Kyung Mi Lee

Italian pianist Michelangelo Carbonara and his cellist wife from South Korea, the lovely Kyung Mi Lee, put their talent to very noble use.

For six consecutive years Carbonara has been appearing annually at the Kempinski San Lawrenz in Gozo. He has also performed at the Victoria International Arts Festival, at least once with his wife.

This was their second appearance as a duo at the Kempinski. All the recitals organised there by the tireless Sonja Sinclair-Stevenson have been in aid of two worthy charities, both are based on the sister island. One is the Friends of the Sick and the Elderly in Gozo, the other one operates Happy Moments in Kenya.

This music duo is deservedly popular and held in great affection by the audiences which follow their quite exceptional performances. The entire first half of this year’s concert was Carbonara’s, performing as he did Liszt’s transcription for solo piano of Beethoven’s popular Symphony N. 5 in C Minor.

Liszt had a great penchant for doing such things, and no easy ones are they in the process. The Hungarian keyboard wizard had, anyway, a great ability to make works for solo piano sound as if they were projecting orchestral effects.

Therefore, while undoubted familiarity with the original version could well bewail the absence of a real orchestra, I do not think it really mattered all that much.

The spirit of the original was well served and projected in the piano transcription.

The dilemma in this case was simple: is one really hearing the piano producing orchestral effects, or is the ear unable to detach itself from the original it is accustomed to?

The best thing to do was to appreciate and enjoy the transcription for what it was, because it certainly projected the mood of defiance, of reflection, tenderness and strongly explosive jubilation which crowns it.

The dazzling rapidity in some passages in the first movement, which here and there resulted in a slight reduction of articulation, was but a minor consideration when taking the entire performance into consideration. The end result was a glorious exercise, no more and no less.

A great ability to make works for solo piano sound as if they were projecting orchestral effects

The evening’s highlight among highlights was the Cello Sonata N. 1 in E minor. Since perfection is only for angels, the partnership worked very close to it.

In this gorgeous sonata Brahms makes it quite clear that both instruments are at an equal level of prominence in which each instrument takes turns to shine and lead.

When the two are combined, nothing less than utter brilliance is the result. It certainly did not lack here. The Valse Triste by Sibelius is better known in its version for violin and piano or violin and orchestra.

The warmer tone of the cello, so close to the human voices, adds a poignant touch to this work which lives very much to its title, although there is a sort of happier reaction to the general mood before sinking back into noble despondency.

In complete contrast was a selection of three Hungarian dances by Brahms in arrangements for cello and piano. The first was that perennial favourite, N. 5 in F# Minor with fast and slow sections alternating with slower ones.

The dances were colourful, at times with a touch of melancholy always surfacing. This set off better the more lively and energetic sections common to all three. All of them ended in a spirited flourish. More languid was Piazzolla’s Oblivion, while decidedly sensual was Libertango.

Knowing that the audience would want more, the duo obliged with four encores. This was music by de Falla, Pane Moruño and Polo, followed by Morricone’s from the films The Mission and Cinema Paradiso.