Pianist Myrna Setiawan is in a league of her own

Pianist Myrna Setiawan is in a league of her own

By Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan

JAKARTA (JP): A great interpretation must sound inevitable,
and concert pianist Myrna Setiawan did just that Saturday with
Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto.

Just as she has done since she blasted onto the Jakarta music
scene. In her fourth collaboration with the Nusantara Chamber
Orchestra (NCO), Myrna was, as usual, the rhythm, the timing, the
accentuation, the phrasing, the pedaling -- the music itself.
Every moment, quite simply, belonged to her.

She didn't languish in every potential moment to provoke
"feeling", no lingering rubato, no ornate moments, no cheapening
of sensitivity. The same principle applied to her virtuosic
approach. No speeding for velocity's sake, no squandering of
technique for extraneous effects. She had the simplest, most
precise connection with the music.

To say the 27-year-old is in a league of her own here is no
overstatement. In little over two years, she has brought the
substance-starved Jakarta audience three of the classical
repertoire's most formidable piano concertos, Tchaikovsky's
First, Rachmaninoff's Third and Rachmaninoff's Second.

Her resume accounts for much of it: a master's degree from the
San Francisco Conservatory of Music, numerous musical awards, at
least a dozen competition trophies and extensive experience with
various U.S.-based orchestras.

Yet, with Myrna, there is something that goes way beyond
experience and qualifications. It is a kind of maturity that
renders every finely researched, internalized and gradational
nuance sound so effortless, the natural roundness of sound that
even the thinnest configurations of Rachmaninoff judiciously
require.

In her, all the subtleties involved in making a compelling
performer are not only captured, but transcended. We're not just
talking about technical finesse, agility of the fingers, clarity
of tone, depth of feeling, perfect control, understanding of the
composer, a superior sense of proportion, a sixth sense for
harmony or even stage presence. She distills all that into such
a poignant, pure form, and still adds to it a certain serenity,
which, when combined with her extraordinary raw power, almost
sounds wonderfully paradoxical.

The paradox doesn't stop there. There is a cool
inscrutability about Myrna's overall composure that may seem
poles apart from the emotional giant that is Rachmaninoff. And
yet there is something so "right" about her interpretation of the
great Russian Romantic -- call it a kindred spirit.

Considering the acoustic adversaries, hers was no mean feat.
Granted, Jakarta Hilton's Golden Ballroom has acquired itself a
new, super plush look, its floors decked out in opulent Escada
patterns, ditto its sumptuously upholstered walls. But the
basics remain unchanged: the thick carpet and wall coverings
still absorb the sound, the one-level seating still blocks the
audience's view, the ballroom's huge columns even more so.

Last but not least, there were those "mortal" moments. Myrna
pushed the orchestra forward (she has the reputation for it), but
there was no denying those specific hiccups. The failure of the
viola and the clarinet to prepare for the soloist's second
lyrical subject in the first movement (preceding the cadenza
which marked the end of the exposition). The practically
dismembered solo horn when it reintroduced the second subject.
The shaky solo flute and solo clarinet in the second movement's
introduction.

And still Myrna held the upper hand. As she brought the
concerto to its majestic ending, you knew she was home free, with
flying honors, and fully deserving of the rapturous standing
ovation which ensued.

Yet if there was any real beneficiary of the venue's cosmetic
accomplishment, it must be the NCO itself, sans Myrna. With
conductor Yazeed Djamin once again navigating its terrain, it
responded to the highbrowism of the event -- its 9th anniversary,
no less -- with extra aplomb.

Right from the git-go, Djamin was doing something right with
Alexander Borodin's balletic Polovtsian Dances, ambitious though
the idea might seem initially. The tempo was well sustained
throughout and while clarity might not be the noun that came to
mind, the spirit never faltered.

And it wasn't as if this spirit was easily translatable.
Written originally as the finale of Borodin's most monumental
work, the Prince Igor opera, this dance suite is multifaceted:
once sassy, then majestic, and dangerously rhythmical to say the
least. But Djamin was sure-handed all the way.

The Introduzione-Andantino and the very famous Allegro, both
decorous subjects of further immortalization by Hollywood,
displayed, for a change, refreshing hints that melody and bass
could indeed achieve some semblance of harmony. Practically
prominent were the woodwind instruments, the trumpet and the
cello.

At the very least, it swept away the pungent aftertaste of
NCO's more characteristic rendition of the program's opening
piece, Brahms' Tragic Overture, op. 81. Granted, Brahms is not
the easiest composer to interpret. Deemed the symphonist of the
absolute, he renders the emotional content of his music not only
expressively tragical, but dimensionally epic. His music is not
just an expression of a particular feeling, it is more a view of
life.

However, Djamin's inability to steer the orchestra towards
that direction may stem more than the unfortunate paradox that is
the music itself. Tragic maybe, but "dark" (as implied by the
evening's program notes) must be a figment of Brahms' own
intellectual imagination. Yet even "tragic" proved one tall
order for NCO, whose performance can be best described as shallow
and tentative. Though the solo parts and the trumpet often held
up pretty well, the bass was severely drowned out as it shuddered
and slumbered toward any semblance of conclusion.

To some, the middle piece, Djamin's Broadway spin on Maladi's
elegant Nyiur Melambai, might be a buoyant respite from all that
(literal) tragedy. It's vintage Djamin of course, his trademark
"Rodgers and Hammerstein-meets-folk songs-and-local-oldies"
cross-cultural vision whose variations are painfully predictable
and whose MO stays the same: what it lacks in depth it makes up
for in illusions of grandeur.

Annie at the Beach? Yup, been there, heard that, and so has
NCO with its amazing knack for seizing such superficial moments
to showcase its ultimate confidence.