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heard so many great pianos in one room. I’ve played Rubinstein’s piano given to him by Israel, a gorgeous mezzo beast, and a few of Horowitz’s instruments, all of them shimmering, with extraor- dinary rises. But this morning was a synthesis of every instrument I had been lucky enough to play.
Rise is the sudden lift or break of the tenor’s voice, the passaggio from a normal tenor steel into a sfogo, the ethereal and impossibly thrilling vocal realm where the sun is unleashed, which only the greatest tenors can produce, the eco sonora of Pavarotti, Caruso, Bjoerling, Schipa, Gigli, Corelli, di Stéfano. This squillo, or ringing voice, rises above entire orchestras and is the most chilling and sublime operatic experience imaginable.
In a piano, the rise is a moment when the power of the accumulated volume of a piano being played fairly loudly exceeds the sum of
its parts and takes off into the stratosphere, aston- ishing and thrilling everyone, including the pianist. It is when a piano jumps beyond its earth-bound tonalities into a world above the clouds, where the sun is unstoppable and the blue of the sky is al- most black. Pavarotti called it the “solar” moment. Like the greatest tenors, only the greatest pianos have this ability to lift into another voice entirely at a certain point.
It isn’t just the treble, as it is with tenors. With
a piano, it’s all three registers. It’s the ability
of the bass to growl beyond mere notes, until it becomes a wolf, an animal. It’s the ability of the treble to ring with extreme brilliance without breaking up or becoming shrill. Most important, it’s the ability of the mid-range, the baritone range of the piano, where most human voices fall, to sing out with a steely timbre that cuts to your heart. Like the caramel taste of a great Meursault, a Romanée-Conti Montrachet, or a Peter Michael
2018 Summer Season 61