2025 marks the 150th anniversary of Ravel’s birth (also the 100th anniversary of Satie’s death but that’s just an excuse for a handful of pianists to break World Records by performing his “Vexations”) and somehow his complete oeuvre for solo piano manage to fit into an extended solo recital, so a select few pianists have been gearing up to present Ravel-athons this year.
I unfortunately couldn’t make Seong-Jin Cho’s Barbican recital, so I simply couldn’t miss Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s Ravel-athon last night at Wigmore Hall, even if it meant paying top dollar.
I strongly suspect that Ravel had this “Ravel-athon” recital programme in mind when he started composing (being such a perfectionist, I wouldn’t put it past him); there is a perfect proportion of large-scale works alongside sprinkles of small preludes and minuets, all beautifully crafted works suitable for a diverse audience. The recital was separated into three sections that presented Ravel’s piano works more or less chronologically, with two intervals in between, each concluding in a major concert work; the first section concluded with the Miroirs (1904-5); Gaspard de la Nuit (1908) concluded the second half; the recital proper closed with Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-7). Even his last work for solo piano was written 20 years before his death!
Ravel’s works have always been loved by concert audience. Charming, colourful, beautiful, it is no wonder so many of the pieces heard tonight have become staple concert repertoire. Thus, the idea that Ravel’s works are pristine and perfect have stuck. Yet Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s performance tonight cast a totally different light on the composer, leaving the audience awestruck with his thunderous power, nonchalant freedom and unwavering sense of humour.
Choosing a Yamaha Grand as his trusty steed for the evening, Bavouzet’s approach to sound was a direct one without any frills. I would argue that the Yamaha provides less of a range of colours and depth of sound than a Steinway, but it certainly projects a sonorous resonance across the keyboard with a powerful and thunderous bass that actually elicits pleasure in the listener. Throughout the concert I was struck by Bavouzet’s rich tone, one that was vigorous and virile.
Oftentimes Ravel’s music are connected to the images they represent, especially with titles like “Une barque sur l’ocean” and “Gaspard de la nuit”. However, Bavouzet seemed less interested in such “images” than the sound effects that can be created on the keyboard through Ravel’s innovative piano writing, as well as the musical ideas so seamlessly integrated with structure under the pen of the master composer. Indeed, under Bavouzet’s fingers I found new reasons to admire Ravel’s compositional genius. The antique dance forms such as pavane, minuet and alborada showed forth, previously hidden from my ears by performers keen on either demonstrating virtuosity or languishing in colourful harmonies.
Much the showman, Bavouzet had a keen eye for drama and knew exactly where to heighten the excitement. There were even jump-scares in “Une barque sur l’ocean”! These moments were accompanied by deep knowledge of the structure of the pieces that the drama felt perfectly integral to the performance.
Bavouzet infused his own sense of humour into Ravel’s music. This was especially effective in the Valses nobles et sentimentales, a pastiche of as well as homage to the Viennese waltzes of Schubert’s era. Many are the times I’ve heard pianists being too careful with the sound and colours that the waltzes simply become too similar to each other instead of possessing distinctive humourous qualities of their own, as Bavouzet’s performance truly showed.
It’s no secret that Ravel’s works not only require great pianistic control, they also demand great virtuosity; he notably wrote “Scarbo” to challenge the difficulty of Balakirev’s notorious “Islamey”. Bavouzet had all the technique needed at his disposal and more: indeed, he did more than that. The technique became such a part of the music that one marvelled not so much at the technique itself but at the sound engendered out of such tremendous technique. The tremolo in the opening of “Scarbo” was done so marvelously that I began to hear a sound emanating from the piano I’d never heard before. The famous repeated notes in “Alborada del gracioso” were executed so spectacularly with such ease they brought forth the Spanish flavour of the piece, which is the whole purpose. For Bavouzet, technique served the purpose of heightening the emotional climaxes, in pieces like “Une barque sur l’ocean”, “Ondine” and “Toccata”, taking his audience’s breath away as he recklessly threw caution to the wind and created sounds of colossal proportion.
How great it is to witness a master so well-versed in Ravel’s musical language performing an all-Ravel recital! To fully immerse in one composer’s music, revel in his genius and creativity, for one evening. So natural did it feel for Jean-Efflam Bavouzet to play Ravel, so ingrained was the music in his muscles that it was as if Bavouzet was speaking to us himself. This was a perfect combination of intimate knowledge and generous showmanship. It was an experience in which both artist and audience shared in the joy of rediscovering Ravel’s music, and a reminder why a live concert can be so much more fun than listening to recordings.
Bavouzet’s humility as a performer, his genuine joy of sharing music with others could be seen as he waved to a filled Wigmore Hall all up on their feet after the final notes of Le Tombeau de Couperin. He even fist-pumped the air in celebration after his encore!
And how do you top an evening of Ravel’s complete solo piano works? You perform the mighty La Valse as an encore, of course! I have no idea where Bavouzet draws his energy from, but take me there, for how he manages to perform such a gargantuan programme at his age with such energy and vigour is absolutely mind-boggling.
Article featured photo credits to Wigmore Hall.
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