There was some kind of magic at the Manoel Theatre last Tuesday evening.
It was an uncommon performance. That the four musicians taking part are all brilliant performers is well-known enough. One of them, John Maclaughlin Williams, is an accomplished violinist, pianist and conductor.
The only woman and only Maltese in the line-up, Jennifer Micallef, is well-known as part of the renowned piano-duo she forms with Glenn Inanga, also present. Wayne Marshall, is also an accomplished organist, conductor and pianists.
As pianists, all four sat two at a piano and provided the very unusual piano eight-hand performance of a number of popular works.
These were introduced by Maclaughlin Williams, who proves to be a most entertaining raconteur and presenter. (So is Marshall, given half a chance.) He outlined the development of this particular form of music-making which helped popularise these works played as they were in the intimacy of private homes and gatherings.
The rapport with the audience was superb, and every moment was cherished as the quartet of pianists went through piece after piece in a crescendo of excitement, much to the delight of all present. Their joy in their music-making was highly infectious to say the least.
The programme included three overtures to operas, one of which, the sparkling introduction to Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro, was described as probably one of the oldest such transcriptions for piano eight-hands.
The majestic one to Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg was a fittingly impressive opening to the concert, and further sparkle and dash came later with the overture to Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia.
The very obviously martial overtones to the Rákóczi March from Berlioz’s La Damnation de Faust found a similar reflection in Chopin’s Polonaise in A, Op. 40, N.1, ‘Military’, the only work performed which was originally composed for piano.
The beauty in these transcriptions is that by means of the keyboard, the clever arrangements project textures, nuances and sonorities very close to the original works.
There was much to recommend the exotic colours of Chabrier’s España and Dvorák’s Slavonic dance in G minor, Op. 46, N.8 , originally for two pianos, was even more enhanced in the piano eight-hand arrangement.
The playing was crisp, decisive and exciting, and nothing lacked in sardonic humour in Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre, Op.40, with demons and rattling skeletons having fun in a mad waltz.
There may have been no war-like whoops in Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries, although I would not have been surprised had some of the pianists (not difficult to guess whom) indulged in their version of those war-cries. This excellent arrangement conveyed all the evocative excitement inherent in a piece with its multiple climactic build-ups.
The same could be said of the various phases in the last number, Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.
There was one particular climax at the beginning which was in some danger of falling foul of rapid page turning and the fast changing tempo that almost threatened to put the piece in tilt. But this was recouped most cleverly, and the piece sailed on to its magnificent concluding climax complete with crashing chords simulating artillery fire.
The audience would not let go of the quartet of pianists who regaled the public with an encore: the even faster and crisply rendered Sabre Dance by Khachaturian.