Peter Donohoe (image credit: Susie Ahlburg)

Tchaikovsky – Scherzo à la Russe, Op. 1 No. 1 Intermezzo in E flat minor, Op. 1 No. 2

Prokofiev – Sonata No. 1 in F minor, Op. 1

Bartók – Rhapsody, Op. 1

Schumann – Abegg Variations, Op. 1

Berg – Sonata, Op. 1

Brahms – Sonata No. 1 in C major, Op. 1

Peter Donohoe, piano

Acclaimed British pianist Peter Donohoe opened the 2012-13 season of concerts hosted by Sutton House Music Society with a coruscating performance of music by Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Bartók, Schumann, Berg and Brahms. Intriguingly entitled ‘Opus 1’, the programme featured early works by these great composers. As Peter said in his introduction, ‘Opus 1’ does not indicate the first ever piece written by the composer, but rather the first published work. These works are revealing in that they all contain fascinating pre-echoes of the composers’ later music, as well as highlighting the diversity, originality, and future maturity of these composers. The theme of the concert also enabled contrasting composers – Tchaikovsky and Berg, for example – to be programmed together. The first half of the concert was all Slavic composers, the second all Germanic.

“My first published piece was Scherzo à la russe, Op. 1″ so wrote Tchaikovsky in a letter to Nadezha von Meck, in 1879. Dedicated to the great pianist Nikolai Rubinstein (who famously rejected Tchaikovsky’s first Piano Concerto as unplayable), the Scherzo a la russe and Impromptu in E-flat minor both show evidence of the composer’s later style, particularly that of the Nutcracker ballet score.

The Scherzo, based on a Ukrainian song which the composer heard from the gardeners at Kamenka, the home of his sister, begins innocently enough, with a naive melody, executed with a disarming simplicity by Donohoe, before moving into more chorale-like territory. The return to the opening theme is marked by cascades of octaves, all handled with ease. The Impromptu, meanwhile, marked ‘Allegro Furioso’, opens in a brash, excitable gallop, cast in unremitting quaver triplets, which gives way to an arresting, Chopinesque middle section played with great expression and beauty of tone.

Anyone familiar with Prokofiev’s later works, striking for their uncompromising, exciting and original harmonic landscapes, could be forgiven for mistaking the Sonata No. 1 for a work by Glazunov (one of Prokofiev’s professors). Although not part of the composer’s juvenilia, nor does it hint at his later style: rather, it is a showcase of the composer’s pianistic skills. It was not especially well-received, and was attacked by modernists for being “too orthodox”, perhaps because it shows the influence of composers such as Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninov, Busoni, and, above all, Anton Rubinstein (a favourite composer of Prokofiev’s mother). Scored in a single movement in rigid sonata form (exposition, development, recapitulation), it suggests an unwritten second and third movement, and has a sweeping lyricism with a strong emphasis on melody. It was played with flamboyance, with bright fortes and passages of great warmth, intensity and romance.

Bartok’s Rhapsody Opus 1 is full of premonitions of his later works – bass drones, open fifths, folk melodies and dances – yet has a strong affinity with Liszt in its thunderous virtuosic passages, sweeping scale and its masterful juxtaposition of the ethereal (in the opening Adagio) with the ominous in the boisterous and colourful second section. It was performed with great involvement and commitment, Donohoe highlighting perfectly the contrasting moods, colours and textures of the music, including some wittily executed glissandi and hushed pianissimo passages.

Schumann’s ‘Abegg Variations‘ felt like more familiar territory, with arabesques and fiorituras, and cantabile melodies redolent of Chopin. Despite its opus number, this work was neither Schumann’s first work, nor his first set of variations. With its letter-to-pitch derivations, the music prefigures ‘Carnaval’, and the later fugues on the name BACH. Each variation was executed with delicacy of touch, a rich mellifluous tone, and sparkling flourishes.

The Berg Sonata, like the Prokofiev, is cast in a single movement, with an exposition that includes two contrasting themes, a development section in which the themes are expanded, a recapitulation, in which the themes are restated, and a plaintive coda. It makes use of many tonal suspensions, which create some particularly haunting passages. The work is poignant and passionate, with a dramatic intensity, which Donohoe maintained throughout, playing with great commitment, at times as if for himself alone.

In contrast, the Brahms Piano Sonata opens with a thrilling opening gesture reminiscent of Beethoven’s ‘Hammerklavier’ Sonata, offset by a tender second theme, which prefigures the composer’s later writing for the piano. The slow movement is tender and songful, the Scherzo all Beethovenian swagger and rhythmic vitality, while the Finale reprises the ‘Hammerklavier’ idea in a dancing Rondo theme with contrasting episodes. In it, Donohoe demonstrated his ability to switch seamlessly between power and resolution, and warmth and lyricism. This was truly a thrilling finale to a fascinating, insightful and deeply involving concert.

Sutton House Music Society is based at Sutton House, a Tudor house run by the National Trust in Hackney, east London. Concerts are held in Wenlock Barn, an intimate recital space which allows audience to feel very connected and involved with the performer/s. The Music Society hosts a varied selection concerts, offering audiences the chance to hear top-flight artists as well as up-and-coming talents. For details of forthcoming concerts, please click here.

The next concert at Sutton House is on Sunday 18th November and is given by pianist Elena Riu. Elena will feature in a Meet the Artist interview ahead of her concert.

My Meet the Artist interview with Peter Donohoe

Sutton House Music Society website

John Reid

Who or what inspired you to take up the piano, and make it your career?

First of all, the piano chose me. And secondly, I’ve always felt myself to be a musician who happens to play the piano. Both of these clichés seem to have more than a grain of truth in them in my case. Music has been at the heart of my life for as long as I can remember, but there was a period of over twenty years between the time my parents would put me in front of the record player or radio to keep me quiet and my first day as a postgraduate student at the Royal Academy. My childhood and formative years were spent in the world of church music; as a cathedral chorister, playing the organ, dabbling in conducting, trying to be a good academic. I was a decent all-rounder.

I made the decision to pursue further piano studies, quite consciously, as an adult. I had always been drawn to the keyboard instruments because I could be self-contained, playing multiple musical lines and harmonies without the need for anyone else to be involved. The irony is that I was compelled, in the end, to concentrate on the piano because I found the organ such a lonely and dauntingly mechanical instrument – and I needed to make colours, dynamics and nuances with my own fingers, in close proximity to other living and breathing musicians.

Who or what were the most important influences on your playing? 

Singing was at the centre of my life as a child. That’s why accompanying singers has always felt the most natural thing in the world to me: my default setting, as it were. I was bitten by the Lieder bug later on and, of course, I’ve had to learn a good deal about the technicalities of playing with singers; but I’ve had to work much harder when taking on other, far less instinctively-felt, roles as a performer. I still tend to think of a vocal ideal when I’m learning all but the most thornily anti-lyrical pieces: how a singer might phrase, or colour, this or that idea.

I’ve been very lucky with my teachers: most have appeared like good angels at exactly the right time for me to absorb their particular ideas and qualities. I also owe a huge debt to the many wonderful colleagues with whom I’ve worked – I’ve learnt something from every single one of them.

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far? 

When you start out as a musician, nobody will ever tell you that it’s an easy life. And the doomsayers are right, of course! But, if you can rise above the insecurities and uncertainties of what can often seem a cruel and arbitrary profession, then challenges can energise and inspire. Finding a reasonable work-life balance requires constant reappraisal for any freelancer: you’re either too busy, or panicking if the diary looks blank. In terms of performing and preparing for concerts, I tend to find the moments of anticipation the hardest. How will I ever learn this music for this time next week? Will I have the courage to walk out onto the stage (even with the most sympathetic colleague by my side)? Taking the suitcase out from under the bed is never fun. But once I’ve played the first note, or have closed the front door, I tend to be fine.

Which performances/recordings are you most proud of?  

I’ve never listened to my few recordings beyond the final edit. There will be an interesting psychological reason why I have a horror of doing so, I’m sure. I feel very proud of some of my performances, although I suspect that these concerts take on a kind of retrospective glamour in the memory. Generally speaking, the tougher the preparation (for whatever technical or musical reason), the greater the sense of achievement at the end of the performance. This summer, for example, I played the Korngold Suite for piano left hand and string trio at Wigmore Hall: a remarkable piece, but not one I would have ever chosen to learn (for fear of its difficulties). But I accepted the challenge, the months of work paid off, and even my right hand forgave me in the end…

A handful of times, when I have felt totally connected to the music, the adrenaline has kicked in during performance and I’ve thought, fleetingly: Yes! This is why I do it!

Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in? 

It tends be easy to understand why the prestigious venues develop the reputation that they do. And it’s always a pleasure to play on a wonderful instrument in a hall with a glorious natural sound; indeed, it’s much, much harder to give of your best on a sub-optimal or anodyne piano in an unforgiving acoustic. But, in my experience, it’s the quality of listening from the audience which determines (strongest of all) whether or not a concert might fly; and the most responsive and open audiences are not necessarily to be found at the ‘ideal’ venues.

Favourite pieces to perform? Listen to? 

One of the reasons why I would never wish to concentrate exclusively on one area of expertise or repertoire is that I would miss everything that I wasn’t specialising in: the grass would always be greener on the other side. I would never wish to be without the Mozart concertos on the one hand, or the songs of Schubert and Wolf on the other. Having spent ages not missing playing alone one bit, I now hanker after learning vast tracts of the solo repertoire – and the several lives needed in order to achieve that goal. But I don’t believe in reincarnation, so some music – like the 48 – will almost certainly, and regrettably, remain private practice material, if that.

My listening history, viewed chronologically, would come across as being somewhat quirky; I first became obsessed by Wozzeck when I was sixteen or thereabouts, but I only discovered Traviata and Steely Dan about five years ago. These days, it’s hard to find time to listen to music regularly, but I hope that my tastes are more discerning and wide-ranging in spite of (or as a result of) my relative selectiveness.

Who are your favourite musicians? 

I’m drawn to artists who risk intimacy even in large concert halls, who draw you in, who challenge any preconceived ideas that you might have about the music (or them), and who command your attention from first note to last.

I don’t listen much to piano music, although I hear recordings by Arrau, Gilels, Lupu, Barenboim (also live) Argerich, Nelson Freire and Geoffrey Parsons, hoping that I might absorb something from their playing as if by osmosis – quite a vain thing to do, come to think of it! I listen avidly to singers in all kinds of repertoire. I’ve become fascinated by the string quartet repertoire, largely through my wife who is a wonderful amateur violist and chamber musician. I’ve heard so many evenings of wonderful music making direct from our living room; these players come directly from the office, hungry to play late Beethoven quartets. That’s inspiring!

What is your most memorable concert experience? 

This is an impossible question to answer in brief. Certain experiences from last Autumn, however, will always remain with me: playing Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Disappeared at the King’s Place Festival, and then hearing and seeing (in close succession) Boulez and the Ensemble Intercontemporain in Pli Selon Pli and Abbado and the Lucerne Festival Orchestra in Bruckner 5.

On another note, I could write a book about numerous carry-on style exploits at concerts, especially incidents relating to page-turners: memorable experiences for all the wrong reasons…

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians? 

To develop an exceptionally thick skin for the practical side of being a musician, and as thin a skin as you can bear for the creative side. To be open to inspiration from wherever it might come. To find a balance between work and play during the necessary long hours at your instrument. To know your musical values, but to know when and how to be flexible. To go into the profession with aims other than being rich and famous. To develop some long-term objectives, while tearing up the five-year plan. To have integrity.

What are you working on at the moment? 

I’m co-curating a series for the Britten centenary at King’s Place in February 2013. Over the course of three concerts (and a few talks), we’ll be exploring some of Britten’s lifelong preoccupations (his pacifism, his work as pianist, festival director and conductor at Aldeburgh) through his own music and the composers that he championed, alongside a handful of new works from representatives of the post-Britten generations in the UK.

Otherwise, I have a large pile of music by the piano, ready for learning or revising.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? 

Standing on top of a mountain, having climbed it: that moment when the clouds part and you see the view.

John Reid will be performing at the Music at Malling Festival, which runs from 27th-30th September. Further details here.

 

John Reid’s career to date has shown him to be a pianist of notable versatility and range, with wide experience as an outstanding chamber musician, song accompanist, soloist and exponent of new music. 

Current and recent projects have included a Brahms and Schumann series with The Sixteen in London, Manchester and Bruges; recitals to mark the centenary of Kathleen Ferrier’s birth in Manchester and at The Sage Gateshead with mezzo-soprano Diana Moore, and at Wigmore Hall (in a programme devised by Graham Johnson); and collaborations with Maxim Rysanov (at Kings Place in London) and clarinettist Sarah Williamson (at Wigmore Hall). He is a regular guest with the Northern Sinfonia in the chamber music series at The Sage, and is a principal of the Aurora Orchestra, with whom he has appeared at the major recital venues in London, and at the BBC Proms and BBC Proms Plus series. 

John Reid studied at Clare College, Cambridge and at the Royal Academy of Music with Michael Dussek. As a student, he was the recipient of the Gerald Moore Award and the Kathleen Ferrier and Maggie Teyte prizes. He currently works with Christine Croshaw. 

Pianist Peter Donohoe (picture credit Sussie Ahlburg)

Who or what inspired you to take up you the piano and make it your career? 

I didn’t really make it my career. It kind of chose me, after many years of vacillating between instruments and other musical disciplines (like composition, musicology etc). Looking back to the beginning the most formative influences were countless people – in a kind of chronological order:

  1. My mother, who was an amateur pianist.
  2. My father, with whom I argued so much that it embarrasses me to remember, but he was right…. and I am still learning from his life lessons.
  3. Alan Taylor, who was the music teacher at my primary school.
  4. All my subsequent piano teachers (Alfred Williams, Donald Clarke, Derek Wyndham, Yvonne Loriod, Olivier Messiaen – more importantly than any pianistic or teaching qualities – they were all wonderful people.)
  5. My percussion teacher, Gilbert Webster – an extraordinary man, with enormous experience at the very highest level (amongst other things he had been the BBC SO’s principal percussionist during the Boulez era). He was the man who, more than any other, showed me how to practise – whatever the instrument.
  6. All my friends, who argued with me when I was convinced that a career as solo pianist was not for me, because I didn’t think I was good enough.
  7. My wife, Elaine, who is herself a professional pianist, critic and supporter.
  8. Martin Roscoe, my two-piano partner of 40 years, and our Best Man.
  9. All the conductors who invited me to work them in my early days, particularly James Loughran, Edward Downes, Charles Groves and Simon Rattle.

Who or what are the most important influences on your playing?

  1. The composers whose works I am trying to communicate to the public.
  2. The public itself.

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?

  1. Taking the plunge in my early 20s and deciding after all to be a solo pianist.
  2. Maintaining the natural sense of British taste and reserve at the same as learning to be emotionally open, and keeping the balance between the two.
  3. Playing Bach.
  4. Standing in for Daniel Barenboim playing Bach.

What are the particular challenges/excitements of working with an orchestra/ensemble? 

Exploring the characters of everyone one works with, and making the most of those characters, rather than going in with a fixed ideal and trying to make everyone fit in with it.

Which recordings are you most proud of?

I don’t know, because I don’t listen to them once I have swallowed my disappointments and approved them. I suspect that the live recording of the Busoni Concerto from the 1988 Proms might be the one I would be least disappointed with.

Do you have a favourite concert venue? 

Many in diverse places and for diverse reasons. If I had to choose – the Bolshoisal in the Moscow Conservatory – a great hall, with a great atmosphere, and many wonderful memories.

 Who are your favourite musicians? 

The ones I am working with at the time. That might seem like a pretentious answer, but it is a good way to look at things. There have been several over the years whom I could name, but better if their identity is not revealed for the sake of the others.

What is your most memorable concert experience?  

That depends on the reason it is memorable….

The one that was the most thrilling to listen to was possibly Richter and the Borodin String Quartet playing Brahms 2nd Piano Quartet in Moscow in 1987. Other contenders would be Bernard Haitink and the LPO playing Bruckner’s 8th Symphony, Charles Groves and the BBC SO playing Messiaen’s Turangalila Symphony with Jeanne Loriod and John Ogdon in the 1970 Proms, Emerson Lake and Palmer on tour in 1971, Reginald Goodall conducting Wagner at ENO in the 1970s, and a concert given by the Red Army Chorus in Moscow in 1983.

Of my own performances:

  1. The formative ones were Beethoven Piano Concerto 3 with the Chetham’s Symphony Orchestra when I was 12, singing in Bach’s Mass in B minor in Manchester Cathedral when I was 17, my London debut at the 1979 Proms and my US debut at the Hollywood Bowl in 1983.
  2. The most significant and life-changing was the final of the Tchaikovsky Competition in 1982.
  3. The most nerve-wracking was when I conducted Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring with the Hull Philharmonic Orchestra in 2007.
  4. The strangest, although very rewarding, was giving the first ever classical recital in Papua New Guinea in 2006.
  5. The one that went the least well is best left unmentioned, although there are many contenders!

What is your favourite music to play? To listen to?  

Far too many composers and pieces to mention. Much easier to think of pieces of music that I don’t like to play or listen to, and I daren’t name them for the sake of those who disagree – although there are actually very few.

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians/students?

  1. That we are all part of a culture that is far bigger than we are.
  2. That the greatness of the music and sharing that greatness with the listeners are both far more important than our commercial success and our ego.
  3. That we need to identify in our own minds exactly why we really want to be performing musicians, and what we feel is the true role of music in modern society.

What are you working on at the moment?  

Bach’s complete 48 Preludes and Fugues has been my main project since 2005, but there are many other less all-emcompassing and to some degree more familiar ones.

Where would you like to be in 10 years’ time?

Where I am now, but with more memories and experiences from which to draw.

In the years since his unprecedented success as Silver Medal winner of the 1982 7th International Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow, Peter Donohoe has built an extraordinary world-wide  career, encompassing a huge repertoire and over forty years’ experience as a pianist, as well as continually exploring many other avenues in music-making. He is acclaimed as one of the foremost pianists of our time, for his musicianship, stylistic versatility and commanding technique. Read Peter’s full biography here.

www.peter-donohoe.com

Peter Donohoe opens the autumn season at Sutton House Music Society with a concert on Sunday 21st October 2012.

www.shms.org.uk

Peter Donohoe’s Tchaikovsky Competition Diary

It’s thirty years since British pianist Peter Donohoe won joint silver medal at the 1982 Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. Hard to believe now that at that time Russia was still the Soviet Union, under the iron rule of an old guard communist leadership, when people’s rights and freedom was severely restricted and when visiting foreigners, such as Peter and his co-competitors, were treated with suspicion and were subjected to close surveillance.

To mark the thirtieth anniversary of his fine achievement, Peter has published his Tchaikovsky Competition diary on his blog. It’s a fascinating document, charting not just the highs and lows and daily anxieties of participating in an international competition, but also an insightful and entertaining glimpse behind the iron curtain. Despite the fact that we know the final outcome, this is a thrilling account.

Download the text here

[Peter Donohoe will feature in a future Meet the Artist interview in August]