I am happy to report that my estimation of the works was raised by Myer’s consummate performance. By this time he was fully into his stride, and played Málaga with fine spirit and enough light and shade to overcome some sameness in the material. By contrast, Jerez has much internal variety (and perhaps holds the record for the number of pppp markings in one piece), and this was another memorable period when Myer allowed the piano to speak to us with a winning humility. Then in the simple high spirits of Eritaña, the rhythmic drive that he sustained, whatever the flamboyance of the piano writing, was of the very highest class.
For a grandstand finish, we were treated to Moszkowski’s _Caprice Espagnol_, Op.37, beginning with a rondo theme using rapid repeated notes, and venturing into all manner of Spanish-style pyrotechnics as devised by a German-Polish virtuoso. The agility and accuracy of this prestidigitation were remarkable, and led to a standing ovation.
One may wonder (as Myra Hess once did after playing Beethoven’s Op.111) “What could one play after that?” but Spencer Myer had some well-chosen encores up his sleeve. First, he played the Bach-Siloti B minor Prelude delightfully, with varied expression in the repeat. Next came MacDowell’s _Hexentanz_, with its light staccato and delicious throwaway ending, and finally we were carried away by Earl Wild’s over-the-top version of Gershwin’s I Got Rhythm — which Spencer Myer certainly has in spades.
