What can be most difficult to assess about an expert performance is that which is missing. Words can easily be found to describe playing that makes us feel as if it is the only thing happening in a hall packed with a thousand souls. Capturing this “it,” when the “it” is there, is child’s play: when “it’s” there, words come flowing like the ocean on a high tide.
The challenge is to explain that elusive, yet palpable element that disturbs one’s innate aesthetic in an otherwise highly polished performance. That lack of “something” that lets us check our phones or drift away in our thoughts, even when the performance is good. Recognizing that which is unheard, yet whose absence is subtly felt—that is a critic’s skill.
Oh, who are we kidding? Every critic revels in ripping apart a performance that is ever so slightly distasteful to them. And words come running like a pack of wolves hurling towards a fawn.
The Questions and the Answer
First, a little context. The Cliburn semifinals follow a rigorous two-phase trial: each participant performs a one-hour solo recital followed by the performance of a Mozart concerto with orchestra. A two-step semifinal is rare but not unheard of among music competitions (the Queen Elisabeth Competition—another member of the piano Grand Slam—requires it too). All performances take place in Bass Performance Hall, a lovely venue with challenging acoustics for some soloists, located downtown Fort Worth.
Repertoire choices for the recital phase are made at participants’ own discretion. Among the 12 semi-finalists, few have presented classical or baroque works over the course of the competition, while none have performed a Prelude and Fugue by J. S. Bach.
Semifinal programs are heavily skewed towards 20th-century Russian (12 works by five different composers) and late Romantic German repertoire (10 works by four different composers). The remaining works are by Chopin (5, Polish), Ravel (4, French), Liszt (2, Hungarian), William Bolcom and George Gershwin (1 each, USA), Thomas Adès (1, UK), peppered with a few arrangements of Bach by Busoni and Hess. One participant presented his own transcription of Liszt’s Symphonic Poem. In phase two, the Mozart concerti were chosen by each candidate based on a list provided by the competition.
The semi-finalists come from eight different countries, including two dual citizens: four are Asian, three are from North America, three are European, and two are Russian (including an Israeli). Among them are ten men and two women (16%).
In total, only four women out of 28 contestants have been admitted to this year’s Cliburn (14%)—a curiously uneven proportion compared to 33% among the semi-finalists in the concurrent Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels (eight out of 24). Yet five out of the nine Cliburn jury members are women. Are men really better at tickling the ivory keys, or are we witnessing a case of gender bias? What pressure must these two female Cliburn contestants feel as they compete in such circumstances?
Day 1 (May 28): The Questions
Aristo Sham in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
The semifinals opened with a recital by Hong Kong China’s Aristo Sham. Playing in front of a half-filled hall, the 29-year-old presented a Russian program consisting of Rachmaninov’s arrangement of Bach’s Violin Partita in E Major BWV 1006, followed by a rarely played Sonata n.10, op.70 by Alexander Scriabin, closing with Rachmaninov’s Etudes-Tableaux op.39.
Opening with Bach’s famous Preludio, Sham displayed a high degree of polish, rivalling Rachmaninov’s own recording of this work. Sham’s intent listening, clear delivery of contrapuntal lines, and wonderful sense of style fit perfectly with the original work’s Baroque lightness and character. Following this work was Scriabin’s tenth sonata, an unusual piece even by today’s standards. Sham demonstrated exceptional control and refinement, offering much needed variety from the standard competition repertoire.
Yet, one gets a quiet sense that Sham plays behind a curtain. For all his polish, he holds back. It feels that Sham presents more craft than creativity, more art than unadulterated substance. As impressive as it was to witness Sham deliver Rachmaninov’s complete Etudes-Tableaux op.39, he missed the punch line on a few occasions in terms of the raw emotional connection with the music. He’s telling a story but does not plunge into it. These pieces are so dark, so personal, that something must ring inside you—pain, despair, or sadness over a large emotional arch.
Not all music needs this type of ‘from-the-gut’ performance to be effective, as Sham demonstrated in the first half of his program. Yet, when playing Rachmaninov, rather than a polished performance, what is needed is something more raw, unfiltered, powerful, and vulnerable. This is where Sham’s performance seemed ambiguous: the high degree of polish and powerful sound impressed but didn’t grab. An audience needs blood, not artifice.
Elia Cecino in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
Following a short pause, the young Italian Elia Cecino made his way tentatively towards the piano, betraying his youth (23). Much can be forgiven by youth’s tender buds. But not boredom.
Cecino opened with the unusual Nocturne op.10 No. 1 by Tchaikovsky. The audience immediately sensed a different and ambiguous presence. On the one hand, more spontaneity, freedom, and poetry than the previous contestant. On the other, Cecino’s playing is hampered by shyness and a possible lack of confidence. This ambiguity left us questioning: is Tchaikovsky’s work boring and irrelevant or are the performer’s peculiarities hindering the musical tale?
After a good start with Schumann’s Sonata n.1 op.11, the pianist’s profile soon emerges: while sensitive to each moment, Cecino lacks the architectural conception, focus, and maturity. He is a good musician who, at his best, radiates. But these are fleeting moments. One senses something indifferent in Cecino’s performance, mixing curiously with the young artist’s spontaneity and freedom.
Cecino brought a surprise performance in Gubaidulina’s aptly named Toccata-Troncata. Just as we started doubting if Cecino had “it” in him, he delivered his best work of the night. The end of the toccata, surprising transition to Prokofiev’s Sonata n.7 op.83 along with its 3rd movement were the best moments of the evening—real, improvised, true to the moment and to the music. It’s a pity we had to wait an hour to get there.
Day 2 (May 29): The Answer
The second day of semifinals brought some answers to the previous day’s doubts, quibbles, and ambiguities. What we heard on day two were two opposite sides of the same coin: true artistry. I shall call them the “obvious” and the “unobvious.”
Angel Stanislav Wang in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
Approaching the piano was a shy, tall young man with a long name, Angel Stanislav Wang (22). The young American bowed with simplicity and a warm, disarming smile. On the extremities of his black jacket, near his wrists, he wore white cuffs or sleeve endings (hard to tell): a unique fashion detail.
As he sat down at the piano, we saw him turn into a young tiger. Within the first three notes of Beethoven’s Appassionata—a descending minor triad into the abyss—it became clear that Wang is young artist focused on the music, not playing for show (although not shying away from the spotlight), and not afraid to go for it at the expense of total precision. Wang doesn’t “take the music out of his pocket” as Artur Rubinstein used to say. He has that which is needed for a solo recital: an intensity that can be turned up or down, but never off.
Next came an excellent performance of Bolcom’s two etudes demonstrating the candidate’s ability to play for a large hall with rich, filling sound. These are interesting works, refreshingly modern for a mostly standard competition repertoire. A commendable choice.
Wang closed his recital with an outstanding rendition of Mussorgsky’s famed Pictures at an Exhibition. This masterpiece—arranged for orchestra by Ravel and others—is a standard competition warhorse for many pianists. Yet Wang’s interpretation was fresh, sincere, and compelling. He took us with him through each hallway of the exhibition, jumping in and out of each painting. He delivered a wonderfully playful Tuileries (Children’s quarrels after games), a memorable Samuel Goldenberg and Schmüyle, and an excellent and refreshingly warm Cum mortuis in lingua morta. After embarking on a roller coaster in Baba Yaga, he brought the performance to an explosive climax leading up to the final movement, The Great Gates of Kiev.
There was nothing ambiguous about Wang’s stage presence or his artistic intentions. He has the assurance and charisma of a potential Cliburn prize winner. The only reservation is that he performed “obviously” dramatic music. While challenging, these works offer clear interpretive paths—for those brave enough to take them. Could he deliver as great a performance with something more sophisticated and nuanced?
Jonas Aumiller in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
This alternative was provided by the next candidate, Jonas Aumiller of Germany (26). Right from the ascending D major scale, Aumiller demonstrated cultivated musicianship, maturity, and rare depth. He transported us to Bach’s Lutheran Germany: his interpretation was sincere, unpretentious, without excesses—just the right balance for Bach and Busoni. Compared to Wang, he showed us the advantage that only a few extra years of maturity can bring in terms of the depth of artistic expression. This was the “unobvious”.
What followed was nothing short of a masterclass of concert performance. Aumiller’s rendition of Brahms’s op.118 was an example of thorough, deep, humble, true, and unambiguous musicianship that should be sought by all. He does not play to impress, but lets the intrinsic greatness of the music come through. It takes an artist of the highest quality to deliver such a performance.
The opening A minor Intermezzo showed his maturity and humility. He then played the A major Intermezzo naturally, with simplicity and sincerity. A great example of how music can be communicated: softly through your heart, not only through your gut. Jonas drew us into Brahms’s world, a quiet room with a grand piano, a life of regrets, love, and sadness. Aumiller has that rare soft, powerful charisma combined with a heavenly touch. An ideal Brahms interpreter.
After a magnificently seamless transition into Chopin’s 2nd Impromptu, Aumiller’s soft light permeated the audience with a calm focus. Listening intently, his presence is constant; he turns the dial up or down only when needed. The last work was a brilliant original arrangement of Liszt’s Les Préludes, Symphonic Poem n.3.
Day 3 (May 30): The Ravel Show
Yanjun Chen in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
Opening the third day of the competition was China’s 23-year-old Yanjun Chen. She stepped onto the stage confidently wearing a stunning green dress that contrasted poignantly with the red and purple background lighting. Chen started her program tenderly. Opening with Chopin’s Ballade n.2, she showed wonderful sound control given the unfriendly acoustics. As the first female contestant to perform a recital, I was optimistic to hear the rest of her program.
Then came the first shock. Chen exploded feverishly into the virtuoso section with an abandon bordering on the caricature. Within a minute, her playing became irritating and distasteful. The case of a stubborn personality with limitless technical abilities overpowering the music for showmanship purposes. The slow opening of Chopin’s Etude op.10 n.3 showed Chen can be compelling and delicately nuanced; her sensitivity towards the beautifully tender, slower sections of Chopin was sincere, if slightly affected. The bold dramatic parts, however, betrayed her impatience and youth.
In contrast, under Chen’s able hands, Ravel’s Jeux d’eau was perfect, while the colours she produced out of the higher registers seduced like the call of a siren. She demonstrated exceptional imagination throughout the instrument’s entire frequency and dynamic range. The pianist blossomed in Ravel’s fluid music, showing effortless mastery and a complete understanding of the nuances needed for this composer. This music paints and brushes—it’s intuitive rather than intellectual. Chen’s rendition fit perfectly with the sensorial impressionistic musicality.
And then, yet another surprise as she embarked on Schumann’s towering Kreisleriana before the applause died down. Awkward or arrogant, her stage presence when acknowledging the public is among the most bizarre among this year’s semi-finalists. Once again, Chen splits right down the middle: one moment, she shows the richest colour palette heard at the competition; the next, her impulsive approach becomes tiresome. Her passages are so fast and chaotic that they sound full of wrong notes. An unfortunate lack of maturity in a brilliantly talented pianist.
Evren Ozel in the Semifinal round of the Seventeenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. Photo: Ralph Lauer
The last of the first six recitalists was American Evren Ozel. He entered slowly and confidently, giving us the impression of control and stability. Ozel’s Liszt was simply beautiful, balanced, and brought us back to the kind of musicianship we had heard the day before with Jonas Aumiller.
I was curious to hear Ozel’s Gaspard de la nuit. From the opening bars of Ondine, it was clear that this was a young master enjoying all the colours he could extract from his instrument, revelling in all the nuances. A quiet mastery of all the elements: humble virtuosity, imagination, listening, and maturity.. Ozel’s Gibet was played with total sincerity and beauty. He sits, listens, and the music speaks. The Scarbo was more demonic. Fittingly, the pianist’s body was completely devoted to the music, bending and rising with every mounting phrase.
And then came the ultimate test. The pyramid. The obelisk. The arc de triomphe: Beethoven’s Sonata op.111. One pianist only, to my knowledge, has recorded the definite gold standard: Claudio Arrau. As another concert pianist put it, there are two kinds of pianists: those who play the first movement well, and those who play the second movement well.
Unfortunately, Ozel was one of the latter. He began with two false starts—flubbing a few notes through the infamous octave jumps in the beginning. What ensued can be best described as a Romantic interpretation—a problematic decision from the young keyboard master. The tempo was too fast, notes were swallowed, rubato and messa di voce added where they shouldn’t be. Ozel was still mired in the impressionistic sound world of Liszt and Ravel. From the interpretive side at least, his Beethoven was not living up to expectations.
This continued in the 2nd movement, Adagio molto semplice e cantabile, which he performed like a Schubert Lied. Ozel’s playing is undoubtedly beautiful, but too indulgent. The borderline is thin, and it was sadly crossed. Yet even with Ozel’s excitable, impressionistic, and romantic interpretation, we got a bit of heaven at the end. It’s forgivable and we owe him much respect overall.
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