Dear List members, as promised, the Straits Times review of Nikolai
Lugansky's recital on Saturday.  Freddy Kempf's to follow tomorrow...

(I've appended my original draft instead of the actual print version, as
the ignorant sub-editor of the newspaper made a real mess of the editing.)

   7TH INTERNATIONAL PIANO FESTIVAL
   Nikolai Lugansky, piano
   Saturday 1 July, Victoria Concert Hall

   by LIONEL CHOI

   There was perhaps a bit too much auto-pilot music-making in Moscow-born
   pianist Nikolai Lugansky's recital on Saturday night, particularly
   in the first half, which hindered total engagement on the audience's
   part, provoking passive admiration instead.

   But to be fair, while many pianists tend to sound brutally cold
   or frustratingly lacklustre when they launch into their 'jet-lag'
   repertoire, Lugansky at least still came across as intuitively musical
   and oftentimes exciting in a big, bold Russian way.

   His approach to Mozart's final keyboard sonata was surprisingly
   straightforward:  vital rather than sparkling, and elegant in the
   full and commanding 18th-century sense of the word rather than urbane
   or genteel.

   He has terrific fingers.  The close imitative counterpoint in the
   first movement emerged with some brilliant effects entirely in keeping
   with the vivaciousness of the piece, though it bordered dangerously
   on hectoring coarseness at times.

   The same could be said of the hectic Finale, while the Adagio had a
   certain cultivated sensibility.

   But even at his best he rarely persuaded one that he was unlocking
   Mozart from within.

   Rachmaninov is, of course, the sort of repertoire that somehow takes
   sound but formulaic interpretations in better spirit, and in the
   showier preludes like the G Minor and the B-flat Major, Lugansky was
   enormously exhilarating.

   But the A-flat Major and E-flat Minor Preludes, both unannounced
   replacements of Op.  32 Nos.  5 and 8 which were originally in the
   programme, were surely quite out of control.

   And poetic though the calmer F-sharp Minor and G-flat Major Preludes
   might be, there was no genuine quietness in the playing and hence no
   transcendent sense of repose.

   Similar criticisms apply, albeit to a lesser extent, to the Serenade
   from Medtner's Op. 38 Forgotten Melodies, but the Forest Dance was
   a riveting romp.

   As for pianist Mikhail Pletnev's resourceful transcriptions of key
   passages from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty, given that Pletnev
   himself had made a marvellously-chiselled recording of the music,
   one understands why few have dared to take up the challenge since.

   Lugansky was obviously equally well-equipped technically to deal
   with the symphonic challenges these brilliant arrangements present,
   unleashing such sonorous climaxes from the old Steinway in pieces
   like the Introduction and the Closing.

   Yet, next to someone as exacting as Pletnev, one wonders if Lugansky
   were perhaps a shade too casual about things.

   Much of the witty writing, for example, could have been projected
   with greater affection through some ingenious variation of touch and
   articulation from the pianist.

   If the uproarious response from the audience were anything to go by,
   I suspect many may consider me unreasonably picky.

   Make no mistake:  all in all, it was undoubtedly an enjoyable concert
   by most standards, but taken in the light that Lugansky is usually
   well capable of producing even finer things than this, my slight
   discomfort might perhaps strike a chord with some.

Regards,
Lionel Choi
Singapore