Liszt's Etudes d'exécution transcendante are as daunting as their title suggests. For the listener, the sustained testosterone-charged flamboyance of the 12 Transcendental Studies, which together last well over an hour, can be exhausting; for the performer, they are an inestimable challenge of technical ability. Almost any pianist would be taking a more or less calculated risk by choosing to perform these studies, and Freddy Kempf is no exception. But this willingness to take chances is one of the things that make this young pianist's recitals so exciting.
Striding on to the platform, Kempf launched into the first, decisive major chord of the Preludio almost before the audience had had a chance to settle down. A similarly unapologetic, almost confrontational approach pervaded most of the studies - Kempf tackled them head-on to the extent that he seemed to be fighting against the thick swathes of notes rather than being the medium through which they were transmitted to the audience.
Nor did he always come out clearly on top in this battle. There were some wrong or missed notes, and at times Kempf found it difficult to project Liszt's well-hidden melodies smoothly from within these thickly written scores. Indeed, he often sought refuge in the sheer volume of the noise he was producing. His triple fortissimos were certainly powerful - the Wigmore Hall piano has rarely had that much sound drawn from it - but, with every climax pushed as far as it would go, some lost their impact and began to seem unrelenting rather than momentous. Still, a spirit of heroism prevailed, never more so than in the fourth study, Mazeppa - a lengthy, pictorial episode which sends both of the pianist's hands careering wildly up and down the keyboard, and which Kempf dispatched with bravado.
It was in the more relaxed studies that Kempf's considerable musicianship really had a chance to shine through. The melody of the third, Paysage, was picked out beautifully from the inner lines, and the fifth, Feux-follets, was offered up with graceful delicacy. The ninth, Ricordanza, was an oasis of calm, played with wistful tenderness.
The second half, shorter by far than the first, was devoted to Chopin - the Andante spianato et Grande Polonaise, followed by the Ballade No 3 in A flat. These were better vehicles for Kempf's strengths; the Polonaise was poised and radiant, while the lilting melodies of the Ballade were lyrically phrased.
It seemed that while the impassioned passages of the Liszt section had brought out latent aggression in Kempf, these Chopin pieces gave him the space to perform with his usual thoughtful spontaneity. If he could find a way to apply this subtlety and reticence to his performance of the Transcendental Studies, it might yield great results.
