Leif Ove Andsnes and Bertrand Chamayou review – rewarding pairing brings intimacy and colour

The Guardian

22-05-2025

Until Márta Kurtág's death in 2019, one of the most delightful musical experiences was to watch and listen to her and her composer husband György playing his piano duets – the playfulness, the quiet intimacy, the way in which the writing meant they crossed arms as if in a gentle game of Twister. But you don't have to be married to play Kurtág's duets – just generous with your personal space. Leif Ove Andsnes and Bertrand Chamayou chose eight of them for this recital, performing them alongside Kurtág's similarly miniature solos and framing them with four works by Schubert, the master piano duet writer of the 19th century.
The Kurtág pieces on the main programme were all from Játékok: translating as Games, this is a collection of mostly tiny piano solos and duets united by their concision and sense of mischief which Kurtág, now 99, has been adding to for half a century. Andsnes's solo set began with an Evocation of Petrushka that indeed sounded like a sped-up tape of Stravinsky; immediately afterwards there was the contrast of Les Adieux, quietly throbbing into silence, then an about-turn into the frenzied klaxon of Sirens of the Deluge. Chamayou sent his hands cartwheeling repeatedly down the keyboard in The Little Squall, and painted spots of changing colour in Hommage Tardif à Karskaya. Their duets were even more vivid, with Harangok and Kyrie showcasing differing and equally convincing ways of making the piano sound like bells.
Close and complementary in style – Chamayou slightly more animated, Andsnes perhaps cooler and more analytical – the two made a rewarding team in Schubert, whether in the richly woven, melodious Rondo in A, the occasionally spiky Allegro in A minor or the constantly shifting harmonies of the E minor Fugue, written for organ. The highlight was the Fantasie in F minor, which with Andsnes on the top line was shaped into long paragraphs in a way that maintained momentum, before broadening out into an impassioned conclusion.
It was back to Kurtág for the encores: two of his many Bach transcriptions, ending with the Sonatina from Actus Tragicus – two minutes of quiet, unassuming beauty.