United States Prokofiev, Tsfasman: Yuja Wang (piano and director), Mahler Chamber Orchestra / Matthew Truscott (concertmaster and leader). San Francisco Symphony Great Performers Series, Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco, 26.4.2026. (HS)
Prokofiev – Piano Concerto No.2 in G minor; Symphony No.1 in D major
Tsfasman – Jazz Suite for Piano and Orchestra
Yuja Wang strode to the piano on 6-inch Laboutin heels, acknowledged enthusiastic applause from the packed Davies Hall audience and sat down. Briefly. Within seconds, she stood up again to face the orchestra and conduct the first somber, legato bars of Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No.2 with clear and expressive gestures. She was back at the keyboard a few seconds later in a seamless transition to playing the piano’s opening statement – all with her usual elegance.
I cannot recall other concert pianists standing up to conduct the orchestra while soloing in a concerto. It is not unusual for keyboard artists to conduct Bach from the harpsichord or Mozart from the piano bench, but in this concerto, Wang got up to spread her arms and encourage the instrumentalists with broad musical gestures, occasionally pinching her fingers to get a specific finish to a phrase. When conducting, she was doing much more than just beating time.
At the piano, she coaxed colorful, pungent phrases from the solo contributions to Prokofiev’s 1913 concerto (in its 1923 revision). Though it might be difficult to correct any balance issues in a complex concerto from the piano bench without a full-time conductor, there were no problems here. Every note was clear.
This all-Russian program paired the concerto with Prokofiev’s Symphony No.1 (which dates from 1917). The pieces framed a less-familiar piano suite by one of Soviet Russia’s earliest proponents of jazz, Alexander Tsfasman. Written in 1945, it felt like a refreshing intermezzo between the two towering Prokofiev pieces. All the works emerged vividly, with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra contributing feisty energy, well-targeted rhythms and remarkable synergy with Wang. Even without constant cues from Wang (or from concertmaster Matthew Truscott, for that matter), the orchestra played with a unanimity that often felt like chamber music. Its range from subtle delicacy to raging fortissimos was impressive.
The Prokofiev concerto got off to a pulsing start. It moved at a steady pace at first but then got increasingly lively. The big, crashing moments from both the pianist and the full orchestra managed muscle without clanging. The delicate finish to the first movement, in which the pianist and the principal cellist plunk a quiet final resolution in unison, was especially fine.
The second movement Scherzo took off in a breathless whirlwind as the orchestra and Wang supported each other with finesse. The Intermezzo thumped along with a swagger. The Finale took off at breakneck speed, living up to the score’s Allegro tempestoso, and with Wang’s hands making double octaves dance with a disarmingly bubbly flow.
In the Prokofiev Symphony No.1, the orchestra stood (except for the cellists and tuba player). That seemed to loosen any formalities, and they played with unabridged joy. Many of the players could be seen grinning at Prokofiev’s witty music as they hit their marks with precision. The insouciant Gavotte was especially attractive, and the Molto vivace finale did not miss its musical winks as it flew by.
Back in their seats, the orchestra provided a less-challenging backdrop for Jazz Suite, Tsfasman’s challenge to Gershwin in marrying jazz with a symphonic framework. In the opening measures of the first movement, Snowflakes, marked Allegro vivace, the orchestra didn’t quite keep up with Wang’s expertly executed sprinklings of light-handed, rapid-fire pianism, but things came together better as the tempo relaxed. In the second movement, Lyrical Waltz, Wang found soul in the simplicity of a sweet melody and a gently lilting dance vibe. Wang’s previous forays into jazz-inflected music stand out for their ability to combine classical precision with a true jazz feel, as here when she got an extra bump into the otherwise ‘square’ Polka. The finale, a romp where speed rules, came to a lively finish.
Tsfasman was the first Soviet musician to lead a jazz recording in the 1920s, but his somewhat blocky style does not quite rise to the efforts of his contemporary Shostakovich, who wrote two jazz suites in the 1930s that ended up as movie scores. The work performed here owes plenty to Gershwin’s forms, especially the expansion of simple tunes into broad, full-orchestra reprises and a focus on jiggly dance rhythms.
Wang gifted the enthusiastic audience with three encores, starting with Philip Glass’s Étude No.6, a piece she has used often as an encore. She conjured a subtle, dreamy feeling in the opening before relishing the grand reprise at its climax which, in its way, echoed the form of the Étude. Chopin’s Nocturne No.2 in C minor echoes the same framework, which made me smile as much for that thought as for her brilliant playing.
A piano arrangement of Mexican composer Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No.2, originally written for full orchestra, first folds Latino phrasings into a minimalist frame, its earworm tune suggesting everything from rumba to tango. With a nod from Wang, two bass players and a percussionist on claves added a rhythmic base. Gradually, some delicate use of cymbals and a wooden box used as a drum added more color. And then it all finished gently.
If that all sounds like musical magic, it was.
Harvey Steiman