An Igor Levit recital is no longer simply a recital but something like an event. The great German pianist came to Carnegie Hall last night. I have said “German” but maybe I should say a little more: Mr. Levit was born in the Soviet Union in 1987. He immigrated with his family to Germany when he was about eight.
He began his recital last night with a work by Hindemith: Suite “1922” (composed, in fact, in 1922). Composers worldwide were interested in music coming out of America. There are five movements in Hindemith’s suite. Three of them are “Shimmy,” “Boston,” and “Ragtime.”
Have you ever heard the Tahiti Trot? Shostakovich’s treatment of “Tea for Two”? Treat yourself.
I have written many thousands of words on Igor Levit’s playing and am out of them—words, that is. But I will type a few. Levit played his Hindemith with precision and rigor. Also sensitivity. He played, as always, with intensity—as though what he was doing was the most important thing in the world.
That “Shimmy” was fantastically characterful. The following movement, “Nachtstück” (“Night Piece”), was inward—so private, you felt almost guilty for listening. Later on in the suite, Levit was loud and ferocious, but he never pounded. Everything he did was properly pianistic.
A lot has been written about his mind. More should be written about his fingers. His technique is extraordinary. He has learned to do virtually whatever he wants with his fingers. His voicings are often subtle, yet detectable and meaningful.
“Touch” is a mysterious word—mysterious when applied to piano playing. What does it mean? It has to do with weight: how much weight you give a note, and the relation of that weight, that note, to others around it. Levit has this great gift (among others): touch.
He continued his program with Mahler. Since I am out of words, maybe I could quote something I wrote in June 2020. This was during the pandemic, and Levit was giving “house concerts”—recitals via Twitter, every night.
One evening, Igor Levit played Mahler. Mahler, who wrote essentially no piano music? What Levit played was a transcription of the Tenth Symphony, i.e., a transcription of the one movement that Mahler left complete, as he was working on the Tenth. The transcription is by Ronald Stevenson, “one of my great heroes,” said Levit. Stevenson was a Scottish composer, pianist, and writer who lived from 1928 to 2015. In Levit’s hands, this music was spooky, otherworldly—apocalyptic. I thought of Vers la flamme, the piano piece by Scriabin. It was written in the same period: 1914. (Mahler worked on his Tenth Symphony in the summer of 1910, and died the next May.)
When he was finished, Levit held his face in his hands for a long while. (Is this permissible, in the time of corona?) Then he got up to turn his recorder off.
Levit played this transcription last night. It was a powerful experience. Yet Levit had to contend with noises in the house—in Carnegie Hall, that is. Dropped canes, dropped phones; lots of coughs; comings and goings; talking. That was too bad.
After intermission, he played a single work: the Symphony No. 3 in E flat, “Eroica,” by Beethoven. What? Yes, he played the Liszt transcription. I was a little grumpy about this. “If you like that music, why don’t you play Beethoven’s Eroica Variations, which is actual piano music?”
Ladies and gentlemen, I acknowledge that the “Eroica” Symphony is a masterpiece, and a pivotal work in the history of music. But will you allow me to quote Dr. Johnson on Paradise Lost? “No man ever wished it longer.”
I’m glad Levit played the Liszt transcription. Every note. It was a phenomenal experience. I enjoyed it more than I have enjoyed many, many an orchestral performance of the symphony.
Levit was gigantic—symphonic, if you like—while remaining pianistic. He bore the sweep of the work in mind. The funeral march was sly, almost sinister. The Scherzo was virile and joyous—yes, virile and joyous, that typical Beethoven combination. The Finale had more puckishness and delight than I can ever remember hearing.
Lazy as I am, I will quote once more—from a piece I wrote in October 2020:
I’m not much of a ranker: This one’s best, this one’s second-best. Music is not tennis. We don’t rank them. A range of musicians have a great deal to give, and we value them all. But I think of a line that Dave Wasserman uses. He is an American political journalist who specializes in House races. On an election night, when he is ready to call a race, he says, “I’ve seen enough.” And then he says that Smith or Jones or whoever has won.
In that spirit, let me say, I’ve heard enough: Igor Levit is the greatest Beethoven pianist I have ever heard, on recording or in the flesh. No disrespect to Backhaus, Brendel, or anyone else. If Beethoven could hear what Levit is doing, I think he’d say, eyes wide, “Yes, that is what I have in mind.”
Going from the exalted to the mechanical, maybe I could note this: Last night, Levit used a computer tablet for the Mahler. (He had done without sheet music for the Hindemith.) Then, when it was time for the Beethoven, he used paper—sheet music on paper—and a page-turner. As pianists did of yore.
I was wondering what he would play for an encore. A Beethoven bagatelle? From the stage, Levit announced something, but I could not understand what he was saying. It’s curious: Musicians spend their lives communicating sounds to an audience. And almost none of them can announce an encore clearly and audibly. If they’re not going to do it right, they should forgo an announcement and simply play.
(You know who did it right? Artur Rubinstein. He did practically everything right.)
Levit played Brahms—the Intermezzo in E flat, Op. 117, No. 1. The greatest piece of piano music ever written. (I exaggerate a little.) Levit was sticking with the key of the “Eroica” (a good idea). And he played the intermezzo consummately. It was perfectly calibrated, perfectly shaped. And I had never heard so little pedal in it. Levit didn’t need it.
Look, we are lucky to be living in the time of Levit. Everyone will hail him as great when he is old or dead. But there is no need to wait. It can be acknowledged now.