Pianist Alexander Korsantia’s faculty recital at the New England Conservatory (NEC) on Sunday afternoon in Jordan Hall once again showcased his superb intelligence and sensitivity. The program featured works by Schubert, Haydn, and Stravinsky, highlighting Korsantia’s versatility and profound musical understanding.
Schubert’s Sonata in G Major (D. 894)
Schubert’s Sonata in G Major (D. 894), one of the composer’s greatest late works, doesn’t receive the exposure it deserves—perhaps due to its 40-minute duration. With all repeats observed, as Korsantia meticulously did, the first movement alone extends to 17 minutes. Omitting these repeats would cause this magnificent music to lose its center of gravity. The opening movement is particularly challenging to convey effectively; Robert Schumann, who called the piece Schubert’s “most perfect sonata,” warned that “most pianists lack the imagination to solve its riddles.”
Korsantia certainly possesses the requisite imagination. He rendered the leisurely first movement in a manner that intrigued the listener without inducing languor. His command of sonorities ranged from the quietest pianissimos to thunderous fortissimos, all achieved without hardness. He seemed to caress the instrument much like the late Radu Lupu did in this sonata. The melodies unfolded as if they were living entities, singing together of their own volition. This movement, as well as the three that followed, seemed as if they were composing themselves.
When the work was first published in 1826, it bore the title of “Sonata Fantasy.” While the term seems most applicable to the expansive opening movement, all four movements are permeated by the kind of visionary unworldliness more characteristic of Schubert (and perhaps Schumann) than any of his Romantic contemporaries. The sonata appears driven by the power of phantasm rather than logical thought, creating a transcendent musical experience.
Haydn’s Sonata No. 23 in F Major
After the intermission, Korsantia delivered a superb account of Haydn’s Sonata No. 23 in F Major, a favorite of the legendary Vladimir Horowitz. In fact, Korsantia’s reading recalled that of the earlier master. The runs in the outer movements were lightning-fast, imbued with both fleetness and humor. He endowed the slow movement with ample colors and sly subtleties, and the trills that crown the movement could not have been more exquisite.
Stravinsky’s Petrushka Transcription
Korsantia concluded the recital with his own transcription of Stravinsky’s Petrushka. Stravinsky himself created a solo piano version, dedicated to Arthur Rubinstein, which, with its keyboard panache, conceals its orchestral origins so effectively that it seems crafted expressly for the piano.
In Korsantia’s personal take—running twice as long as the composer’s transcription and feeling more like the complete ballet—he occasionally shook a tambourine to recreate some of the lavish orchestral colors otherwise missing. Despite Korsantia’s spectacular pianism, this rendition did not resonate with this listener. The relentless hammering resulted in a sound that began to feel merely clamorous. His transcription did not, in my view, match Stravinsky’s own solution.
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