San Francisco Performances: Conrad Tao

I was back at Herbst Theater last Friday, as San Francisco Performances was presenting pianist Conrad Tao, & before I fanboy about the concert I'm going to describe what he wore.

Tao came out in a black suit & white shirt. But the trousers were elegantly baggy. And the white shirt was a fitted tanktop. I could tell it was a tanktop because his black jacket had large lozenges cut out beneath the armpits, flashing a bit of flesh. This struck me as ingenious as well as bold: less constriction in the shoulders / upper arms, as well as ventilation (Tao is a very physical player). He wore black shoes & a necklace of relatively large beads, which sometimes looked tan in the light & sometimes olive green.

So why do I mention his outfit? First, because it's rare & refreshing to see a male performer wearing something so unexpected (why should Yuja Wang get all the pianist fashion coverage?). Second, it's because the outfit struck me as an apt metaphor for the concert: outwardly standard, but . . . with a twist.

The "standard" part was Rachmaninoff, & I left the concert feeling that the composer was more interesting than I had given him credit for. The concept, as Tao explained to us – he spoke from the stage frequently, & for once I found it enlightening rather than irritating – was "The Rachmaninoff songbook": an exploration of the connections between the Russian exile & the American pop music of his day (which would be jazz, Broadway, tinpan alley): how they influenced him, & how he influenced them. The rich, melodic, moody music of Rachmaninoff plays well with the elusive moods & bittersweet turns of American pop (back before it turned into the corporate-run sludge machine it is now – only my opinion, of course).

Tao began with three Rachmaninoff preludes (in C major, Opus 32, #1; in A flat Major, Opus 23, #8; in G Major, Opus 32 #5), played with both architectural strength & emotional resilience, followed by Billy Strayhorn's celebrated Take the A Train. As mentioned, Tao is a very physical player; he rises up off the stool, sometimes hums along, taps his feet (even apart from working the pedals or tapping the iPad to change the electronic page). After this first group Tao thanked us for being there & explained the concept of the evening. Then, as he was about to start the second set, he said he had forgotten to tell us that though the pieces were often going to flow into each other, we should feel free to applaud whenever we felt like it. I braced myself, but the audience, as a pleasant surprise, though it did applaud whenever, had the good sense & good taste for once not to trample on the music with intrusive applause.

The second set opened with In Buddy's Eyes from Sondheim's Follies (this was the most recent piece performed, though its setting, a reunion of aging Follies girls, long after both their youth & the Follies have disappeared, fit right into the period, as did its ambivalent emotional message). That was followed by Auf einer Burg (instrumental only) from Schumann's Liederkreis, which I had heard from Mark Padmore & Paul Lewis just a few weeks ago (write-up here).  This is the song about an old knight, a stone knight, silently watching the quiet, rain-washed valley below; a wedding party is sailing by down on the Rhine; the musicians play merrily, but the bride is weeping. A quiet, stately song, with a wistful pang at the end. The set closed with Rachmaninoff's Étude-Tableau in A minor, Opus 39, #2. A twilit set of emotional ambiguity, played with clarity & emotional force by Tao.

Perhaps the talk from the stage worked better (for me) this time because it was clearly built into the program, not some sort of obligatory outreach foisted on someone who'd rather communicate through music. In fact "Artist Discussion" was built into the program as listed in the program book.

The next set opened with Irving Berlin's All by Myself, a surprisingly energetic & jaunty piece for such sad lyrics (denial? delusion? smiling through the tears? a plucky American refusal to give in to life's sorrows?). Tao had clued us into the lyrics, which was useful, as no one hearing the bright, ragtime-ish tune would guess it was a lament. This was followed by Tao's muscular improvisation on Rachmaninoff's famous Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Variation 15. (Tao is a composer as well as pianist.) Tao plays with strength, but also poetry & finesse, as exemplified in the delicate filigree of the next piece, Harold Arlen's Over the Rainbow as transcribed by Tao from a 1953 recording by Art Tatum. The poignancy of the original came through the elegant dissonances of this version. That was followed by Variation 18 of the Paganini Rhapsody, & the set closed with Strayhorn's poignant Lush Life, & here was a surprise: Tao sang it as well as played it. His voice is strong & expressive. I'd call it a cabaret voice, & if Tao decides to add cabaret artist to his achievements as pianist, composer, & fashion plate, I will follow along. Given the number of songs played without their lyrics, from Schumann to Sondheim, it was interesting for the artist to choose this song as the one that needed its lyrics for full effect. Perhaps it's something about the fleetingness of life  the sense of love followed hard on by loss, & still enjoying the beauty of it all that made it resonate in the context of the evening.

The first half closed with Daisies, a song by Rachmaninoff, Strayhorn's Daydream, & Rachmaninoff's Étude-Tableau in C minor, Opus 33, #3. I guess I've been thinking of Rachmaninoff as one of those composers glommed onto by people who resist any whiff of the 20th century (even now, well into the 21st). This concert convinced me I have been foolish in my opinion, & I need to go into the CD collection & start listening again, with cleansed ears.

All of that was the first half! Which ended with many in the audience already standing to applaud. The second half was a single piece, Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances, Opus 45, as arranged for solo piano by Inon Barnatan. It's a compelling piece (if I've heard it, it was too long ago for me to bring any thoughts or let me say preconceptions to this performance), in three movements, originally intended as a ballet score. Though the original section titles (Noon, Twilight, & Midnight) were dropped by the composer, you could, if you were so inclined, & had read the information in the program book, see some reflections of the jettisoned titles in the music.

There was one encore, after Tao gracious thanked us once again for staying & for being there for what he described as a "long evening" (I did not feel it was too long!): we were given the song Full Moon and Empty Arms, which was set to music lifted directly from Rachmaninoff. Once again, Tao sang the piece, which expresses the wistful, wishful mood of much of the evening's music, as well as perfectly showing the connections between the classical composer & his fellow musicians in adjacent fields. It was an excellent choice as closer, & rounded off the concert beautifully.