Soprano Asmik Grigorian and pianist Lukas Geniušas find Rachmaninoff’s musical soul in their Berkeley recital

United StatesUnited States Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff: Asmik Grigorian (soprano), Lukas Geniušas (piano). Cal Performances, Hertz Hall, University of California Berkeley, 15.12.2024 (HS)

Soprano Asmik Grigorian at Hertz Hall © Brittany Hosea-Small

Tchaikovsky – ‘Amid the din of the ball’, Op.38, No.3; ‘Again, as before, alone’, Op.73, No.6; ‘None but the lonely heart’, Op.6, No.6; ‘A tear trembles’, Op.6, No.4; Romance in F minor, Op.5; Scherzo humoristique, Op.19, No.2; ‘I bless you, forests’, Op.47, No.5; ‘Do not ask’, Op.57. No.3

Rachmaninov – ‘In the silence of the secret night’, Op.4, No.3; ‘Sing not to me, beautiful maiden’, Op.4, No.4; ‘Child, thou art as beautiful as a flower’, Op.8, No.2; ‘The Dream’, Op.8, No.5; ‘Spring waters’, Op.14, No.11; ‘Oh, do not grieve’, Op.14, No.8; ‘I wait for thee’, Op.14, No.1; Prelude in G-sharp minor, Op.32, No.12; Prelude in D-flat, Op.32, No.13; ‘Twilight’, Op.21, No.3; ‘How fair this spot’, Op.21, No.7; ‘Let us rest’, Op.26, No.3; ‘Dissonance’, Op.34, No.13

In her first West Coast appearance, Lithuanian soprano Asmik Grigorian lived up to expectations, but it took a while. The soprano, much lauded in Europe (especially at the Salzburg Festival), stirred things up this year earlier in New York with an electric portrayal in the title role of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. The Metropolitan Opera quickly signed her up for upcoming stints in the title roles of Jenůfa and Salome.

For this program in the 678-seat Hertz Hall, she steered away from the drama of operatic arias. Instead, she focused on more intimate settings by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff of such poets as Tolstoy and Pushkin, and in the original Russian. If the first half, all Tchaikovsky, leaned heavily toward the melancholy, the treasures of this recital lay with the more varied and often spectacularly incisive renderings of Rachmaninoff’s songs

Although Grigorian’s beautifully focused, clear and pliant voice rose to magnificent climaxes in several of the Tchaikovsky songs, the quieter phrases never quite bloomed to provide the textures that can make them so telling. There were no such quibbles possible in the Rachmaninoff songs. The soprano relished all the composer’s musical turns and contrasts with a beguiling seamlessness, and Russian-Lithuanian pianist Lukas Geniušas shared a unanimity of intent that made these pieces come to life. She just seemed more comfortable in Rachmaninoff’s sweeping, more expressive musical world.

A good number of the Rachmaninoff songs were actually written for bass or baritone voices, and Grigorian’s unforced, expansive production on notes below the staff paid dividends. In the first Rachmaninoff song, ‘In the silence of the secret night’, her voice traced an arc from hesitant touches between prospective lovers to explosive romance, soft-edged at first, low notes leading to a rhythmic and exciting finish. The music rose to a satisfying intensity in the second song, ‘Sing not to me, beautiful maiden’, and the next, ‘Child, thou are as beautiful as a flower’, felt like an intimate conversation, sung with a gorgeous tone.

‘Spring waters’, the first of three songs from the Op.14 Twelve Romances, rose to a thrilling climax on the last stanza and the audience, which kept a respectful silence between all the previous songs, could not resist an impetuous ovation. ‘Oh, do not grieve’, which followed, felt like a long, warm embrace, more positive than the lament it seemed to be on the surface.

Throughout all this, Geniušas shaped the piano’s music – in these songs more than simply a colorful accompaniment – with great attention to detail. He shaded phrases to set up a contrast to what was about to be sung. His touch could be delicate, and at other times rhythmically gauged to drive the music to a resounding climax.

At a midpoint in both halves, Geniušas bridged the song sets with short pieces. Rachmaninoff’s Prelude No.12 in G-sharp and No.13 in D-flat may not be the most famous of the composer’s iconic two dozen, but they got shapely performances that accentuated an ability to find supple textures while maintaining rhythmic vitality. The fluttering decorations in the G-sharp Prelude made a perfect halo to the melody, and the broad chords and octaves of the D-flat Prelude couldn’t have been more majestic.

Perhaps the most effective songs in the whole afternoon came in the next set. ‘How fair this spot’, a quiet description of a serene location, draws an arc from a river that ‘glitters like fire’ to a final line, ‘and you, my dream’, Grigorian’s high pianissimo floating on that phrase against subtle caresses on the piano. ‘We shall rest’ explored the lower reaches of her voice, which never succumbed to pressure.

In contrast with these marvelous performances, the Tchaikovsky songs did not articulate such specificity. There was surprisingly little rubato; the songs trod forward but without much purpose. The soft textures Grigorian found in the Rachmaninoff songs were missing with Tchaikovsky, needing more variety in tone than the straightforward, admittedly lovely sound the soprano maintained. As a result, the music did not do what it can in the best art songs – fill in details of the pictures the poetry tries to paint.

Perhaps the point was to create a contrast between the moods, using Tchaikovsky’s doleful songs in the first half to set up the generally positive messages, both musically and in the words, in the Rachmaninoff songs. To my ears, it wasn’t necessary to emphasize the differences.

The highlights of the first half were Geniušas’s piano solo pieces. They may have been relatively obscure among the composer’s piano works, but they fit nicely in the frankly lugubrious emotional fog. The Romance in F minor Op.5 flowed easily under his touch, and the rapid-fire blaze of notes in the Scherzo humoristique Op.19, No.2 emerged legato without losing the beat — without the percussive touch usually heard from other pianists.

The lone encore was Rachmaninoff’s ‘Do not believe me, my friend’, another song from the Op.14 set of romances, to a Tolstoy poem assuring a spurned partner that it won’t be the end of their relationship. It was something of a calling card for Russian singers such as Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Galina Gorchakova. Grigorian and Geniušas found the thread and spun it out with precision.

Harvey Steiman

Featured Image: Soprano Asmik Grigorian and pianist Lukas Geniušas at Hertz Hall © Brittany Hosea-Small

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