"A Picture Book of Sweets" 33. Fantasia in the Style of Alvin
33. Fantasia in the Style of Alvin
The Vienna Musikverein. Known as the Eldorado of classical music, it is a hallowed international concert hall shrouded in various legends and mysteries.
In the past, most concerts in Vienna were in the hands of royalty and the nobility, but the Musikverein, established in 1812 to provide more music to the common people, would dramatically increase public interest in music. It was intended to serve as a specialized music education institution and as a repository for valuable documents.
At the time, the horrors of the French Revolution were still fresh in memory, and even in the Austrian Empire, the authorities were constantly keeping a watchful eye on the actions of citizens. The establishment of the association initially faced difficulties because it was proposed by citizens, but Archduke Rudolf, an amateur musician who was the Emperor's brother and a student of Beethoven, later became its patron, leading to its official approval.
Since then, it has hosted the premieres of numerous important works—many conducted by the composers themselves, such as Strauss, Brahms, Bruckner, and Mahler—and has continued to present the highest level of music to enthusiasts around the world.
The Greek Renaissance-style theater seen today was built in 1870.
The Great Hall, which seats around 2,000, has a box-like structure where the space under the wooden floor and above the ceiling acts as a resonance chamber, as if it were the inside of a string instrument. Combined with gorgeous decorations, the magnificent color scheme of gold leaf, marble busts of great composers who left their names in history, caryatids supporting the beams, and windows that let in natural light, all these conditions combined to create—not by the calculations of experts, but by chance—what boasts one of the world's finest "miracle acoustics."
It is also the home of the Vienna Philharmonic, and the New Year's Concert held in the Great Hall on New Year's Day is broadcast via satellite all over the world, accompanied by elegant dancing by the Vienna State Ballet, delighting 1 billion music fans every year.
Alvin Schwartz's recital was about to begin here in the Musikverein's small hall, the Brahms Saal.
The Brahms Saal, described as a "little jewel box" and the most beautiful, luxurious, and glorious chamber music hall on Earth, was inaugurated with a piano performance by Clara Schumann.
This was at the suggestion of Brahms, who had remained single his entire life and continued to support Clara mentally after her husband's passing. Brahms himself also played the piano and premiered many of his own works here. Because of this history, the hall was later named after Brahms, and a bust of Clara is displayed on the landing up the stairs from the main entrance, while a bust of Brahms is displayed in the second-floor hall (Schumann is in the Great Hall).
Alvin's recital program for tonight was as follows.
J.S. Bach: Partita No. 1 in B-flat Major
Haydn: Sonata No. 62 in E-flat Major, Op. 52
Schumann: Fantasia in C Major, Op. 17
When this hall was first built, it was in a salon style, with the stage set in the center of the seating area. Large glass windows were set into the ceiling of the Greek temple-style gable roof, and for matinee performances, bright sunlight would have shone onto the stage like a spotlight.
Later, for acoustic reasons, the stage was rebuilt at the back, like a typical theater. Because of this, two elegant salmon-pink Ionic columns, the same color as the theater's exterior, remain on the stage. Since there are no entrances on either side of the stage, the performers enter from the front rather than from the usual stage-left side.
In performances at typical theaters, the house lights are dimmed or lowered during the performance, while the stage is brightly lit and stands out, completely separating the worlds of the performer and the audience. However, here in the Brahms Saal, although the stage is elevated, the structure lacks such a partition from the audience, so both share the same space. And even when the performance begins, the chandelier lighting on the walls of both the audience area and the stage is not dimmed.
Alvin Schwartz, dressed in a tailcoat, appeared at the front of the stage in the bright, glittering hall and was welcomed by the warm applause of the audience. The unadorned demeanor of Alvin and his elegant white bow tie speak to a freshness that, even as he has aged, remains unchanged from his debut as an exemplary young man. There is surely no other pianist who looks as good in a white bow tie as he does. However, standing between the two columns of the theater, which mimics an ancient Greek temple, he also seemed to possess the dignified air of a king.
He bowed politely and, just as he seemed to face the piano with a beautiful, straight-backed posture, the brilliant melody of the Partita began to flow. Because Alvin approaches the piano with an attitude as natural as breathing, the audience is instantly drawn into the world of sound he creates.
The Bösendorfer piano that Alvin usually prefers to choose also responds to him with a very rich sound. Even though it is classical music with a simple tonal quality that does not use the pedal much, how brilliantly it resonates. While it has a clear, solid core, what a dreamily beautiful sound is spun out.
The final movement of the Partita, which consists of six dance movements, is a Gigue in 12/8 time. It is a light yet elegant melody woven by the jumping of the crossing left hand. Life is breathed into this piece, which can truly be called a miracle of art, with perfect technique and precise rhythm, and by the time it reaches its climax, the hearts of the audience have already completely forgotten their daily lives and been carried away to another dimension.
The piece ends, and the real space returns for a moment with loud applause, but Alvin does not leave the stage and immediately invites the audience to the next program, Haydn's sonata.
The first theme starting with clear chords, the lovely and delicate second theme, skillful modulations, and diverse pianism utilizing advanced technique. Although it is Haydn's last piano sonata, the brightness and poignancy that remind one of an unforgettable youth are expressed in a truly refreshing and pleasant way.
Alvin Schwartz is one of the few pianists who can perform in a natural, profound, and well-ordered manner while possessing advanced technique. He is not at all caught up in external flashiness, such as so-called transcendental technique or the intense passion of pounding on the keyboard, and he is not conscious of the audience's reaction, but only of the dialogue between himself and the music. The beauty of his unparalleled tone was far beyond the level of the real world.
Thanks to this, by the time the first half of the program ends, all the audience members have been baptized by Alvin's piano, and their hearts are completely purified.
And in the second half, after the intermission, when it comes to the main piece, the audience listens with a clean slate. That is the Alvin style, although it is by no means intentional, but rather a situation that is naturally created in the unique environment of a concert.
What would happen there? Everything depended on Alvin.
“Grand Sonata for Florestan and Eusebius, an Obolen dedicated to the Beethoven Monument”—this was the title originally intended for tonight’s main piece, Schumann’s “Fantasia.”
An obolen is a Greek term for a small coin, carrying the nuance of a modest donation.
Florestan and Eusebius were pen names Schumann used to represent the two sides of his own personality. Florestan represented the bright, active side, while Eusebius represented the gentle, romantic side. However, this long title was completely removed once the piece was finished, ultimately becoming simply “Fantasia,” and it was dedicated to his mutually respected friend, Franz Liszt.
Often called the “Magna Carta of Romantic music,” Schumann opened up a new frontier with this piece that no one had reached before.
With its unique sense of fantasy and improvisation, a tonal ambiguity that would influence later composers, and a free form that was not bound by classical styles, each movement remained closely related through its themes, maintaining a sense of unity.
It is Schumann’s greatest masterpiece among his many piano works and one of the finest pieces of the Romantic era.
It was born from his deep love and sorrow for his beloved Clara, whom he was not allowed to meet or even correspond with at the time—Schumann’s teacher and Clara’s father, Mr. Wieck, had even declared he would “shoot him if he came near.” In the depths of despair, feeling he had to cut off his feelings, composing was the only means of expression through which he could convey his heart to his beloved.
The venue lights were adjusted to a subtle dimness, and Alvin Schwartz, as if trying to suppress the rising emotions within him before the piano, focused deeply before beginning to sing out the emotional theme in octaves with his right hand, set against the majestic arpeggios of his left. Just as the composer instructed, it was infinitely fantastical, and yet passionate.
Alvin entrusted all of his own emotions to Schumann’s emotions—that is, the emotions inherent in the Fantasia itself. By doing so, the pianist, the composer, and the music itself became one, creating a world that anyone could empathize with.
For example, in a performance where the pianist’s individual assertion is pushed to the forefront—like the old Rudolf Becker, saying, “I am here! Now, listen to my performance!”—the audience is overwhelmed and given (or forced to accept) a great deal of energy from the performer. While that is one type of performance style that appeals to audiences, it seems that those who do not hold firm views on life or deep personal values tend to prefer such a passive state.
Those who prefer to listen to Alvin Schwartz’s performances are in a completely different situation.
They head to the theater to look at themselves. Through Alvin’s pure performance, which brings the inherent beauty of the piece to the surface, the audience has all distracting thoughts swept away, and their hearts are returned to a blank slate. Upon that, their own lives—precious memories, hopes for the future, dreams, and longings—are layered onto the music. The audience can embrace the deep feelings they had almost forgotten and fill themselves with their own energy.
Rather than simply sharing the performer’s energy, he creates a catalyst to draw out the audience’s latent abilities and talents. This is the Alvin style of performance, and it is the reason why people love him so deeply and quietly, as if he were their own alter ego.
The climax of the Fantasia. A poetic world of fantasy unfolds like quiet waves rolling in and out, and the emotions filled with distant longing and certain love gradually rise, until the piece eventually comes to an end with a beautiful sense of peace.
Like a star at dawn, shimmering as it fades away.
To be continued in “I Can Hear the Song of the Wind”...