The formalities of the Society’s Annual General Meeting having been discharged with

unwonted (though not irreverent) despatch, more than thirty members and guests, including

members of the Liszt Society, settled down for a substantial recital by our good friend

Thomas Wakefield.

The entire programme comprised originals or transcriptions by Alkan and Liszt, starting with

Liszt’s transcription of Bach’s Fantasia and Fugue in G minor for organ. The Fantasia is

inevitably (perhaps necessarily) presented with unvarying grandeur and rhetoric by organists,

so it was particularly instructive to hear a version which exposed unusual levels of mystery

and tragedy as the complex chromaticisms unfolded. Total conviction on the part of the

listener who is used to the organ score may have to wait for another day, and there will always

be fierce academic discussion about some of the notational and harmonic ambiguities of

Bach’s manuscript, but it was certainly salutary to encounter the substantially-different

conception as devised by Liszt and executed by Wakefield. The fugue weaved its merry way

with dexterity; here it was much easier to recognise and accept the greater level of

contrapuntal highlighting which is possible on the piano, despite occasional smudges of

fingerwork here and there.

Alkan’s arrangement of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in C minor is one of those

curiosities of which most members are aware, but few have heard. It was with a keen sense of

anticipation that we prepared ourselves for this performance of the first movement,

particularly its renowned cadenza, with which Busoni is said to have appalled his audience

when he performed it for the first time. Wakefield gave us a deft performance, in which

orchestral colourings (especially of woodwind) were conveyed with considerable success.

The cadenza itself, with its teasing thematic cross-references to another well-known work of

the composer (was Beethoven consciously aware of creating these, or was it simply sub-

conscious on his part?) and extraordinary harmonic shifts, was of especial interest to the

academics and performers in the audience.

Wakefield continued with two transcriptions by Liszt. The first, of Schubert’s

Liebesbotschaft, is in total stylistic contrast to the Beethoven, and presents its own challenges

of technique, which were handled with secure under-statement. The first half concluded with

Midsummer Night’s Dream; an extraordinary meshing of the two movements, with the main

theme of the second episode wrenched up a semi-tone from its original G major; not so much

a transcription as an arrangement bordering on the fantastic. Surely no organist, hearing this

version, can ever again submit to playing the original in its pure version for all those brides

who know of no other choice for their big day?

After a pleasant interval with refreshments, during which we were able to view the Steinway

showroom (but sadly not the Hall of Fame, though a picture of a youthful Yonty Solomon was

identified through the glass windows), and during which several members played tentative

notes on a considerable collection of stock which few will ever be able to afford, we re-

grouped. The first half having consisted of re-workings, the second was of virgin material,

commencing with three highly-contrasted pieces of Alkan from his earlier years. Not many

members may have heard the Bourrée d’Auvergne before, with its Bartókian foretastes; this

was handled with suitable panache and whimsy in turn. Relaxation was afforded by a

carefully-controlled performance of the Andante Romantique before a pulsating reading of Le

Chemin de fer, in which redolences of the pre-Beeching days of mighty steam locomotives

were tempered by the realisation that those of Alkan’s era would have been much more

primitive. But then Alkan always was ahead of his time.

The man in the street, when (or if) he thinks of Liszt, will generally cite the extrovert and

virtuoso qualities of much of the œuvre, so it was good to be reminded of the greater austerity,

even bleakness, of some of the later compositions. Nuages gris is a remarkably introspective

sketch in which the developing sonorities of the seven-octave piano are exploited, whilst

Csárdás macabre combines lively Hungarian energy with grotesque harmonic twists and

pungent colouring. Both works were delivered with convincing command.

The concert proper ended with two of Alkan’s earlier pieces. Palpitamento is, regrettably, one

of those items never yet in print (the Society ought to take on board an edition of some of

these pieces for the bi-centenary, if a willing publisher can be found in these contra-

speculative times); a piece of deep sentiment with tenor thumbing of the type which was to be

developed by Brahms a couple of decades later as one of his trademark “inventions”. Marche

Triomphale formed a fitting and rousing conclusion to the advertised programme, in which

Wakefield seemed to find fresh reserves of pianistic energy and facility when most performers

would have been flagging. Generous and well-deserved applause was rewarded with two

further miniatures of Alkan, both executed in masterful fashion, in which your reviewer was

left with the uncanny impression that the best wine of Cana had been left until the end, so far

as intrinsic pianistic challenge was concerned.

We must thank Thomas Wakefield not only for his playing, but also for the careful crafting of

the programme and for the splendidly-informative programme notes provided for his

audience. Here was an occasion worthy to follow in the footsteps of our late and revered first

President; we all look forward to the next such occasion.