Sublime and Ridiculous: Ivo Pogorelich at Royal Festival Hall

Guest review by Tristan Jakob-Hoff

Whatever you may think of Ivo Pogorelich’s piano playing, there is no doubt you will think *something* about it. He’s not a pianist who inspires an indifferent shrug, nor a polite round of applause. With Pogorelich, you’re either with him, or against him.

I found my position wavering during his Royal Festival Hall performance on 24th February. There were moments where his eccentricities utterly overwhelmed the music, smothering it in a blanket of weirdness. Entire passages verged on – and frequently crossed the line into – incoherence. His slow tempos constantly felt like they would break off and stop altogether. Faster sections were often magicked into slow sections, seemingly just to see what would happen.

So: infuriating, yes. But this is Pogorelich. We know this about Pogorelich. This is why the RFH was only about three-quarters full for a pianist who would once have sold it out easily.

The thing is, sometimes all those mannerisms and bizarre quirks coalesce into something magical. And that happens more frequently than we might have been led to believe by his reviews over the last decade or so. Those moments where he hits just the right wavelength and makes you feel like you’re wandering around inside the music, gazing at the melodies and counter-melodies and harmonies and rhythms as though they were exhibits in an art gallery. In these moments, you notice things you’d never noticed before, discover a hundred shades of pianissimo you never knew existed, comprehend the most obscure of connections between notes. Those moments can revitalise even the mangiest of warhorses.

Other times, of course, he misses that special wavelength completely and turns in a clunky, thumping performance of Stravinsky’s ‘Three Movements from Petrushka’, or a disjointed, unmusical opening movement of the Schumann ‘Fantasy in C’. It’s telling that his best performance tonight was of the Brahms ‘Paganini Variations’, whose short contained little blocks of music offered few opportunities for epic self-indulgence.

And yet, I think it is the strange and beautiful closing movement of the Schumann I will most remember from this evening. It’s a piece I sort of play myself (slowly, with many wrong notes and retakes) and yet it felt thoroughly unfamiliar in Pogorelich’s hands, as if he were inventing it there and then. It’s that sense of spontaneity and discovery that makes Pogorelich a special artist. Yes, he may frequently discover utterly perverse new ways to play something. But even those failures are fascinating, and worth hearing.

In an age where young musicians are hewing ever closer to a uniform, idealised style of performance – as exemplified by whatever classic recordings they’ve heard growing up – here is a resolutely individual performer who sounds like he’s never heard another pianist in his life. We need more Pogorelichs in our world, in all their perverse, egotistical, infuriating and ultimately scintillating glory.

Tristan Jakob-Hoff is a freelance writer and critic based in London. He plays the piano not nearly as well as he would like to.


  1. Señor Tristán, en primer lugar, muchas gracias por la reseña y perdón por no saber inglés lo suficiente como para escribir esto, ojalá sepá usted español .
    Creo que hay gente que va a recitales y conciertos un poco tensos.
    ¿Os emocionó, sí o no? . A mi me entusiasma Pogorelich porque me emociona y esa emoción me hace pensar. Aunque solo puedo escucharle cuando viene a España.
    También me entusiasman la pasión de los comentarios ya sean a favor o en contra. Así que Enhorabuena

  2. I’m disappointed to read the word ridiculous applied to any piano performance , and when applied to the one given by Pogorelich last night it seems ill considered .
    As for the description of the Stravinsky pieces as being ‘thumped’ , I’m blown away by the effrontery of this review.
    Sorry , rant over but so many of us loved the concert , in particular the Stravinsky ,and hope he will return to give many more in UK.

  3. A much more sensitive appraisal than the review in today’s Guardian by Andrew Clements. I wonder if the Brahms was a work Ivo Pogorelich learnt with his deceased wife and mentor as here the playing was palpably on another level. More like a flashback to his earlier self. For example: Variation 4 of book 2 was gorgeous but resisted the tendency to go off at a tangent which tends to be his modus operandi.

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