Pascal Roge, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London <!-- none onestar twostar threestar fourstar fivestar -->

Bayan Northcott
Sunday 29 January 2006 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Now in his early fifties, Pascal Rogé has long since established himself among the most consistently satisfying interpreters of French solo-piano repertoire. Indeed, his recent disc of the complete Debussy Préludes has been hailed as near-definitive, and here he was, in the South Bank's International Piano Series, to deliver Books I and II entire - all 24 pieces - to a full Queen Elizabeth Hall.

Yet, if expectations were high, the results proved distinctly mixed, and, at times, puzzling. Rogé's command of a full, weighty tone, even in quieter textures, and the beautiful balance of his chording, were immediately evident in the hieratic opening prelude, "Danseuses de Delphes". And, if the dynamics seemed generally louder than Debussy asked for - mezzo-forte instead of mezzo-piano - one presumed that this reflected Rogé's concern to project to the back of the hall.

Although there were moments later on - the filigree ending of "Les fées sont d'exquises danseuses" in Book II, for instance - where Rogé reminded us that he can ripple with a breathtaking hush, the absence of really quiet playing proved pervasive. Moreover, this was compounded by many local contradictions of Debussy's markings: for instance, the guitar-like strumming in the little Spanish study "La sérénade interrompue", marked "distant", was thumped out.

The deliberate rhythmic instability here, insinuating a comic staggering into the underlying dance rhythm, was also a recurrent eccentricity: in particular, a volatile tendency to rush detail in faster, more fantastical pieces such as "Les collines d'Anacapri". One began to wonder whether these represented momentary memory lapses, or spontaneous decisions to do this or that differently for once - an overriding of meticulous detail to recapture an improvisatory immediacy of expression, atmosphere and character.

Where this came off - as in Rogé's marvellously pungent account of the habañera-based "La Puerto del Vino" - the colours and resonances certainly hovered in the mind long afterwards. And, of course, Debussy himself often talked of overthrowing formality and getting back to the "naked flesh of emotion". But he could be merciless over detail when he coached other pianists in his music.

Oddly, Rogé's account of Satie's second Gnossienne as an encore had just the restraint and respect for the dynamics that his Debussy seemed to disregard.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in