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Violinist Sergey Khachatryan makes remarkable Chicago debut at Mandel Hall
Sat Nov 05, 2011 at 12:44 pm
By Michael Cameron
http://chicagoclassicalreview.com/2011/11/violinist-khachatryan-makes-remarkable-chicago-debut-at-mandel-hall/
Violinist Sergey Khachatryan made his belated Chicago debut Friday night at
Mandel Hall.
If you're an area concertgoer, you can be forgiven your probable
unfamiliarity with violinist Sergey Khachatryan, even though the young
Armenian has amassed an impressive body of credentials that include a
victory in the prestigious Sibelius competition at the astonishing age of
15, and a subsequent win at the Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels.
His tours of North America have included concerto appearances with most
major orchestras, with the notable exception of the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra. A Ravinia appearance a few years ago has been the only local one
before Friday night's long overdue Chicago debut at Mandel Hall at the
University of Chicago. There he presented illuminating performances of
three sonatas of Beethoven and Shostakovich with his equally gifted sister,
pianist Lusine Khachatryan.
The 26-year-old Armenian seems determined to shed the stereotypical prodigy
label, bearing a repertoire almost entirely constructed from the
established canonical masterworks. One hopes his seriousness of purpose
will one day extend beyond preservation of the canon to its expansion, much
like his heroes Oistrakh and Rostropovich.
The duo's program seemed designed to bypass the composers' most commonly
acknowledged attributes, while highlighting contrasts between the three
pieces in the starkest possible terms. The two early sonatas of Beethoven
avoid the bold and heroic posture of many of his best-loved works in favor
of high spirits and youthful vigor. The brash, mocking Shostakovich is
nowhere to be found in his Violin Sonata of 1968. This birthday present for
David Oistrakh is one of his late, bleak masterworks, a moving portrait of
seething anger and exhausted resignation.
In recordings and in this concert, Khachatryan's sound is sweet and
beguiling, though the volume is not particularly substantial. Fiddle
aficionados might be surprised by his sonic footprint, given his current
use of the renowned 1740 `Ysa˙e' Guarneri owned previously by Isaac Stern
and Pinchas Zukerman, violinists not known for introversion. His range of
sonority in quieter dynamic is remarkable, but over long stretches it can
sound thin and vaguely anemic. Yet once the ear adjusts to the subtleties,
his appropriation of color illuminates his musical purposes with remarkable
nuance and sophistication.
Lusine Khachatryan
Anyone who has suffered the trauma of Thanksgiving political discussions
with relatives knows that gene-sharing is no guarantee of conciliation.
Happily, from the opening pages of Beethoven's A Major Sonata (op. 12, no.
2), the pair made it clear that they were of a single mind, a true dual
collaboration of equals. With Lusine's shapely and transparent passagework
and her brother's feathery touch and diaphanous sound in accompanying
phrases, the two tastefully shifted the focus between them as the score
dictated. Tempos were brisk but organic to the source, and the score's
structure was clear and unforced.
Much the same can be said of the `Spring' Sonata (op. 24), where the
violinist's limpid tone and the pianist's gossamer scales suited the cheery
score perfectly. Both broadened their sound for the finale as the dramatic
discourse was ramped up a few notches.
Khachatryan has spoken of the parallels between Armenia's tragic history
and the profound despair so central to Shostakovich's later years. Still,
no comparison could have prepared the audience for the duo's deeply
penetrating account of the Soviet composer's Sonata for Violin. The
siblings were ideally suited to the skeletal textures and whispered
dynamics of the opening Andante.
Suddenly, all earlier restraint was thrown to the wind in a dizzying
account of the gut-wrenching middle movement. This knife-edged reading was
almost frightening in its ferocity, with severed horsehair, aggressive
pizzicatos that nearly pulled the strings off the violin's bridge, and
thick resonant piano chords that seemed to conjure a chilling and deathly
primal scream. The pale, evaporating final bars sounded not so much like a
creation by Shostakovich as an act of musical surrender.
The duo consented to an encore with a brilliant and blistering Moto
Perpetuo composed by an unnamed fellow Armenian. As if to not completely
surrender the theme of the previous piece, the ancient Dies Irae was
embedded midway.
From: A. Papazian
Sat Nov 05, 2011 at 12:44 pm
By Michael Cameron
http://chicagoclassicalreview.com/2011/11/violinist-khachatryan-makes-remarkable-chicago-debut-at-mandel-hall/
Violinist Sergey Khachatryan made his belated Chicago debut Friday night at
Mandel Hall.
If you're an area concertgoer, you can be forgiven your probable
unfamiliarity with violinist Sergey Khachatryan, even though the young
Armenian has amassed an impressive body of credentials that include a
victory in the prestigious Sibelius competition at the astonishing age of
15, and a subsequent win at the Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels.
His tours of North America have included concerto appearances with most
major orchestras, with the notable exception of the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra. A Ravinia appearance a few years ago has been the only local one
before Friday night's long overdue Chicago debut at Mandel Hall at the
University of Chicago. There he presented illuminating performances of
three sonatas of Beethoven and Shostakovich with his equally gifted sister,
pianist Lusine Khachatryan.
The 26-year-old Armenian seems determined to shed the stereotypical prodigy
label, bearing a repertoire almost entirely constructed from the
established canonical masterworks. One hopes his seriousness of purpose
will one day extend beyond preservation of the canon to its expansion, much
like his heroes Oistrakh and Rostropovich.
The duo's program seemed designed to bypass the composers' most commonly
acknowledged attributes, while highlighting contrasts between the three
pieces in the starkest possible terms. The two early sonatas of Beethoven
avoid the bold and heroic posture of many of his best-loved works in favor
of high spirits and youthful vigor. The brash, mocking Shostakovich is
nowhere to be found in his Violin Sonata of 1968. This birthday present for
David Oistrakh is one of his late, bleak masterworks, a moving portrait of
seething anger and exhausted resignation.
In recordings and in this concert, Khachatryan's sound is sweet and
beguiling, though the volume is not particularly substantial. Fiddle
aficionados might be surprised by his sonic footprint, given his current
use of the renowned 1740 `Ysa˙e' Guarneri owned previously by Isaac Stern
and Pinchas Zukerman, violinists not known for introversion. His range of
sonority in quieter dynamic is remarkable, but over long stretches it can
sound thin and vaguely anemic. Yet once the ear adjusts to the subtleties,
his appropriation of color illuminates his musical purposes with remarkable
nuance and sophistication.
Lusine Khachatryan
Anyone who has suffered the trauma of Thanksgiving political discussions
with relatives knows that gene-sharing is no guarantee of conciliation.
Happily, from the opening pages of Beethoven's A Major Sonata (op. 12, no.
2), the pair made it clear that they were of a single mind, a true dual
collaboration of equals. With Lusine's shapely and transparent passagework
and her brother's feathery touch and diaphanous sound in accompanying
phrases, the two tastefully shifted the focus between them as the score
dictated. Tempos were brisk but organic to the source, and the score's
structure was clear and unforced.
Much the same can be said of the `Spring' Sonata (op. 24), where the
violinist's limpid tone and the pianist's gossamer scales suited the cheery
score perfectly. Both broadened their sound for the finale as the dramatic
discourse was ramped up a few notches.
Khachatryan has spoken of the parallels between Armenia's tragic history
and the profound despair so central to Shostakovich's later years. Still,
no comparison could have prepared the audience for the duo's deeply
penetrating account of the Soviet composer's Sonata for Violin. The
siblings were ideally suited to the skeletal textures and whispered
dynamics of the opening Andante.
Suddenly, all earlier restraint was thrown to the wind in a dizzying
account of the gut-wrenching middle movement. This knife-edged reading was
almost frightening in its ferocity, with severed horsehair, aggressive
pizzicatos that nearly pulled the strings off the violin's bridge, and
thick resonant piano chords that seemed to conjure a chilling and deathly
primal scream. The pale, evaporating final bars sounded not so much like a
creation by Shostakovich as an act of musical surrender.
The duo consented to an encore with a brilliant and blistering Moto
Perpetuo composed by an unnamed fellow Armenian. As if to not completely
surrender the theme of the previous piece, the ancient Dies Irae was
embedded midway.
From: A. Papazian