Reviewer Can't Write Critique Without Heart
November 15, 1990
Observer & Eccentric

Dear Editor ,
I know that my assignment was to review Eugene Istomin's all-Beethoven piano recital for Cranbrook Music Guild on Nov. 8. I really did my homework on the program -the Fantasy (G minor, Opus 77), the lyrical "Moonlight," the problematical Opus 110 and the epic "Waldenstein" sonatas.

I arrived a half hour early properly prepared, pen in hand. Honestly, I did. In the opening Beethoven Fantasy, I was all set to listen for the proper improvisational style (in this most improvisational work) and for smooth transitions; to note, for instance, the execution of the rapid arpeggios, and of the multiple prestos; to mark the balances between the recitative and melodic passages. In short, I was ready to be a critic.

What I wasn't prepared for, however, was the pure musical power of Istomin's performance. There were a few flubs, occasional over-pedaling, some sloughed runs. It wasn't a note-perfect performance. But, half-way through the first number (and without warning), Istomin, the piano, the music and the audience became one . The performance was transformed into a living river of sound, sometimes swift and gaily rippling, often deep and quiet-flowing, more than occasionally turbulent - but increasingly moving, surging, living - a veritable Beethoven resurrection.

Not a soul coughed. No programs rattled. Everyone was caught in the magical spell of this performance as re-creation.

Chopin once wrote of the necessity to "re-create the music" each time it is performed, but that is truly a daring and nearly forgotten philosophy in this age of cold, technical perfection. We too often hear all of the notes, but none of the music, so you can imagine the shock - to be present at the creation!

Istomin literally played the heart out of Cranbrook House's dry, weary, old Steinway (which had been somewhat rejuvenated during the day by his technician's tender ministrations). In doing so, he captured my heart, too.

Thus, I am unable to write the review assigned to me because I know that The Eccentric doesn't welcome heartless reviews and I am still waiting for mine to be returned.

My only hope is that our gallant artist will be back to the metropolitan Detroit area soon to return my heart to me - perhaps to mix his magic with that of our current resident Detroit Symphony Orchestra wizard, Neeme Jarvi. Of course, if Istomin continues to play as he did at Cranbrook House, I am forever lost.

If you need to reach me. I can be found somewhere amid the epic splendor of that wondrous contrapuntal finale of the "Waldstein" sonata.

Sorry about the review.

Sincerely,
Isabelle