Recital at Carnegie Hall - November 25th 2006
The opening of Mr. Tierra’s Scriabin was like a balm for exhausted ears. He achieved a delicacy not even approached in the previous two hours and perfectly balanced the luminous main theme against Scriabin’s glistening accompaniments. The Prestissimo volando movement, with its notoriously wild scattered leaps and dynamic extremes, enjoyed a masterful ride. The composer’s own outlandish tempo markings frequently lend the latter a hectic, hysterical quality, but there was none of that here. Nor was Tierra snagged by the work’s dozen or so trip wires that have finished off respected pianists. It was full of excitement, but thanks to the pianist’s interpretive maturity, it was coherent -- even in the intoxication of Scriabin’s “flight of liberation.” The entire work was more satisfying than I recall hearing it.
Tierra has a formidable technique, but it is the kind that rarely gets singled out, as it draws no attention to anything but the music (i.e., real technique). Physically, Tierra is undemonstrative at the keyboard, rather trusting the listeners to receive the music without visual aid (and they do). The occasional gesture seemed to emanate naturally from him in a way appropriate to the music. While some of the fortes Tierra achieved were possibly stronger than what had been heard all afternoon, they were so much the logical culminations of sensitive shaping and building that they never seemed “loud,” simply powerful. Much of what one perceives as noise in piano recitals is not related to decibels at all, but rather to a kind of sonic commotion; with Mr. Tierra’s focused artistry, though, there was no noise, simply music. He is, as they say, “the real deal.”
Furthering these impressions was the Franck, also sensitively voiced and paced. There was some liberal lengthening of pauses throughout, but they were always persuasive. It was also surprising to hear the fugue open with such momentum, when it is traditionally treated as weightier than what precedes, but, once again, it was convincing. There was no dull moment. To my taste some sections were overpedalled (perhaps in pursuit of Franck’s beloved organ sound?), but the overall effect was magnificent.
Criticisms seem almost moot when a performer so completely captures his listeners’ trust. For this reason, sweeping as it might seem, some assessments can be reduced to “yes” or “no” verdicts. As I’m sure this contest’s jury realized, Chetan Tierra is a resounding “yes.”