Talking Heads: Paul Wee

by Ben Hogwood

Paul Wee is a true one-off. An in-demand commercial barrister by day, he is also an extraordinary pianist, capable of taking on some of the most demanding pieces in the repertoire. The combination of a passion for his art and thirst for a challenge has led to award-winning recordings of the music of Thalberg and of Beethoven arranged by Liszt, both for the BIS label.

Yet arguably his greatest recording achievement to date concerns the music of Charles-Valentin Alkan, the 19th-century French composer who was one of the great virtuosos of his day. Wee has mastered two massive works by the composer – his Symphony for Solo Piano and the Concerto for Solo Piano. The latter will form an entire lunchtime concert with which he will make his eagerly anticipated Wigmore Hall debut, on Saturday 15 June. A tempestuous hour of music lies ahead – so while he flexes his muscles in preparation, Arcana managed to get some time with him to explore not just Alkan but a number of other irons he has in the fire.

Firstly, Paul recalls vividly his first encounter with Alkan’s music. “It was when I was in high school, in New York City”, he says. “I heard a live recording of Marc-André Hamelin playing the Symphony for Solo Piano, and I was awestruck immediately!”

His decision to take on the concerto was inspired by similar feelings. “I was immediately taken by the Concerto for Solo Piano when hearing it for the first time: it’s an astonishing musical construction, which makes an extraordinary and unforgettable impact. I didn’t know of any other work like it in the repertoire and knew that I had to give it a go myself.”

The piece is notorious for the demands Alkan makes on the performer, but as Wee confirms the rewards are greater still. “The technical challenges are reasonably self-evident; in the numerous passages where Alkan is displaying the ‘virtuosity’ of the (virtual) ‘soloist’, the writing – whilst always remaining very idiomatic and practical, characteristically for Alkan – can sometimes approach the limits of conventional pianism”, he says. “The emotional (or musical) challenges are mainly twofold: first, bringing to life the (extraordinarily theatrical) drama and rhetoric in the second movement Adagio; and second, maintaining the intensity of the Concerto’s narrative arc across its 50-minute wingspan. But when these challenges are met, it makes for one of the most incredible experiences that the piano repertoire has to offer.”

Wee has recorded the concerto for BIS, an album released in 2019. Has his view of the piece changed since then? “Yes – in relation to both the Concerto’s sound world, and also its pacing, especially in the Allegro assai. As ever it’s difficult to explain this in words, so the best thing for anybody interested is to come and hear it live!”

Alkan is a composer who inspires great dedication among his fans, and Wee considers the elements of his music that lead to these feverish reactions. “I think it is the sheer power and quality of his finest works, which offer extraordinary experiences quite unlike anything else that the 19th century has to offer. The fact that Alkan and these works are not as widely known as they should be can often lead to fans of Alkan’s music to (rightly!) encourage others to discover this music for themselves. That’s exactly what I hope to be doing myself when bringing the Concerto to Wigmore Hall.”

Anyone approaching Alkan’s music for the first time is in for a treat. “It depends on what work they are hearing. If the Concerto, they should prepare themselves for an epic, but nevertheless very accessible, musical narrative; a very wide variety of pianistic experiences, from some of the greatest heights of 19th-century virtuoso piano writing, through to tender intimacy and lyricism, with much quasi-operatic dramatic intensity and rhetoric along the way. Overall, the listener should prepare themselves for the extraordinary cumulative impact of the work, which builds across all three movements and which in a good performance can be utterly overwhelming.”

Presenting this work in the Wigmore Hall is something of a dream for Wee, who recalls his most memorable musical experiences in the venue. “Wigmore Hall is probably my most visited concert venue, and my own personal highlights reel would be too long to list in full! But some illustrative examples would have to include recitals by Marc-André Hamelin playing Haydn, Mozart, Liszt, Fauré, and Alkan in November 2009; Benjamin Grosvenor playing Mendelssohn, Chopin, Ravel, and Liszt in June 2016; and Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis in Schubert’s Winterreise in June 2022.”

Expanding from Alkan, Wee has somehow found time to discover and record concertos by two names unfamiliar to many devotees of classical music – Adolph von Henselt and Hans von Bronsart (above). It is another addition to his small but formidably constructed discography for BIS – and not a recent discovery, either. “I discovered the Henselt in my teens,”, he says, “after reading about it in books by Harold Schonberg and David Dubal, and seeking out recordings by Raymond Lewenthal and Marc-André Hamelin. I came to the Bronsart later, after being captivated by Michael Ponti’s recording of the slow movement.”

The recordings Wee mentions were made with a symphony orchestra, but for the new album he is paired with the Swedish Chamber Orchestra, under Michael Collins. “One of the greatest difficulties of the Henselt lies in making the piano part, with all of its detailing and intricacies, audible over the sound of the orchestra”, he explains. “In nearly all cases, large swathes of the passagework (especially in the finale) are simply swallowed and inaudible beneath the weight of a modern symphony orchestra. In teaming up with the Swedish Chamber Orchestra for this recording, I think we have been able to present a different view of the Henselt in particular, which presents Henselt’s (quasi-Mendelssohnian) piano writing with a new immediacy and clarity, whilst maintaining power and heft where needed. Of course, the Swedish Chamber Orchestra is not just any old chamber orchestra; it has a particular reputation for being “the chamber orchestra that can sound like a symphony orchestra”, and I think that anybody hearing (say) the opening tutti of the Bronsart Concerto will be astounded by the vigour and intensity that the Swedish Chamber Orchestra brings to the proceedings. I think they have been the perfect partner for this recording.”

He continues to move forward with recording plans…“but as there are still a few moving pieces here and there, all I will say for now is to watch this space. But my future recording plans with BIS are very exciting, and I’m looking forward to sharing them when I can say more…”

Looking further afield, what other music would he like to explore? “The list is far too long: the piano literature is so wide and so rich, and I find many things to love in nearly every one of its corners. In addition to that, the music that I might want to play and enjoy for myself will not necessarily be the same as the music that might be thought to sell well if I were to record it. So there are many dimensions to this question, which do not necessarily interrelate. Again, I think that all I can say is that there are some very interesting projects in the pipeline, so watch this space!”

In the meantime he will continue with his two complementary disciplines. “Absolutely: I have no desire to give up my legal career and become a full-time musician. I enjoy my work as a commercial barrister; it’s challenging, constantly stimulating, and ultimately very satisfying. On the musical side, I wouldn’t be averse to playing a few more concerts here and there, but probably nothing more than that. I wouldn’t ever want for the piano to become my day-to-day life. I am much happier with the piano being my escape from everyday life, which (for me) is my career at the Bar.”

He expands on how the two very different elements of his life are complementary. “The most important factor is that each presents an escape from the other. When my legal practice is especially demanding (which, as any lawyer will tell you, can frequently be the case), I can take a quick 5- or 10-minute time-out at the piano, and for that window, I am completely disconnected from the strains and stresses of the law: I return to my desk refreshed. In the other direction, my legal career has helped me hugely as a pianist by (perhaps paradoxically) ensuring that the piano is not my day-to-day life, as I mentioned above. Whenever I sit down at the piano, it’s never out of obligation, but out of joy. These days I have a completely different relationship with the instrument than what I used to have when I thought (as a teenager) that I wanted to be a concert pianist. I think the freedom that underpins my relationship with the piano these days has been essential in making me the pianist that I have become.”

Finally, he considers the music he anticipates seeing as a concertgoer this year – when time allows. “As it happens, this year I am going to far fewer concerts than usual, given the demands of family life (our second daughter was born in December and is just six months old). So I’m often going to concerts at shorter notice than usual. That said, I’m hoping to see Benjamin Grosvenor in the Busoni Concerto at the Proms, and I have Igor Levit’s September 2024 recital in my diary, where he’ll be playing the Liszt transcription of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony: these are fabulous transcriptions that should be played in concert far more frequently, so I’m delighted to see him bringing this to London. I’m also planning to see Nikolai Lugansky at Wigmore Hall in December 2024, where he’ll be playing (among other things) his own stunning transcription of scenes from Götterdämmerung. I’m sure there will be many other concerts along the way!”

For information on Paul’s Wigmore Hall debut, on Saturday 15 June at 1pm, click on this link. You can read more about Paul at his website, and explore his discography at the Presto website

Published post no.2,207 – Wednesday 12 June 2024

In concert – Quatuor Danel: Shostakovich & Weinberg #5 @ Wigmore Hall

Quatuor Danel [Marc Danel & Gilles Millet (violins), Vlad Bogdanas (viola), Yovan Markovitch (cello)]

Shostakovich String Quartet no.7 in F# minor Op.108 (1959-60)
Weinberg String Quartet no.7 in C major Op.59 (1957)
Weinberg String Quartet no.8 in C minor Op.66 (1959)
Shostakovich String Quartet no.8 in C minor Op.110 (1960)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 3 June 2024

by Richard Whitehouse Photo (c) Marco Borggreve

Quatuor Danel’s interleaving of string quartets by Shostakovich and Weinberg arrived at its effective half-way point this evening with a programme featuring the seventh and eighth of their respective cycles: quartets that are as different from each other as are these composers.

His briefest and likely most ambivalent, Shostakovich’s Seventh Quartet is dedicated to the memory of his first wife from the vantage of the short-lived marriage to his second. Its three movements play without pause, their oblique formal and expressive circularity being potently realized here – whether those fugitive speculations of the opening Allegretto, wistful regret of the central Lento, or seething anger of a final Allegro whose fugal aggression pointedly heads back to the opening theme for a close of simmering unease. Music, then, which implies much more than could really be stated, as the Danel underlined throughout this perceptive reading.

Coming 11 years after its monumental predecessor, Weinberg’s Seventh Quartet might seem representative of a (necessary) lowered ambition in the late- and post-Stalin years. Subdued and even enervated, its opening Adagio never strays from a musing uncertainty the ensuing Allegretto (originally preceded by a vivid scherzo, subsequently withdrawn) offsets through its poise and charm. Neither predicts a finale as takes the precedent of that in Shostakovich’s Second Quartet to its logical extreme – these 23 variations on a sombre theme unfolding as a palindrome from sustained grandeur to seething energy, then back to the start for a glowering apotheosis. Undoubtedly one of the great such movements in the history of the string quartet.

Such music would usually mark the end of a programme but, following the trajectory of this double-cycle, it concluded the first half of a recital which continued with Weinberg’s Eighth Quartet. Once relatively familiar through its championing from the Borodin Quartet and, in the UK, the Lindsays, its single movement (reciprocally taken to a new level with the 13th Quartet of Shostakovich) builds from initial reticence to a dance-like section of pronounced Klezmer inflections. Affording a culmination of audible anguish, this duly subsides towards the mood of the opening for a conclusion of becalmed intimacy realized to perfection here.

It is worth recalling how much more frequently played, compared to the rest of his cycle, was Shostakovich’s Eighth Quartet even a quarter-century after its composer’s death. All credit to the Danel for investing it with a continual sense of (re-?) discovery – the pensive allusiveness of its initial movement yielding an anticipation brutalized by the violence of its scherzo then deflected by the quizzical repartee of its intermezzo. The fourth movement assuredly took no hostages to fortune in its graphic alternation between the confrontational and consoling, and it remained for the finale to restore emotional equilibrium with its resumption of the opening music – albeit now devoid of quotations as Shostakovich stands ‘naked’ before his listeners.

A gripping performance and one, moreover, that brought this first phase of the Danel’s cycle to a natural close. It resumes on October 16th with the Ninth and 10th Quartets by Weinberg alongside the Ninth Quartet by Shostakovich – a programme equally eventful and intriguing.

You can hear the music from the concert below, in recordings made by Quatuor Danel -including their most recent cycle of the Shostakovich quartets on Accentus:

For more information on the next concert in the series, visit the Wigmore Hall website. You can click on the names for more on composer Mieczysław Weinberg and Quatuor Danel themselves.

Published post no.2,200 – Wednesday 5 June 2024

In concert – Geneva Lewis & Georgijs Osokins @ Wigmore Hall: Brahms, Scarlatti & Elgar

Geneva Lewis (violin, above) and Georgijs Osokins (piano, below)

Brahms Violin Sonata no.2 in A major Op.100 (1886)
Domenico Scarlatti Sonata in D minor Kk213
Elgar Violin Sonata in E minor Op.82 (1918)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 20 May 2024 (1pm)

by Ben Hogwood

The Violin Sonata no.2 is one of Brahms‘s chamber music perennials, a popular recital fixture – but in this recital from BBC New Generation Artist Geneva Lewis and Latvian pianist Georgijs Osokins it was as though the work had received a fresh coat of paint.

The tempo marking Brahms applied to the first movement, Allegro amabile, is seldom found in classical music – ‘amabile’ meaning ‘lovely’. That was certainly the case in this performance, though Lewis and Osokins took a much slower tempo than is the norm. Their daring approach succeeded, however, for the melodic phrasing blossomed, the spring-like main tune given plenty of room to shine. The second theme was laid bare, but again the slow tempo allowed for greater insight, followed attentively by the Wigmore Hall audience.

The dynamic range of both players was also notable, Lewis very much aware of her surroundings in the quiet passages, the audience subconsciously leaning in to the music. At points the music was so quiet that Osokins’ pedalling could be heard…but conversely the pair were not afraid to put the pedal down and play out, as they did in the finale. In between came a tender and affectionate middle movement, its dreamy opening certainly tranquillo, before a most appealing central vivace section.

Elgar’s Violin Sonata was completed when the composer had just turned 60 – and although he would live for another 16 years, very few major works followed. To hear the sonata played by performers in their twenties was eye-opening indeed, with more youthful elements of the piece revealed and a different light shed on a work that often has autumnal reflections to cast.

The first movement was notable for its commanding first paragraph, Lewis setting the tone for the movement as she became immersed in Elgar’s broad phrasing. Osokins, for his part, mastered the full piano textures most impressively, before both performers drew back for a thoughtful second theme. The second movement became a fascinating mini-ballet between the two instruments, its shadowy colours a clue to the composer’s darker thoughts, though the bittersweet melodies were given extra charm by the dance-inflected rhythms.

The finale took flight immediately, the violin surging forward with penetrating melodies that led to a sense of sunlight breaking through the clouds in the closing phrases, Elgar allowing his thoughts to brighten as the music turned to the major key. The imaginatively chosen encore capitalised on this, Lewis and Osokins giving us the rustic finale of Busoni’s Violin Sonata no.2 in E minor, music which might have passed for one of Brahms’s Hungarian-influenced works were it not for some particularly scrunchy harmonies.

In between the two big sonatas, Osokins (above) had the chance to shine alone, one he took with a profound account of one of Domenico Scarlatti‘s many keyboard sonatas. The Sonata in D minor Kk213 is a bittersweet piece, a reminder of how forward looking this composer’s music can. Rooted in the 18th century it may be, but in reality we could have been listening to a Satie Gnossienne, especially with Osokins’ poetic licence drawing out the final harmonic resolution.

Published post no.2,184 – Monday 20 May 2024

In concert – Quatuor Danel: Shostakovich & Weinberg #4 @ Wigmore Hall

Quatuor Danel [Marc Danel & Gilles Millet (violins), Vlad Bogdanas (viola), Yovan Markovitch (cello)]

Weinberg String Quartet no.5 in B flat major Op.27 (1945)
Shostakovich String Quartet no.6 in G major Op.101 (1956)
Weinberg String Quartet no.6 in E minor Op.35 (1946)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 29 April 2024

by Richard Whitehouse Photo (c) Marco Borggreve

Quatuor Danel’s ongoing cycle devoted to the string quartets of Shostakovich and Weinberg reached its fourth instalment this evening with a programme in which two of the latter’s most characteristic such pieces framed what is among the most ambivalent of the former’s works.

Composed in the aftermath of the Second World War, Weinberg’s Fifth Quartet emerges as a divertimento in concept but hardly in substance. The opening Melodia underlines this with its brooding theme on violin that intensifies expressively as the movement expands texturally, while the ensuing Humoreska has a dance-like insouciance that takes on ominous overtones as it unfolds. This accrued tension bursts forth in the central Scherzo with its violent motivic and gestural exchanges between the players, then the Improvisation revisits earlier material from an inevitably more troubled perspective. It only remains for the final Serenata to bring closure via its familiar gambit of summing-up the whole from a likely emotional remove, only to take on greater immediacy on the way to a musing close: something ideally conveyed here.

The mid-1950s was a difficult time for Shostakovich, recently widowed and unsure as to his future direction. Dedicated to his second wife, the Sixth Quartet can seem as tentative as this marriage proved short-lived – the genial quality of the opening Allegretto’s themes assuming much more combative guise as the movement evolves, with the Moderato that follows poised uncertainly between scherzo and intermezzo but without committing either way. The second of its composer’s passacaglias in a quartet context, the Lento unfolds as a processional both fatalistic and doubtful before heading into a final Allegretto whose inherent nostalgia exudes a sepia-tinted regret at its core. As previously, the Danel was mindful to vary the expressive intent of that recurrent closing cadence – one whose finality is ultimately borne of resignation.

The last work proved to be a culmination in all senses. Over six decades might have elapsed between its composition and its premiere (by this ensemble), but Weinberg’s Sixth Quartet is one of his finest and a highpoint of quartet-writing in the twentieth century. Although it runs to six movements, there is never risk of diffusiveness or loss of focus – witness the deceptive equability of its initial Allegro, such equivocation decisively countered by the violent Presto whose unbridled energy has barely been dispelled across the brief and recitative-like Allegro.

Despite its fugal mobility, the ensuing Adagio emerges as a slow movement frozen in intent – something the Danel brought out as acutely as it did that bittersweet anxiety of the Moderato which follows. More than in any of Weinberg’s earlier quartets, the final Andante maestoso is a fitting destination – its almost monumental power fashioning elements previously heard into a cumulative structure whose outcome is one of desperation mingled with defiance. Not hard to fathom why the Soviet authorities should have prohibited even a private performance.

Whether or not it has become a ‘signature work’ for the Danel, the sheer emotional input of this reading assuredly took no hostages. Shostakovich’s 1931 arrangement of Katerina’s aria from the third scene of his opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk duly made for an eloquent envoi.

You can hear the music from the concert below, in recordings made by Quatuor Danel:

For more information on the next concert in the series, visit the Wigmore Hall website. You can click on the names for more on composer Mieczysław Weinberg and Quatuor Danel themselves.

Published post no.2,167 – Friday 3 May 2024

In concert – Charlotte Saluste-Bridoux & Joseph Havlat @ Wigmore Hall: Szymanowski, Poulenc & Schubert

Charlotte Saluste-Bridoux (violin, above) and Joseph Havlat (piano, below)

Szymanowski 3 Myths Op.30 (1915)
Poulenc Violin Sonata (1943)
Szymanowski arr. Havlat 3 Kurpian Songs (from Op.58) (1930-32)
Schubert Rondo Brillant in B minor D895 (1826)

Wigmore Hall, London
Tuesday 10 April 2024 (1pm)

by Ben Hogwood

This recital was given under the umbrella of YCAT (Young Classical Artists Trust), the organisation supporting promising classical talent celebrating their 40th anniversary this year. Violinist Charlotte Saluste-Bridoux is one of the current roster, and with pianist Joseph Havlat she gave a captivating recital.

The two began with the highly perfumed 3 Myths of Karol Szymanowski, ideal concert material that can show off a performer’s virtuosity but also their descriptive potential and range of tonal colour. These pieces, written as part of a highly productive partnership Szymanowski enjoyed with violinist Pawel Kochanski, were declared by the composer to have created ‘a new…mode of expression for the violin’.

There was a sense of the new in this performance, notable for its wide range of instrumental colour. The first ‘myth’, La fontaine d’Aréthuse, was strongly characterised, the fountain vividly evoked by Havlat’s opening phrases before Saluste-Bridoux took control with fearless virtuosity. Both musicians were notable for their convincing melodic phrasing, the violin sound strikingly beautiful both with and without the mute. The musical links back to Wagner and Franck were clear, most notably in Narcisse, where the performers brought clarity to the dense counterpoint. This was descriptive music indeed, and Szymanowski’s sound world – unusually advanced for 1915 – took the audience far from the hall. The hollow piano towards the end of Dryades et Pan was notable, Havlat responding to the ghostly harmonics from the violin.

The excesses of Szymanowski were countered by one of Poulenc’s most substantial chamber works. The Violin Sonata has a very different profile to its more famous counterparts for wind instruments, being a troubled work bearing the imprint of the Second World War and personal bereavement. Completed in 1943, it is a work riddled with dark anxiety, though this performance brought out the bittersweet lyricism of the first movement. The nocturnal Intermezzo evoked the guitar, suggesting the influence of Debussy but soon holding the audience in suspense before the finale took off at quite a pace, as though looking to evade capture. Once again this was a performance of high technical standard, one that got beneath the surface to reveal the loss at the heart of Poulenc’s writing – the composer lamenting the Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca, who died in the Spanish Civil War.

We then heard three highly effective arrangements from Joseph Havlat of Szymanowski’s Kurpian Songs, selected from the twelve Polish folk texts set by the composer for singer and piano in 1932. As Prokofiev showed with his arrangements of 5 Poems of Anna Akhmatova for violin and piano, such a transcription can be extremely effective – and Havlat’s arrangements were just that, ideally balanced and equally spread between violin and piano. Saluste-Bridoux played with notable dexterity, the two performers enjoying the rustic Bzicem kunia and the sharp outbursts, tinged with regret, of A pod borem siwe kunie.

The musical outlook changed notably for Schubert’s Rondo brilliant, which was effectively an extended encore. The violin was arguably too full bodied to start with, the piano back in the mix, but as the Rondo progressed the balance was restored and we were able to enjoy Schubert’s humour, expressed through an oft-repeating, stop-start theme. This was successfully lodged in our heads by the end, capping an extremely fine recital. These are two artists to watch out for – especially with the Schubert recorded for Delphian Records.

Published post no.2,144 – Wednesday 10 April 2024