Alfred Brendel's legacy was celebrated by a sold-out crowd at the Barbican in a concert that embodied his contradictions: rigorous intellectuality and mischievous whimsy. The evening's musical selection leaned towards classical repertoire, with pianist Simon Rattle expertly guiding an orchestra of Brendel's colleagues, proteges, and friends through a range of works.
The show opened with Haydn's Representation of Chaos from 'The Creation', before taking a series of unexpected turns that brought both humor and poignancy to the proceedings. The orchestra was characterized by its responsiveness to Rattle's conducting, moving seamlessly between dramatic outbursts and quiet introspection.
There were moments of planned comedy, including an ongoing bit involving six pianists and their stools, which apparently aren't as interchangeable as one might think. However, these lighthearted interludes often worked more convincingly when paired with genuinely affecting musical performances, such as Brendel's own poems read by Harriet Walter and accompanied by the piano playing of Pierre-Laurent Aimard.
The evening's highlights included a trio of virtuosic performances: Tim Horton duetted with Brendel's cellist son Adrian on Liszt's Elégie No 2, while Till Fellner and Paul Lewis collaborated on Schubert's A minor Allegro, D947. These musical interludes showcased the skill and precision that made Brendel such a renowned pianist.
The pièce de résistance came in the form of the Takács Quartet playing with Brendel himself, performing Schubert's C major Quintet. This movement spoke eloquently of absence, acceptance, and thankfulness, its sense of longing and gratitude conveyed through music that was both deeply personal and universally relatable.
Throughout the concert, it was clear that Brendel's spirit – his mischievous mind and rigorous intellectuality – had infused every performance with a unique energy. While some moments were lighthearted and comedic, others were more solemn and heartfelt, a testament to the enduring power of music to evoke emotion and connection in those who experience it.
The show opened with Haydn's Representation of Chaos from 'The Creation', before taking a series of unexpected turns that brought both humor and poignancy to the proceedings. The orchestra was characterized by its responsiveness to Rattle's conducting, moving seamlessly between dramatic outbursts and quiet introspection.
There were moments of planned comedy, including an ongoing bit involving six pianists and their stools, which apparently aren't as interchangeable as one might think. However, these lighthearted interludes often worked more convincingly when paired with genuinely affecting musical performances, such as Brendel's own poems read by Harriet Walter and accompanied by the piano playing of Pierre-Laurent Aimard.
The evening's highlights included a trio of virtuosic performances: Tim Horton duetted with Brendel's cellist son Adrian on Liszt's Elégie No 2, while Till Fellner and Paul Lewis collaborated on Schubert's A minor Allegro, D947. These musical interludes showcased the skill and precision that made Brendel such a renowned pianist.
The pièce de résistance came in the form of the Takács Quartet playing with Brendel himself, performing Schubert's C major Quintet. This movement spoke eloquently of absence, acceptance, and thankfulness, its sense of longing and gratitude conveyed through music that was both deeply personal and universally relatable.
Throughout the concert, it was clear that Brendel's spirit – his mischievous mind and rigorous intellectuality – had infused every performance with a unique energy. While some moments were lighthearted and comedic, others were more solemn and heartfelt, a testament to the enduring power of music to evoke emotion and connection in those who experience it.