Maurizio Pollini
Pollini Prospettive - 1 Concerto di Brahms

January 5, 2008, first concert of the "Pollini-Prospettive".

Maurizio Pollini plays Brahms' first.

Maurizio Pollini is not the first nor will he be the last pianist to perform Brahms' Concerto in D minor op.15 at the Parco della Musica in Rome.

Since 1930, pianists like Zecchi, Rubinstein, and Horowitz have graced the stage of Santa Cecilia, a very young Lya De Barberiis and then Silvestri, Sergio Perticaroli, and Gieseking, Fischer up to Lupu and the recent Zimerman and Zacharias.

Yesterday, on the day of his 65th birthday, Pollini.

I KNOW! I know many will be ready to say that in the case of Maurizio Pollini, I went to his concert ready to see the glass half empty and with my pen dipped in arsenic.

I was already familiar with the 'pollinian' version of Brahms' concerts and already at the time, it neither satisfied nor convinced me. However, if last night he had played me even ONE single bar that was musically beautiful and, indeed, convincing, I would have come out happy, primarily for him.

And indeed, although annoyed by the title 'Pollini-Prospettive' (perspectives from where? from what? and why only Pollini's and not also 'Volodos, Sokolov, Zimerman,' aren't they all 'perspectives,' personal visions that are proposed? Let it pass), I was saying, although annoyed, Pollini demonstrated, despite the passing of the years, to have on his side the undeniable technical skills that have always characterized his performances, but it wasn't on those that I had doubts, what didn't bother me enough to make me less 'indisposed' towards an interpretation or 'perspective' once again uncontrollably anxious, not very communicative and not musically convincing, was the end of the second movement of the concerto as well as the beginning of the first ballade by Chopin: his encore.

And let's start with the encore: it is always an extremely personal choice and usually falls on a piece to which one is very attached; however, it is really against every law of 'stage etiquette' to keep the orchestra sitting there, still and waiting for almost ten minutes. In a concert, there is no 'the' 'protagonist' even if it is a recital; every public performance comes from the collaboration-production of those who play, in this case, play with the pianist, those who conduct, and those who listen.

And then, THAT Concerto with its sometimes hypertrophic expanded form, the constant construction and elaboration of themes and motives, the overwhelming richness of musical events that follow one another without any pause in a palette of colors never so rich and varied before Brahms, THAT concerto, as ambitious in dimensions as a complex formal and tonal organization, made even more intense by a deep emotional expression, is a Concerto in which the virtuosity of the soloist is completely subordinated to the symphonic elaboration, and above all, it is a Concerto where the relationship between SOLOIST and ORCHESTRA is not equal nor confrontational, it is dialectical and above all dialogical.

So why such a long encore? Why not also perform an orchestral one then?

Well, in that single end of the II Tempo and in that single beginning of the I Ballad, Pollini even demonstrated a certain sensitivity as well as that beautiful timbre and quality of sound that I vainly sought in the previous minutes. Certainly penalized by the acoustics of the hall, which in many places was unfortunate, his sound often remained one and not multifaceted: a 'mezzo forte' sometimes a little stronger, other times a little less, but always a uniform mezzo forte, with some sforzando and accents of a soloist never really integrated with the color and the Orchestral Thought. What a pity.

Too little. So little that it will soon be forgotten in front of the rush to play hide and seek with an orchestra that instead, impeccable already in the first part dedicated to Bruno Maderna, then from the first 'fateful' notes of the Exposition, was able to find the compactness and the right color that suits Brahms' music; forgotten in front of his usual anxiety that in addition to rushing makes him not close the phrases, juxtaposing them until they seem non-musical, lacking natural cantabilità, as in the II theme of the I tempo, sometimes smudging, and proposing 'arbitrary' readings of rhythmically written passages in a certain way. Throughout the duration of his mad dash, I wondered if I remembered wrong and rather than in 6/4, the I tempo wasn't written in a fast and anxious 6/8 at times metronomic, just as I wondered if people who acclaimed him at the end really think 'that' was a beautiful performance of Brahms. Do you play well because you hit all, or almost all, the right notes? Because the 'piece' is difficult? Or because IT's Pollini?

In my 'badly warped' view, there is no 'Urtext,' an original and unique text of interpretation, but all have a right to citizenship: as subjective, they are 'own' and personal but must in any way meet the criterion of expressive 'communicate'.

To let a vision, an inner world, an open-eyed dream be glimpsed.

If the 'communicative' qualities for most diverse reasons in an artist are not or are no longer particularly evident, like a speaker who suddenly found himself mute, at least propose something not forcibly original or different from what is written, but coherent, convincing, and truly 'perspective'.

In this Concerto of perspective, in the sense of 'futuristic and not potential', I heard only the wonderful music of the Adagio that bears the words 'Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini' a clear allusion by Brahms to the death of his friend Schumann and the thematic affinities with the melody of the Benedictus' of Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, but played halfway between Schoenberg and Baglioni.

So it is, if you like.

Not to me, I don't like a music that isn't Music.

And yet this allowed me to appreciate even more the 'Music' made in a 'Salon' almost of times gone by, where, in Roberto and Lucia's house, musicians from everywhere gather, performers, students, simple enthusiasts; where everyone 'expresses themselves' truly putting themselves on the line; where everyone shares their talents and Music is lived, played, and received as a 'gift' because it is the gift of the 'self' of that moment and where I listened to one of the most genuinely heartfelt, emotional interpretations of Chopin's Prelude op.28 no.4 made just by Roberto, who in life is a lawyer, to then amuse myself with the improvisations of music made and loved in all its aspects, from Jazz to Lounge, from their TRIO RAGIO DI SOUL. To them, I say thank you.

Once upon a time, after a concert like last night’s, I would have come home devoid of energy, disappointed, and even angry.

Pollini can continue to 'play' as he wants and people can continue to think he makes Music. He only plays a part. As for me, I consider it a gift to have met people who allow me always to remember the meaning of the words 'communicating ideas and emotions', communicating oneself: PLAYING.