<Editorial: This review is not entirely complimentary, and its credibility is brought to question by some factual errors. The writer apparently thought that Nobu learns music by listening to others' playing, without looking into the laborious process that Nobu goes through: the notes of each hand is recorded separately, with oral notations, and Nobu assembles the whole piece in his mind, not by regurgitating another pianist's playing of the completed piece. Also, I have personally observed Nobu perform enough number of times that I can say without reservation that Nobu does not hesitate when he makes large leaps; the question was raised in a Q&A session held in Boston in 2011 of how he does make the leaps so accurately, and Nobu replied that he grew up thinking the piano as part of his body, and he simply senses where the keys are.>
Blind Cliburn winner makes notable, much-hyped DC debut
At the 2009 Van Cliburn competition (one of the world's most prestigious piano showcases), Haochen Zhang, then 19 and the youngest entrant, walked off with the Gold Medal -- the first Chinese artist to do so. But Zhang is likely to have the most difficult time of any Cliburn winner in establishing a solid career: He shared the prize with Nobuyuki Tsujii, a Japanese artist blind from birth.
Explosive publicity has surrounded the phenomenon of Tsujii, whose concert requests worldwide are piling up faster than he can honor them. Japan's NHK network has been following Tsujii's tour, and was at the Kennedy Center's Terrace Theater on Saturday afternoon for his WPAS-presented Washington debut, interviewing patrons as they left.
In a challenging but narrow program of Chopin, Schumann, Liszt and
Mussorgsky, Tsujii displayed a control of the keyboard that would be
impressive from any pianist; that he did so entirely by muscle memory
boggles the mind. Tsujii was virtually note-perfect all afternoon; his
finger independence in Mussorgsky's "Ballet of Chicks in Their Shells"
and "Limoges" was extraordinary, and his firm control of great washes of
keyboard sound in Liszt's "Un Sospiro" was impressive.
All that said, this remarkable artist is 21, and has much studying to do before his interpretations probe more than the obvious musical layers of his repertoire. Of still greater concern is the shakiness of his musical pulse, the absence of natural phrasing (even a simple metrical feel) and the tendency to rush. Even in a piece he otherwise handled poetically, the Chopin Nocturne in D-flat, the music was like a river -- in a bad way. Inflections were like afterthoughts, if they were even perceptible.
Sadly, most of this is probably tied to his disability. Tsujii learns music not through Braille (which is available), but by listening to custom-made recordings of the notes for each hand, played slowly, by his teacher. This means he does not absorb bar lines, time signatures, note values, complex phrasing indications and the variety of accents carefully set out by the composer. In order to judge distances around the keyboard, he has to keep his torso absolutely still, which prevents him from moving in any natural way, feeling the underlying pulse. Lastly, the most amazing feature of his technique is how he handles large leaps. When there's time, he takes an instant to check his position, which adds an extra maneuver to what should be a free, organic ballet of the hands. All of these issues add up to music-making that never sounds completely comfortable or sure of what it's about. Still, he is a remarkable, inspiring person.
-- Robert Battey
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