George Hall 

Imogen Cooper

Wigmore Hall, London
  
  


Even for a performer steeped in the Viennese classics, Imogen Cooper's account of Beethoven's A major Sonata Op. 101, which opened her Wigmore programme, was something special. It is one of the composer's subtlest and most elusive works, but Cooper brought to it a sureness of structural overview combined with a superbly judged palette of tonal colours that gave it unusual immediacy without underplaying its ambiguities.

She followed it with Mozart's Sonata in A minor, K310, in which many pianists emphasise an inherent vulnerability and even angst. Cooper's approach was more forthright, though the agitation and instability of the finale were delicately sketched. An occasional misjudgment when her pedalling allowed overtones to flood the texture, or when she released a chord less than cleanly, were minor blemishes.

After the interval, her interpretation of Tippett's Second Piano Sonata, which dates from the same period as his opera King Priam, and indeed shares some of its thematic material, had the feeling of a work-in-progress. In this piece Tippett dropped the luxuriant lyricism of his earlier manner in favour of a much tougher and more astringent sound-world. Throughout, there was a sense that the specific sonorities Cooper selected for each brief section, always designed to contrast jarringly with those on either side, needed clearer demarcation.

But the opposite extreme of piano writing, Ravel's Miroirs, which requires not just a prodigious technique but the ability to conjure up the most refined textures and nuanced atmospheres, found Cooper back on her Beethoven form. With every piece, and indeed each bar, immaculately voiced and finessed to the smallest rhythmic nicety, this was proof not just of her outstanding musical understanding, but also of her discriminating taste.

 

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