FRIEDMAN’S FAREWELL

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 103, 22 July 1927, Page 15

FRIEDMAN’S FAREWELL

A LIGHT PROGRAMME Friedman’s final concert was attended last night by a large and enthusiastic audience. But some keen admirers of the pianist must have felt that this programme made rather an anti-climax to his most enjoyable season. It contained only two works of indisputable greatness, Beethoven’s F minor Sonata, called the “Appassionata,” and Chopin’s F minor Fantaisie (and the latter is perhaps not indisputable). For the rest, he gave us some charming smaller things, but one felt a fatiguing lack of variety—so many of them were light and bright, of quick tempo and major key and little or no emotional significance. Anyone who heard only these, and missed the Sonata and Fantaisie, would consider Friedman a mere primadonna pianist, however exquisite his accomplishment. This would not matter so much if we might hear enough of his best playing as well. But apparently he will not visit New Zealand until 1931, and no other pianist of importance can be expected this year. Under these circumstances, it was depressing to be put off with the Valse Impromptu and “Venezia e Napoli” of Liszt, and the Paganin-Liszt-Busoni “Campanella”; with Friedman’s own agreeable but superficial Minuet, “Marquis and Marquise,” and his two Studies in G major and G flat major; and with a queer, unprincipled arrangement by Brassin of the “Magic Fire” music (or some of it) from “Die Walkure.” There is so very much that we want to hear, even of the smaller music, that this waste of opportunity seems deplorable. Friedman would not sympathise, one feels, with some of the modern French and Russian composers. But he has exactly the sophisticated phrasing and delicately-pointed touch that are needed for Ravel, for the sunlit side of Debussy (Debussy “sec.” if we borrow that word from the vintner’s art), and for the amusing, surprising Etudes of Stravinski. Also, Rachmaninoff has written a quantity of really delightful Preludes (beside that misery in C sharp minor), though the virtuosi will never let us guess their existence. Friedman’s preference for the happier aspects of Chopin has already been remarked. Last night he played the Mazurka in D major (Op. 33, No. 2), the C major (Op. 10. No. 7), the two D flat major, and the G flat major (“Butterfly”) Etudes, with, the Vaises in A fiat major (Op. 42) and D flatmajor (Op. 64). These were done with all the spirit and the finish that one could desire—but they are not wholly characteristic of Chopin. A virile, wellbalanced performance of the F minor Fantaisie was the memorable feature of this group. The “Appassionata” Sonata, which opened the programme, was a reading of much interest and apparent originality. In the first movement some unfamiliar points were made—Beethovenesque or not. The slow movement allowed us to enjoy the perfection of Friedman’s legato, and the cool darkness, here, of his tone. The last movement, Allegro ma non troppo, seemed rather too fast —“troppo,” in fact —to get its full breadth and weight. But the whole Sonata caused a great deal of pleasure. It was followed by a rarely beautiful performance of Scarlatti’s Pastorale and Capriccio. Friedman must play more of these old harpsichord pieces on his next visit—he treats them enchantingly. R. J. B.