Beethoven 4 by Eric Lu, Marin Alsop and the LSO

The Barbican Concert Hall saw a reunion well-beloved by British classical music audiences–twice!–on Wednesday and Thursday night: Eric Lu joined by Marin Alsop and the London Symphony Orchestra performing Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto.

I attended the Thursday one, which was a full evening concert, the second half of which was dominated by Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances.

It was the much-coveted First Prize of the Leeds International Piano Competition that launched Eric onto the international stage in 2018; it was at the finals that 20-year-old Eric played Beethoven’s Fourth with Marin Alsop and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Since then, Eric’s name has almost become synonymous with Beethoven’s Fourth, a mark of honour not to be taken lightly for a pianist still in his mid-twenties, especially since many consider this concerto to be Beethoven’s “most lyrical and personal one”.

But perhaps by slapping this label that screams “SACRED AND UNTOUCHABLE” on the concerto, we have unknowingly obscured the contents of the jar, because Eric’s performance has shown me something I did not expect to hear from the almighty Beethoven’s Fourth.

The concert opened with Kurt Weill’s Symphonic Nocturne from the musical Lady in the Dark, which was lovely and all, but given that this is a concert showcasing crowd-pleasing masterpieces, let us acknowledge the fact that we were all here to witness the chemistry between Eric Lu and Marin Alsop and cut to the chase.

Since his rise to fame, Eric Lu has always given the public the impression of being a gentle and heartfelt poet at the piano, able to evince sounds which showed the profound depths of his musical imagination. He was hailed by The Guardian as “having the magic touch of Radu Lupu and Murray Perahia”; he recently released an album of all-Schubert music; he is known for interpreting the most canonical works in piano repertoire, a feat not many young pianists dare to perform. This image of a zen, introverted young pianist with the soul of a seventy-year-old man is confirmed by his slightly awkward stride as he enters the packed Barbican Hall, his boyish face wearing a small, timid smile. On paper it seems as if this boy and Beethoven’s Fourth were a match made in heaven. As he settled into the chair he had chosen–one with a back on which he could comfortably lean, not your regular piano stool, a decision which carried faint echoes of Glenn Gould–arms loose and swaying by his side, it almost seemed as if he were at home rather than in the great Barbican Hall.

Although the unconventional quiet opening of the concerto no longer delivers such a shock as it did to its contemporary audience, the softness of Eric Lu’s touch still gripped the Hall at once, holding our breaths as the space around us suddenly transformed into a personal, domestic hearth. Right from the very beginning of the concerto, Eric had firmly placed his signature mark on it with the unique, exquisite sound only he could evince from this grand ivory instrument.

Despite its calm and quiet opening, Beethoven’s Fourth Concerto is poised to keep the audience on the edge of their seats, and Eric, contrary to all expectations, proceeded to blaze through the first movement with a ferocious, almost reckless brilliance. The dazzling virtuosity which Beethoven demands from the player was always executed by Eric with the most elegant and relaxed gestures; his was an example of how physical gesture is perfectly integrated with musical expression. Nor was this a type of virtuosity that aims to show off; this was natural and humble virtuosity, demonstrating no sign of pretence, its only aim being to make the music come alive.

There was a rawness in Eric’s sound which gave the music an exciting edge. He did not attempt to saturate the rolling arpeggios with pedals, instead punctuating them with crystal clear articulation, which allowed the shape of the music to rise to the surface, showing the concerto to be an active and engaging conversation between soloist and orchestra.

The collaboration between Marin Alsop and Eric Lu in the second movement, a movement in which the opposing dialogue between piano and orchestra has caused critics to liken it to Orpheus taming the Furies, created some magical moments which made listening such a pleasure, and Eric concluded the concerto with a flourish and a bit of cheek, leaving the audience roaring and demanding for me from this young soloist on his debut appearance with the London Symphony Orchestra.

And more Eric provided. He played an encore of the last two movements from Schumann’s Kinderszenen, and shook the hall with his ravishingly quiet tones. For him it seems as if the palette of colours offered by the piano was endless; even the quieter bits had an infinite amount of subtle gradation which he alone could access.

Eric Lu’s debut with the LSO was a great success. Here was someone in his mid-twenties, confident in his playing and already producing a unique signature sound. I don’t think I will get tired of hearing Eric play this concerto.

Still buzzing with excitement after a twenty-minute interval, the audience at the Barbican settled down for Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances, the composer’s last work, a well-known concert piece yet no less fascinating because of its popularity. Under Marin Alsop’s baton the music was infused with great energy and rhythmic drive, and it was wonderful to experience the big sound the LSO was able to create in the Barbican Hall, but I thought the performance somehow fell short of evoking the long, luscious melodies which make Rachmaninov’s music so attractive. Nevertheless, there was a great sense of structure in the last movement, building up to a climactic finale in a frenzied, rhythmic dance which was to be dispersed by the shattering sound of a gong. If only the audience would wait for the gong sound to die away in order to achieve its full effect…alas, it was a fantastic performance by the LSO and I cannot blame them for being enthusiastic.