Last night in Davies Symphony Hall pianist Igor Levit gave the first of the three performances of the third of four programs he had prepared in his capacity as Artist-in-Residence for the 2022–23 season of the San Francisco Symphony (SFS). The program consisted entirely of Ferruccio Busoni’s Opus 39 piano concerto, given its first SFS performances. Busoni was no stranger to grand undertakings; and this work, completed in 1904, was definitely one of the grandest of them. The score requires not only a full orchestra but also a male chorus, which joins the instrumentalists for the final movement, given the title “Cantico.” The text is taken from the final scene of the verse drama Aladdin by the Danish poet Adam Oehlenschläger.
As a composer, Busoni often tried to achieve just the right balance between Apollo and Dionysius. On the Apollonian side, his piano concerto is structured as “symmetry within symmetry.” The original title page for the concerto even includes an illustration for the sort of symmetry he had in mind:
Busoni’s “architectural” visualization of symmetry in his piano concerto (taken from the original title page for the score, courtesy of SFS)
The concerto is structured in five movements, performed with minimal separating breaks. It begins with a “Prologo e Introito” and has a “Cantico” as a concluding coda. Within this framework, there are three full-length movements entitled “Pezzo giocoso” (playful piece), “Pezzo serioso” (serious piece), and “All’Italiana,” based on a tarantella. “Pezzo serioso,” in turn is in three “parts” preceded by an introduction. Needless to say, the title-page illustration is not so detailed but definitely captures Busoni’s emphasis on symmetry in his structure.
The music itself, on the other hand, is unmistakably driven by Dionysius. The pianist is required to jump through one hoop after another, each of which has its own set of challenges regarding both dexterity and expressiveness. Every now and then, the orchestra is given an opportunity to present its own take on the thematic material; but the overall structure is decidedly “all about the piano,” even when the male chorus adds its own solemn rhetoric to the mix. Mind you, there is a bit of irony lurking in the final line of the text: “Praising the divine, the poem is silent!” There is clearly no room for silence in Busoni’s Dionysian intensity; and both Levit and conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen could not have managed their dynamics any better, particularly when it came to keeping silence at bay!
This was a full-evening performance, lasting about 75 minutes. My own eyes alternated between the action up on stage and the listing of the movements in the program book to guide my way through the overall structure. It pretty much goes without saying that there was never a dull moment; and, when I could not always keep track of who was doing what in the ensemble, I could usually compensate by looking at the reflected images above the stage! In contrast to all that was there to be seen by both instrumentalists and pianists, the male chorus sang behind a thin curtain, suggesting that the voices themselves were other-worldly.
In spite of the many demands made on the soloist, Levit still had enough energy to provide an encore. He judiciously selected a “completely different” aspect of Busoni’s efforts. He played the solo piano transcription of Johann Sebastian Bach’s BWV 659 chorale prelude based on the hymn “Nun komm’ der Heiden Heiland” (come now, Saviour of the heathen), composed for organ with two keyboards and pedals. (This was one of the selections on Levit’s Encounter album.) This brought a calming influence that would send all of us on our way home with a quieter disposition!
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