When it comes to impressive artist biographies, Leif Ove Andsnes just about has it all. Born in Karmøy, Norway, the Scandinavian pianist boasts an extensive career featuring a discography of over 50 titles, many of which have been nominated for Grammys and Gramophone Awards, as well as collaborations with major orchestras, including the Berlin Philharmonic, New York Philharmonic, Los Angeles Philharmonic, San Francisco Symphony and London Philharmonic. He has also won prizes at various international piano competitions and was the youngest musician to curate Carnegie Hall’s Perspectives series in 2004. The list goes on, truly, and I encourage you to explore more of his well-earned achievements on his website when you have the time.
But in the end, when you decide to attend a performance by an internationally acclaimed musician, what you’re really looking for isn’t the frankly impressive biography printed in a rather small font in the middle of a booklet (program notes are always appreciated during intermission or when you realize you’ve accidentally taken it home instead of returning it to the kind chaperones who showed you to your seat); instead, what you’re hoping is to witness music-making that can truly reach you at your core, and make you feel something. And on Friday, March 28, at the Ordway Center for Performing Arts, Andsnes did just that.
Andsnes’ performance was a part of the Schubert Club’s International Artists Series and featured music by two fellow Norwegians, Edvard Grieg and Geirr Tveitt, and the beloved Polish composer Frédéric Chopin. The program was top-heavy, with the first half delivering more than 50 minutes of music, followed by a shorter 37-minute second half. It’s not quite as common to hear solo performances with this format, but I found it to be a welcome change, particularly for an evening concert on a cold March day.
The concert was preceded by a short speech by Barry Kempton, the artistic and executive director of the Schubert Club, during which he disclosed that Andsnes had assisted the Schubert Club in selecting its new Hamburg Steinway, which he would be performing on that very night. It was a pleasant surprise to know that the piano would be of liking to Andsnes, as there’s nothing quite as off-putting as performing on an instrument you don’t enjoy playing on. Then, Kempton bowed out, and Andsnes walked on stage.
Edvard Grieg: Piano Sonata in E Minor, Op. 7
Grieg was a Norwegian composer known for blending Germanic Romantic style with traditional Norwegian folk elements. Although his music is programmed far and wide, his Piano Sonata isn’t quite as often performed. He composed it when he was 22 and recently engaged, and the piece certainly reflects that youthful joy. Andsnes’ performance of the piece was as lovely as it was captivating.
He’s an elegant pianist, and his approach to the keyboard is founded in excellent voicing combined with a lovely, round sound that can be heard clearly from the first row of the hall to the gallery on the last floor. His phrasing was sensible and long, something that helped guide the audience through the piece.
One audience member I spoke to afterward praised Andsnes’ ability to perform in an “orchestral manner,” bringing out diverse quality of sound and character in the different sections while holding the piece together as one. It was these traits that really made for a memorable performance.
Listen below to Andsnes’ 1993 recording of the first movement of the Grieg’s sonata.
Geirr Tveitt: Piano Sonata No. 29 (Sonata Etere), Op. 129
The second piece on the program was Tveitt’s Sonata Etere. Tveitt, a lesser-known composer, was born in 1908, one year after Grieg’s death. According to the program notes provided by Michael Adams, he was a Norwegian composer and pianist who was a central figure of the national movement in Norwegian cultural life during the 1930s. Andsnes also took some time before the piece to speak about Tveitt’s music and life, mentioning how Tviett’s music was influenced by both French and Russian piano music, how it was experimental and oftentimes epic. At the center of the piece are folk melodies, Andsnes explained, and then proceeded to play the main theme of the sonata that would repeat itself throughout in various forms and iterations. Andsnes also conveyed that this was Tveitt’s only surviving sonata, and that the rest of them had perished in a fire.
Andsnes performed this piece with a score, which is common practice with newer music. I’ll admit that coming into an evening concert with a 33-minute piece by a 20th-century composer I had never heard of was daunting. If handled incorrectly, a performer can alienate or bore the audience with unfamiliar music. But Andsnes did the complete opposite. Not only did his performance convince me of the beauty and intricacy of Tveitt’s music, but it also convinced me of his own performance ability.
Andsnes is a captivating performer. He knows how to keep you engaged, how to lead you from one phrase to another and create a quality of sound that keeps you listening until it has decayed into complete silence. The piece also featured the use of harmonics, in which Andnes would hold down the notes of the lower half of the piano and play on the upper half, creating a magical network of sounds that seem to exist just beyond our ears’ threshold.
This performance was so impactful that Andsnes received a standing ovation afterward. In the many years I’ve attended performances, I have witnessed few who have inspired such awe as to warrant a standing ovation after the first half, and I do believe, in this case, it was well-deserved.
Listen below to Tveitt’s performance of his own Sonata Etere.
Frédéric Chopin: 24 Preludes, Op. 28
The final piece on the program was the most famous and popular of the three. Chopin’s 24 Preludes has enjoyed performances and recordings by just about every pianist in the industry. And it’s understandable, as the piece is filled with what kids these days may refer to as “certified bangers.” They’re catchy, short, incredibly diverse in their content, and overall, a joy to listen to.
Andsnes’ approach to this set of pieces is certainly a more Germanic one. This was perhaps not felt as much in the faster-paced preludes, which he performed with nimble fingers, beautiful voicing and bright colors. But it was rather present in the slower preludes. Yet, as someone who personally prefers a more romantic approach to these pieces, which includes taking a bit more time in certain spots and infusing the sound with a bit more despair or joy, when appropriate, I still found myself enjoying the performance thoroughly. Andsnes is very convincing in his approach, so much so that, even if you don’t quite agree with his interpretative decisions, you’re able to understand where he’s coming from and, for a moment, enjoy music through his artistic lens. And I think that’s a great example of beautiful artistry.
Listen below to Andsnes’ 1992 recording of one of Chopin’s etudes, another short piece by the Polish composer.
Encore — Claude Debussy: La Cathédrale Engloutie
The concert ended with another standing ovation and two curtain calls. On the third, Andsnes sat down, and nothing quiets an audience more than knowing they’re about to get an encore by a pianist they’d been thoroughly enjoying for the last hour and a half. What followed was a dreamy performance of one of Debussy’s own 24 preludes, La Cathédrale Engloutie (The Sunken Cathedral). It was the perfect dessert after such a great meal, and featured Andsnes’ expert use of the pedal and his wonderfully round sound, which filled the space and created an amazing sense of being suspended in air, a sensation that Debussy’s music can often create.
Listen below to Debussy’s performance of his own prelude.
Andsnes’ performance was captivating and memorable, with his approach to the keyboard engaging the audience in every measure. If you’re already somebody who enjoys going out to listen to big, solo concerts, I’m sure there’s no need for me to persuade you to listen to Andsnes. But if you haven’t taken that step yet, I encourage you to give Andsnes a chance. Start with something short, such as a few preludes, perhaps. Find something that touches that spot deep in your core that only music can reach, and then slowly find your way to even more great music like Grieg and Tveitt. I assure you: You won’t be disappointed.
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