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.