BELLISSIMO BARTÓK
Was Béla Bartók his own worst enemy?
He composed his fiendishly difficult Piano Concerto No. 2, in which the world-premiere piano soloist was to be Béla Bartók himself.
The net result established him not only as prime modernist/technician/theoretician, ahead of his time composing thus in 1930-31, but also as a paragon super keyboard soloist.
It was a Béla Bartók weekend, with the S.F. Symphony in action under Esa-Pekka Salonen, and a block away at Herbst Theatre his chamber music as well.
I think the perspiration on the pianist’s forehead carried over to the patrons watching Pierre-Laurent Aimard working fingers to the bone as he read the concerto score and thundered out those harmonies and octaves by the—yes, score. Or, more accurately, by the thousands. He proved to be the right monsieur-professeur for the Herculean task in this sonic tornado of severity.
Among other things, composer Bartók was a master at puzzles and palindromes, constructing a symmetric pyramid shape to major sections, allegro-adagio-presto-adagio-allegro. The composer clearly marched to his own drummer, shocking in his audacity and cheeky, unsettling modernism.
The orchestra was in the groove Feb. 18, carrying off the adagio even when Esa-Pekka dropped his baton to his side and watched admiringly. This was his production, since the performance was being recorded via a dozen-plus microphones featuring his music, his musicians, his soloist.
All on stage were rewarded with a standing ovation by the full house, once again reflecting the willingness of the Davies Hall patrons to open up to something unfamiliar, even harsh, like the Second (which had been unheard here for six years, and never ever heard at most orchestras).
The patrons were rewarded with dessert in the form of the lengthy suite from Prokofiev’s ballet “Romeo and Juliet,” a meaty dessert at that, wound up here with such brutal force of brass as to undermine its impact.
Meanwhile, to amplify the Bartók theme, I took a weekend morning jaunt to the unusual series by the Alexander String Quartet, one of five such ensembles presented by S.F. Performances this month alone. The ASQ does insightful and entertaining forays once a month into 20th century music, never starchy, with Robert Greenberg spending half the concert with music research and quips that have built up a solid following, despite the 10 AM start.
The fare Feb. 18 offered Bartók’s String Quartet No. 2 (1918).
Bartók here reflected a widespread break with tradition: No romantic moaning/groaning, no four-movement requirement, spikier music, and immersion in European and Mediterranean village-music sources. Here he has glints of folk elements drawn from bagpipes in Bulgaria as well as sounds of Berber tribesmen in North Africa, woven into the fabric of his independent, nationalistic and neo-classical style. While the two outer movements are ruminative, at times suggesting a boat rocking in ocean swells, in the middle “disco inferno” (Greenberg’s term) his high-octane whirlwind turns intense and passionate, with pronounced accents, all in rondo form.
The long-enduring ASQ, a San Francisco institution, was undergoing metamorphosis. The viola slot had shifted prior to the pandemic as Paul Yarborough retired, replaced by David Samuel. And following suit this month, second violin perennial Frederick Lifsitz left abruptly, replaced by Yuri Cho for the rest of the season—so abrupt in fact that Ms. Cho’s name never even appeared in print.
With the on-going anchors of Zakarias Grafilo, violin, and Sandy Wilson, cello, the ASQ is weathering the shifting sands, and Greenberg’s seamless narrations do the rest.
ALEXANDER STRING QUARTET in 20th-century music, Saturday mornings at Herbst Theatre, San Francisco, under auspices of S.F. Performances. For info: (415) 392-2545, or go online, www.sfperformances.org
SAN FRANCISCO SYMPHONY, in Bartók, Prokofiev, Ravel, under Music Director Esa-Pekka Salonen, Feb. 17-19, Davies Hall, S.F. For info: (415) 864-6000, or go online, www.sfsymphony.org.
