Page 495 - Aldeburgh Festival 2022 FINAL COVERAGE BOOK
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sweet serenity. This served as a period of calm before the storm; an intensely
               emotional and deeply expressive performance of Mozart’s dark Fantasie No.3
               in  the  dramatic  key  of  D  minor  K.397.  Haydn’s  B  minor  Sonata  was  deftly
               executed,  sandwiched  between  a  dazzling  account  of  Mozart’s  delicately
               wrought Rondo in D K.485, and a joyous realisation of Mozart’s ebullient Kleine
               Gigue,  K.574.  The  first  half  concluded  with  more  Mozart;  a  penetrating
               interpretation  of  the  three-movement Sonata  facile in C (K.545),  which
               conveyed,  in  turn,  steely  precision,  heart-rending  tenderness  and  child-like
               innocence.

               The second part of the evening, quipped Ólafsson, ‘would take a turn for the

               worse’. Apart from the rippling stillness of the Larghetto from Galuppi’s Sonata
               No.34 in C, the rest of the programme was dominated by ever more complex
               works  written  by  Mozart  in  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  including  three
               brooding adagios, beginning with the pianist’s adaptation of the Adagio from
               the String Quintet in G minor, K.516. Here Ólafsson conjured from his piano, a
               muted, translucent, and silky timbre. In vivid contrast and closer in texture and
               intensity to late Beethoven came Sonata No.14 in C minor K.457 with its urgent
               and      dramatic Molto        allegro first     movement,        poignant Adagio, and
               introspective Allegro  assai finale, each  phrase  lustrous  and  perfectly  crafted.
               The  evening  ended  -well  almost  –  on  a  deeply  reverential  note,  with  Liszt’s
               serenely  beautiful  transcription  of Ave  Verum  Corpus. As  Mozart  said,  ‘The
               music is not the notes, but the silence in between.’
               ‘After Ave Verum, it’s hard to play an encore’ said Ólafsson, before dedicating
               one to the memory of the great Rumanian concert pianist Radu Lupu who died
               in April of this year. He chose neither Mozart nor one of his contemporaries, but
               Bartók and a wistful account of his Three Hungarian Dances. These were played
               with uncommon lightness of touch, and provided a phenomenal, dare one say
               awe-inspiring conclusion to a mesmerizing evening.

               Chris Sallon
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