Marc-André Hamelin (b.1961)
Variations on a theme of Paganini (2011)
My Feelings about Chocolate (2014)
Suite à l’ancienne (2019)
Barcarolle (2013)
Variation diabolique sur des thèmes de Beethoven (2020)
Pavane variée (2014)
Chaconne (2013)
Meditation on Laura (2011)
Toccata on L’homme armé (2016)
Marc-André Hamelin (piano)
rec. 2023, Henry Wood Hall, London
Hyperion CDA68308 [74]
As with many pianist-composers of the past, perhaps especially those of the golden age Marc-André Hamelin’s output for piano solo comprises both original works and transcriptions. He recorded several of his original works, his astonishing études among them, in 2010 (Hyperion Records CDA67789 review review) and other pieces, such as his Glazunov Petit adagio or startling cadenzas to Liszt’s second Hungarian Rhapsodie or Mozart’s C minor piano concerto can be found on other releases or broadcasts. Like earlier pianist composers Hamelin writes for his own technique and his staggering ability clearly leads to music that attracts superlatives whether or not it is to your taste but nothing in his canon is purely about note-spinning. There is drama, character, inventiveness and humour in this music and, in a nod to Hamelin’s vast and exploratory knowledge of repertoire, an acknowledgement of all that has gone before whether that is in warm-hearted tribute, sly references or his development of a style that has been growing and evolving since the earliest examples of keyboard music.
The first piece in the recital, the Variations on a theme of Paganini, is a perfect example of this. The theme is the familiar 24th caprice, so familiar indeed that Hamelin almost doesn’t bother with anything as straightforward as a presentation of the theme; the first notes we hear say OK, you all know this tune, let’s get down to business. Getting down to business in this case means building variations that began with Paganini himself taking in Liszt, Brahms, Rachmaninov, Lutoslawski, Mark Hambourg, Ignaz Friedman as well as more recent versions by Alexander Rosenblatt, Rafał Augustyn, Luc Baiwir and others – and that’s just some of the ones involving piano. Homages aplenty can be found amongst the variations; the quicksilver figuration of variation three hints at Alkan’s writing and a brief glimpse of Chopin is sighted in variation five alla barcarola before Beethoven makes an appearance alongside Brahms in variation seven. After the vivid confidence of these early variations the tenth is curiously deconstructed and abstract. As it happens it leads perfectly into variation eleven which is the gentle one. Gentle certainly but someone keeps changing the dial and the calm is interrupted by snatches of other music; was that a Charleston?… and that’s the end of a classical sonata…no, surely that’s a bossa nova…oh, and we’re back to the crashing chords of the sonata. No matter, the calm mood returns and winds us down to the big tune and what a corker it is; Paganini’s theme is inverted by Rachmaninov and re-inverted by Hamelin. The booklet here has variation 18 written with 18 crossed out and 13 written in; it took me WAY longer than it should have done to realise that this wasn’t a misprint in the review copy. After all this luxuriance the piece ends with a sparkling gigue that decides to introduce us to yet more Paganini, the rondo theme from his B minor violin concerto a.k.a. La campanella, yet another link this time between Hamelin and Liszt who both wrote an étude based upon the theme.
From the same year comes a piece that couldn’t be more different. Written for Jenny Lin and recorded by her on her wonderful album Get Happy (Steinway and Sons 30011 review) the Meditation on Laura, David Raskin’s song for Otto Preminger’s movie Laura. It is hypnotic and darkly atmospheric, the melody peeking though like a half remembered dream. It shares its daydream state with the very short sonata for piano titled My feelings about chocolate. The comments on the score are humorous – unctuous and dribbling with flavour, oh yeah, once more and on to mmm, there are still a few left and a final to hell with the diet – but the music is all velvety luxuriance in its gorgeous tone clusters – or should that be hazelnut clusters?
Further variations appear in the form of a Pavane variée based on a 1589 chanson by Thoinot Arbeau, Belle qui tiens ma vie perhaps more familiar as Pavan from Peter Warlock’s Capriol Suite. The theme is first worked contrapuntally, transforming Arbeau’s music much as Hamelin shaped Scarlatti into contemporary form in his sixth étude Homage to Domenico Scarlatti. It segues into a jazz variation with hints of Nikolai Kapustin and the third variation is seen as if through a mist, meditative impressionism with a hint of anxiety in the restless semitones. The energy of the following variations is released as quicksilver cascades of notes and almost brutish chordal passages. The theme is then painted in a series of gently discordant spread chords while the left hand freely flows beneath before a chorale that has luscious harmonics recreated in the upper registers. The final variation is all grand gestures, octaves spinning around the keyboard and general tumult and it is only the theme being hammered out in accented chords that seems to bring order and tranquillity to the potential chaos.
Still with variation form there is the Chaconne, commissioned as a gift for Elisabeth Schock; like Bach, Schumann and Shostakovich before him Hamelin writes identifying initials into the music, E, S, C, H equating to E, E flat (D sharp), C and B natural. The bonhomie of the Paganini variations, already tempered in the Pavane is forgotten in here in this dense and at times acerbic piece. There is some respite in the central section un poco piú lento, freddo, the chill certainly evident in its stark clarity. The contrapuntal music that follows is but a prelude to the tsunami of sound that Hamelin builds up before being replaced by the cold, rarefied atmosphere that closes the piece.
The Barcarolle was another commission, this time for the 2013 Ruhr Piano Festival where Hamelin gave the premiere in June of that year. Its four short sections are more changes of texture; the opening is calm and swaying – if I have translated ondeggiando correctly – and if it inhabits the darker world of Liszt’s late gondola pieces La Lugubre Gondola I and II as the booklet rightly claims the diaphanous curtain of notes is a far cry from Liszt’s sparing notation. The texture thins to nothing but soft chords high in the keyboard, making an agonisingly slow descent and release of tension before a suggestion of Offenbach’s famous Tales of Hoffmann barcarolle creeps in, otherworldly and disturbing, vanishing almost before you are aware of it.
The Suite in Old Style is quite a contrast to the Barcarolle and Chaconne. It six movements follow the style of a Bach dance suite and the German master is echoed in the Préamble, a warm-up, toccata like fantasy that, making full use of the modern piano’s range is nonetheless akin to the Chromatic Fantasie and Fugue. In the allemande the scalic motifs shine through a misty back drop that is more impressionistic than one might expect from the dance and the Corrente is a marvellous moto perpetuo whose steady accompaniment seems to want to join in the fun. I am reminded of the music box pieces of Ignaz Friedman or Emil von Sauer in the Air avec agréments and Nikolai Kapustin, whose Suite in the old style Hamelin has recorded (Hyperion Records CDA67433) in the humour and jazzy feel of the Gavotte. The gigue takes the Gavotte as its starting point; it’s a riotous dance that could be described as impish provided there were some extremely nimble imps to hand.
The humour of the suite is also found in the short Variation diabolique sur des thèmes de Beethoven which takes the listener on a whistle stop tour of Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations and beyond if I’m not mistaken. The Toccata on L’homme armé shares some of the Paganini Variations high profile or maybe that’s just me noticing pianists who play it on you-tube. Written for the 2017 Cliburn Competition it is a remorseless moto perpetuo based on the 15th century song that opens with the line L’homme armé doibt on doubter – the armed man is to be feared. I imagine fear is what many competitors felt when faced with this unforgiving work which, like everything on this disc, requires complete independence of fingers and an ultra-polished technique that can maintain focus in the many passages that, while no less forgiving, are to be played piano or pianissimo.
Thankfully in this recital that stretch the limits of keyboard technique we are in the company of a supreme master. In writing for himself Hamelin soon makes one forget that astonishing feats of legerdemain by opening up windows to fabulous landscapes of texture, colour and imagination. Though there is plenty of contrast here I am not sure that this is a recital for one sitting; the emotions unlocked range from laugh-out-loud joy to daunting discomfort with plenty in-between. On top of everything there is his ability to comfortably own discord without letting go of tonality and his is a major voice in modern piano repertoire. Hamelin never fails to astonish me, forever setting the bar higher than I thought possible and while I could sit here with a big bag of superlatives, dotting them freely throughout this review it is easier to say that if you have any interest in piano music buy this remarkable album.
Rob Challinor
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