In an era of instant celebrity, greatness could be an overused term. When applied to violinist Itzhak Perlman, “greatness” is apt, but the word still seems inadequate. The Hedgehog had the privilege of attending Mr.Perlman’s recital in San Francisco, at Davies Symphony Hall, Sunday, Jan. 23. It was a performance we hope to be able to remember, to revisit in our mind’s eyes and ears, for a long time. He performed solo with pianist Rohan De Silva accompanying him brilliantly.

   The program opened with Sonata in D major for Violin and Piano, Op. 9, no.3, by Jean-Marie Leclair. A bright, spirited piece, published in 1743, it was created during the time that court dances became ballet, splendid visual geometry added to the French king’s pride in his own prancing legs. Leclair, in fact, was once a ballet master in Italy. The music was an invitation to the audience to notice something that might be outside their expectations, technically amazing, and eye opening. If someone had arrived at Davies Hall from Mars, for example, not having heard of Itzhak Perlman, the Martian would be dazzled and moved to imagine that earthlings were not so bad as he had heard.

   Beethoven’s Sonata No. 7 in C minor for violin and piano, op. 30, no. 2, grabbed the listeners by their hearts to draw them into depths of feeling. The music seems to enlarge the possibilities of expression in rhythms, themes, and the truly touching melody of the Adagio cantabile, the second movement. Mr. Perlman’s mastery of the violin was revealed here to be the profound interchange between him and the violin. Perhaps it is the violin playing him, employing his human soul to express what it, as an instrument cannot. This is something beyond great musicianship.

   The last piece on the program, though not the last piece, was Saint-Saens: Sonata No. 1 in D minor for Violin and Piano, Op. 75. Mr. Perlman surely did not allow himself any let up in the demands of his program. While the entire sonata is astonishing, the final movement takes one’s breath away. The sonata is structured in four movements but played with a pause only between the second and third movements. It builds from Allegretto moderato into the Allegro molto, quick, fast, relentless and breathtaking. A sort of perpetual motion style sets in bringing the listeners to the edges of their seats both through the music’s momentum and amazement at the musician’s prowess. When the music stopped, this Hedgehog could scarcely believe that it had ended.

   Mr. Perlman’s introduction to the Goblins typified his presentation. He was funny about it, acknowledging that probably no one in the audience was a Bazzini fan, claiming that he also was not one. The mildly self-deprecating humor led to a performance of mind-blowing technique and delightful music. The audience would have stayed there whether the management had sent out for pizza at 1 a.m. or not. Wisely, Mr. Perlman made his exit with his audience about to rush the stage.

   Itzhak Perlman’s greatness surpasses technique and musicality, though he is the master of both. He radiates love. To watch him, one feels in the presence of music as a peak of human creativity, intelligence, and experience.

 

photo credit: Itzhak Perlman by Akira Kinoshita