A critic takes a sledgehammer to a celebrated pianist

A critic takes a sledgehammer to a celebrated pianist

Orchestras

norman lebrecht

November 03, 2024

The Parisian music critic Alain Lompech (pictured) has a reputation for not respecting reputations. This week, he set his sights on the vastly popular Paris-based pianist Khatia Buniatishvili. Khatia was playing Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto with the Orchestre de Paris. Alain was in pain.

Sample text (English follows):

Parler d’interprétation du Concerto n° 2 de Rachmaninov est impossible : la pianiste est trop en deçà des exigences de cette partition. Sa maîtrise instrumentale ce soir ne lui permettrait pas d’entrer au Conservatoire de Paris. Elle a des doigts mous, aucune incrustation dans le clavier, ne joue pas une phrase legato, et seules les difficultés qui tombent miraculeusement dans ses facilités naturelles passent sans trop d’encombres. Mais la plupart du temps, ses doigts survolent le clavier : elle bluffe au piano menteur, sans emporter la mise.

Ce concerto avance donc comme une barque à la godille, par à-coups et de travers, car dès qu’elle le peut elle se pâme assise droite comme un « i », la tête, les bras, les mains immobiles, les doigts bougeant sans qu’on entende le moindre chant soutenu… pourtant depuis le cinquième rang de face. Elle n’a aucune projection du son ; plus elle joue fort, moins le piano sonne : 80% de l’énergie se perd dans l’agitation. C’est d’autant plus déprimant qu’elle donne trois bis. Le public ne les lui demande pas vraiment passé le premier, mais elle les lui offre, après lui avoir fait des démonstrations d’amour en formant un cœur, ses deux pouces et ses deux index réunis. À l’entracte, un musicien venu écouter ses copains de l’Orchestre de Paris, voyant notre mine sombre, confiera : « J’ai filmé, parce que personne ne me croira quand je raconterais. »

 

Talking about the interpretation of Rachmaninov’s Concerto No. 2 is impossible: the pianist is too far below the demands of this score. Her instrumental mastery tonight would not get her into the Paris Conservatoire. She has weak fingers, no ornamentation at the keyboard, does not play a single phrase legato; only the difficulties that miraculously fall within her natural abilities pass without too much clutter. Most of the time, her fingers fly over the keyboard: she bluffs at the lying piano, without winning the bet.

This concerto therefore moves forward like a rowing boat, jerkily and sideways, because as soon as she can she swoons, sitting straight as an “i”, her head, arms, hands motionless, fingers moving without any sustained singing being heard… yet from the fifth row. She has no sound projection; the louder she plays, the less the piano sounds: 80% of the energy is lost in the agitation. It is all the more depressing because she gives three encores. The audience does not really ask her for them after the first, but she offers them, having demonstrated her love by forming a heart, her two thumbs and two index fingers together. During the interval, a musician who came to listen to his friends in the Orchestre de Paris, seeing our dark faces, confided: “I filmed, because no one will believe me when I tell them.”

 

More here.

UPDATE: Alain has honourably sent us a conflicting review by Le Monde critic Marie-Aude Roux, who sat in the seat next to him. Marie-Aude writes:

« Paradoxal de bout en bout. Tel était le concert proposé par l’Orchestre de Paris à la Philharmonie de Paris ce jeudi 31 octobre. Au pupitre, l’Ukrainien Kirill Karabits, chef du Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, qui fait, à 47 ans, ses débuts avec la phalange parisienne. Au piano, une habituée de la salle, Khatia Buniatishvili, artiste dont la popularité médiatique est désormais proportionnelle à la virulence de ses détracteurs. Trop virtuose, trop extravertie, trop incarnée et surtout trop « physique » – comme si la musique n’avait que des oreilles.
Fidèle à sa réputation glamour, la belle Franco-Géorgienne de 37 ans est entrée sur le plateau, épaules dénudées dans un long fourreau de velours noir à traîne, dont le buste ajusté s’ornait de trois gros nœuds de satin blanc en mode paquet-cadeau. Une ovation l’a accueillie tandis qu’elle distribuait des bisous à la salle.
La grande phrase reptilienne du piano à découvert qui ouvre le célèbre Concerto n° 2 de Sergueï Rachmaninov (Rach 2pour les intimes), amarrée à ses basses, s’est propulsée de manière presque mécanique, sans mystère ni rebond, tandis que l’entrée de l’orchestre suscitait quelques minutes plus tard une sorte de confusion rythmique qui se rééquilibrera peu à peu. Il sera difficile de démêler si l’entente entre la soliste et le chef est aussi cordiale qu’affichée tant le discours musical s’avère en effet paradoxal, prenant telle direction, puis telle autre, sans que l’on sache réellement, en tout cas du côté du piano, où il va. Les facilités naturelles de la musicienne font parfois illusion, comme dans ces jolies échappées distillées dans l’aigu, mais le piano, lesté de résonances trop lourdes, manquant d’ardence et d’articulation, ne sonne pas et semble se noyer dans l’orchestre.
Le solo du flûtiste Vicens Prats accompagne le fameux « Andante sostenuto », dont le thème, est-il précisé dans le programme de salle, a été repris comme « échantillon » dans la chanson d’Eric Carmen, All by Myself, magnifiée par Céline Dion. « Toute seule », c’est un peu l’impression que donne la pianiste, dont le jeu atone semble dérouler une longue plaine d’ennui, embrumée d’un legato à couper au couteau. Tête soudainement renversée, c’est avec un aplomb fougueux que Khatia Buniatishvili lancera les hostilités du Finale. Impressionnante visuellement, avec cette façon bien à elle de laisser son corps ployer sous la caresse des sons. La cadence virtuose, prise à une allure que les restrictions de vitesse de circulation du périphérique tout proche ne permettraient pas, fera son effet.
Et c’est par une seconde ovation que s’achèvera l’une des partitions qui marquent l’apothéose du concerto romantique. Trois bis tout aussi « paradoxaux » viendront clore le chapitre pianistique. Un Clair de lune debussyste tout en floutages et maniérismes (avec de curieux passages à la Rachmaninov), la partie rapide (Friska, vivace) de la Rhapsodie hongroise n° 2 de Liszt, transformée en figure d’Halloween, entre « go fast » et bastringue, suivie d’une sentimentale Javanaise, de Serge Gainsbourg, version jazzy. »

(en englais): Paradoxical through and through. Such was the concert proposed by the Paris Orchestra at the Paris Philharmonic this Thursday, October 31. At the desk, Ukrainian Kirill Karabits, conductor of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, who, at 47, makes his debut with the Parisian ensemble. At the piano, a regular of the hall, Khatia Buniatishvili, an artist whose media popularity is now proportional to the virulence of her haters. Too virtuoso, too extroverted, too incarnate and above all too “physical” – as if music only had ears.

True to her glamorous reputation, the 37-year-old beautiful Franco-Georgian entered the set, bare shoulders in a long black velvet trolley, whose fitted bust was adorned with three large white satin bows in gift-box mode. A standing ovation greeted her as she gave kisses to the room.

Comments

  • Petros Linardos says:

    More power to Lompech for not being swayed by reputations. I am troubled, however, by his sarcasm and his digressions to visual aspects.

    I remember Pollini in his 30s looking like he suffered on stage. He could be very distracting visually. Am I right not to remember critics focusing on his stage presence?

  • CGDA says:

    OK, but doesn’t he like the industry-fabrications such as Klaus Makela despite his musical and professional shortcomings?

  • Dargomyzhsky says:

    Not that I have any time for the rather loathsome profession of ‘music critic’, but he is spot on here.

  • WU says:

    On YT I get the impression that she plays way too fast and as a consequence extremely muddy; in some pieces she rushes through the score even faster than Matsuev, and he is exactly where the limits of rushing a piece without producing simply a melée for the ears is, thanks to his big technique. Also thanks to his technique and his stamina he gets a big sound out of the instrument, I witnessed quite a few concerts of his over the years, at the interval he was already beyond the speed and fff most pianists are able to achieve and after the interval he easily surpassed that – only to trump the whole performance with the encores. It’s a matter of taste, I liked this flamboyant way of playing (he will never come back, evidently). But if it is done like this, one has to deliver, which she doesn’t. Insteads she prefers her hair hangig and moving around (~ I’m sooooo emotional ~) and interesting dresses, some of them too tight (I don’t like Yuja’s at all, but at least she can afford it somehow and you are quickly distracted from it by her playing (not sure about front row left side btw, I never positioned myself there (price)).

    • Anthony Sayer says:

      Concerning speed, compare her Precipitato with that of Sokolov. Katia (whom I adore, btw), just goes for speed. it’s exhilarating, a white-knuckle ride that you either enjoy or not. Sokolov’s is a fair bit slower and the tempo does not budge an inch, rather like watching a pedigree racehorse being slightly held back from giving its all. Absolutely breathtaking.

    • William Ward says:

      Too fast, too flashy, is too much. I don’t require a pianist to be as stoic as Rachmaninov, but I can’t bear to watch Lang Lang. I did pay to sit front(ish) left to see Yuja, but she cancelled when she broke up with Klaus and I got a closeup view of a cellist instead.

  • Elizabeth Owen says:

    What is Lompech’s background doe she have the right to comment on anyone?

  • Mark Mortimer says:

    Thats tough on Khatia- I think she frequently plays great & is a stunner to look at- plus the girlfriend of Orlando Bloom- whats there not to like. OK- a few tonal flaws in Rach 2 must be forgiven.

  • Alexander Hall says:

    More power to the French, who clearly allow strong opinions to be expressed without any attempt at censorship or the application of political correctness. I was taken to task by the editor of a website I once reviewed for, because of two words contained in a reply to a tweet which he deemed to be offensive. There was no connection between my social media details and the website in question. Nevertheless, pressure was put on me to delete my comment because the two words, in the opinion of the editor, reflected badly on the website. Now comes the really offensive bit. The editor himself was banned for life from teaching because of his gross misdemeanours in the classroom with little girls. That of course in no way reflected badly on the website, despite the details being available on the internet. Hypocrisy is of course the British disease. The French may have several vices, but hypocrisy is not one of them.

  • Sue Sonata Form says:

    Yes, I’d have to agree with this. There’s a vast difference between exhibitionism and, well, anything really.

  • Stephen Gould says:

    It is not her musical talent that is the most prominent thing about her, nor that has led to her successful career

  • Alviano says:

    “If you got it, flaunt it.”

  • Nurhan Arman says:

    Two examples of music critics in popularity contest – one extra nasty and the other super complimentary and wrong. Nothing new here…

    • Jackson says:

      I can’t see many compliments in the second review either!

    • Warren Sorensen says:

      Actually neither review is at all complimentary , despite Norman’s note of admiration for the gallantry of the first critic in forwarding a “contradictory” review. While their comments do differ somewhat, they are (almost) equally negative about the performance.

  • Jeffrey Biegel says:

    I remember my teacher, Adele Marcus, saying, “Better you should hear it from me, dear, rather than from the critics!” She was a taskmaster about everything Mr. Lompech wrote.

  • Ed says:

    Notwithstanding Rachmaninoff concerti, surely Monsieur Lompech can agree with the rest of the civilized world that Mademoiselle Buniatishvili’s interpretation of the Monsieur Pierre Boulez’s Sixth Notation is unassailable, peerless, a miracle of modern music-making. And that goes for all four of the studio recordings she has so far made of it.

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