Pianist (her third from Telarc) features the music of Esa-Pekka Salonen, Steven Stucky and Witold Lutoslawski, all of whom she has worked with. The composers share more than just a working relationship with Cheng in common though; they are (or were in Lutoslawski’s case; he passed away in 1994) friends, colleagues, aesthetic like minds. Lutoslawski is a kind of musical father to the younger two, and a recognizable presence in their music.
Cheng, long familiar to audiences in L.A. and O.C., on faculty at UCLA, a veteran of the film studios, is a different kind of pianist. I’ve never heard her play a note of Chopin or Beethoven or, for that matter, any 19th-century composer, but she’s always around when anything by a living composer needs to be performed. She once received a fax in the wee hours from Pierre Boulez – a new piece written for her. Never one to underline her own feats, she plays the music on her new album with her usual grace and nonchalant virtuosity.
Several of the works here are world premiere recordings, including, surprisingly, Lutoslawski’s 1934 Sonata for Piano, an attractive, dappled and often busy student work in the mold of Ravel and Szymanowski, and almost not at all like the composer’s later music. All in all, it’s not, perhaps, a major work, but it is well made and holds interest.
Several of the pieces here are on the inconsequential side (the composers would say the same). Salonen sketched his Three Preludes (2005) “on airplanes, at airports, in hotel rooms,” anywhere but in his studio. Stucky’s “Four Album Leaves” (2002) and “Three Little Variations for David” (2001) are little more than elegant doodles, but gratifying all the same. Each of these shorter pieces takes a couple of ideas, throws them in the air, turns them over a time or two and signs off. At their best, they’re aphoristic. Stucky’s “Little Variations” are especially fun, each one a variation on the “Happy Birthday” tune, but you might not know it if you aren’t paying close attention.
Salonen’s six-minute “YTA II” is more ambitious, a work from 1985 in his early, European phase. It’s filled with quick bursts of nervous gestures separated by rests, and moves about as erratically as a cricket in the living room. It’s playful as well. We hear the same music from several angles and Salonen somehow gets your ears there. At one point, he leads us on a little chase: We follow a scampering line up and down, then right when we think we’ve caught it, it splits in two, making an escape.
The most impressive work is Salonen’s two-part “Dichotomie,” composed for and dedicated to Cheng. According to the composer, it began as an idea for a short piece, but the potential of his materials soon turned it into something else – namely, a 17-minute dazzler. The first movement, “Mécanisme,” is Prokofiev-like, driven by ostinatos and repeated notes, an energetic rhythmic game with lots of fizz. “Organisme,” the second movement, builds steam more slowly and continuously. One can picture a willowy tree in a gentle breeze gradually overcome by a gale. “Dichotomie” deserves to be taken up by pianists widely.
Cheng opens recital series at Zipper Hall in Los Angeles with a program that includes four of these pieces, “Dichotomie” among them, on Sept. 30. The concert will also provide a good opportunity, no doubt, to pick up this CD.
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