an interjection – Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto no 3, opus 30
Rachmaninoff in 1921 (photographed by Kubey Rembrandt)
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for Barbara
a friend wrote today about memories of her
uncle, a violinist, insisting on the right
pronunciation of Rachmaninov, “with a soft
ch, as the c in cello. It drove my Dad crazy“,
she said, which led me in a response to both
his Second Piano Concerto, which she’d
specifically mentioned, and to what I
think is like comparing oracles with
oracles, his Third
it seemed a wonderful time to shed light
on some of the things I’ve been explaining
about Haydn
I spoke, even in a recent transmittal, about
the idea of extending tempi, from its
Classical four, to, through variations in a
single movement, more than four, and
found Haydn to be awkward, as he
experimented, unimpressive
listen to what Rachmaninov does, however,
in every movement here, take it from its
base through variations in tempi to leave
you reeling with emotion
the adagio, the middle movement, for
instance, starts off slowly, continues apace,
then finds itself embroiled in a whirlwind of
sentiment it finds difficult to control, before
returning, with a nearly audible sigh, to its
distressed slower, and defining, rhythm
there’s a story here, a narrative, and all the
permutations of a drama, a reckoning
watching also the performer, Cyprien Katsaris,
the soloist, and marvelling at the speed of his
fingers, I wondered, should a performer be
impeded by hir conductor, for not acquiescing
to untoward advances, for instance, a recently
significant consideration, raise the beat by one
point merely on the metronome, a novice might
be undone in a very minute, in a blur of
distraught acciaccaturas, arpeggios, and
discombobulated trills
a great player must consequently play the
piece in practice at a quicker pace to ensure
an immaculate, ever, presentation, the work
of a consummate, and immutable, artist
think about it, and watch, indeed marvel,
at this extraordinary performance
R ! chard