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Words by Chang Tou Liang |
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The duo make a very handsome couple, with the elegant Micallef’s indigo, lightly tinseled evening gown complemented by Inanga’s black suit, which had a matching handkerchief and stripe down his left side. Maintained their places on the pianos throughout the recital (with Micallef on the audience’s left and facing Inanga). and they performed this almost two-hour long programme totally from memory, a considerable feat in itself. Only in 2006 could the unlikely bed-partners of Mozart and Shostakovich be coupled, and this recital showed how it is done with aplomb. The programme began with Mozart’s Sonata in D major K.448, a staple of the 2-piano repertoire. The opening movement demonstrated the rare chemistry that exists between two long-time dedicated piano partners (as opposed to ill-matched celebrity pianists forced to gel together in over-subscribed festivals). The distribution of the piano parts was unerring and there was a reassuring sense of give and take, which made the virtuosic turns sound ever more convincing. There was calm and respite in the slow movement while the concluding Rondo was taken with an easy and almost nonchalant stride that was a total contrast to the frenetic pace set in the first movement. They clearly showed that Mozart’s music could still breathe without the prestidigitation that young pianists of today so favour. More Mozart followed by way of Busoni’s Duettino Concertante, which is a witty transcription of the finale of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.19 in F major (K.459). Its contrapuntal possibilities was what so greatly attracted the Bach-enamoured Busoni, and the inevitable fugue with taken with much lightness of texture and clarity by the duo. Busoni added a cadenza of his own and the music ended with an uncharacteristic lack of bombast. The only Shostakovich contribution was the appropriately light Concertino in A minor Op.94, written for his teenaged son Maxim. A close cousin to the Second Piano Concerto (also written for him), it had moments of mock-seriousness, a simple and uncluttered main theme and the requisite frills that made up the fireworks. Performed with the playfulness and tongue-in-cheek drollery, the fun and games continued from where Mozart left. The duo was clearly attuned to this idiom. It was in Ravel’s warhorse La Valse that both pianists were put to the most severe test in the evening. The murky opening from the depths of the keyboard was shorn of its mystery, and it was evident that all stops were to be pulled from the outset. Then it was no-holds barred, edge-of-the-seat stuff (to quote a clearly impressed music-lover seated on my right), where all sorts of risks were taken. There were heart-in-mouth moments where it seemed the ensemble would perilously careen off its tracks, but no, the insistent rhythm maintained kept that fear in check. Blinding glissandi rained like thunderbolts hurled from Mount Olympus but there were also rapt moments where Micallef’s pianism evoked harp-like textures, which magically made one forget the orchestra if albeit momentarily. The closest thing that came to this performance in this trip to the SAR was HK Disneyland’s Space Mountain, a thrilling experience. The second half of the recital resumed with more warhorses, beginning with Rachmaninov’s indestructible Suite No.2 Op.17. The opening march was taken resolutely but without the percussive edge that often made it hectoring and overbearing, and it was the prestidigitation (yes, it had to come finally!) of the vertiginous Waltz that impressed most. Taking at breakneck tempo, it was an achievement beggaring belief that accuracy was never sacrificed for flashiness or the impression of velocity. Only the Romance came as a disappointment. The languorous journey from its hushed opening to ecstatic climax just unfolded too soon, with most of its sensuous foreplay efficiently dispatched with. The closing Tarantella brought more pyrotechnics, and when it was thought scarcely possible for more adrenaline to flow, the duo was more than abundantly supplied. Most recitals would have ended on this high note but Micallef (now attired in a rosy red gown) and Inanga had one more piece up their collective sleeves - Gershwin’s An American in Paris. This transcription by Gershwin’s own hand predates the more famous orchestral version, and is equally busy. Some details this listener hadn’t expected came through in this very satisfying performance. For example, a sequence of triplets just after the opening taxi-horn fanfare was pure Debussy (the Fetes from his Trois Nocturnes), which definitely lends credibility to its title. The “blues” section could have taken on a more self-indulgent lilt by Inanga, who provided the rhythm, but it is the combined efforts of both pianists that won the day in this gratifying crowd-pleaser. Just for the record, there were two encores demanded by an enthusiastic and well-behaved audience. Milhaud’s Brasileira from Scaramouche, with some naughty-but-nice touches and the minute-long Wild Horses from Carnival of the Animals, whose unimpeded stampede brought on yet more cheers. An embarrassment of riches indeed.
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This is rather corny, but I just cannot resist quoting from the hit song by Sir Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.
More Inkpot! 
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