Though Minoru Nojima is well-known amongst pianophiles, the small number of works he's laid down to disc as well as the relative difficulty in getting his label, Reference Recordings, has meant that few have heard of him and even fewer have heard his playing.

I corrected this gap in my listening only recently, with a recording of his Liszt works which he recorded in 1988, including the B-minor sonata. Though it ultimately didn't eclipse my favourite Richter recordings, his account was notable for its scrupulous attention to the score as well as its effortless virtuosity, and his Feux follet even more so. Of all the four nights, he was the pianist whom I had most anticipated hearing, and he did not disappoint.

And so it was on to the real thing. Nojima strode slowly and solemnly onto stage, sat without aplomb at the piano and started the evening with Beethoven's Sonata No.28. This was a gently ruminative account, leaning toward slower tempi in the first movement, marked Etwas lebhaft und mit der innigsten Empfindung (Somewhat lively, and with inner feeling). His tone was glowing, his phrases deliberate and calculated, through a somewhat narrow range of dynamics.

Throughout the sonata there was a feeling of intelligent, confident calculation. The dotted-rhythm Scherzo, opening with ringing chords, showed none of the tentativeness in the music as it wavers between major and minor. In the short third movement he managed to convey longingness and regret without an excess of sentimentality. The fourth movement stayed mainly in the same vein as the first - a well-behaved account where Nojima's ability to bring out different voicings worked well in especially in the fugato, without however being as wild as some. In the end, I felt the performance a little too genteel, not straining the boundaries of expression as I perceive Beethoven to have done, and perhaps not doing justice to the revolutionary character of
his last works."

Nojima's considerable gifts in Ravel are documented in a single disc comprising the Miroirs and Gaspard de la Nuit. It was the latter work that was presented tonight. In a Liszt-centric festival, tonight's was the only one without the Hungarian composer, yet here was a rare treat which more than compensated. If Nojima's Ondine wasn't the most seductive, she was certainly a magical being brought to life by his supreme technical facility, evenness of touch at the keyboard, through the endless arpeggios and arabesques. Aided by his subtle pedalling, he brought out the endless array of colours and layers of the piece in a manner that was nothing short of masterful.

In Le Gibet, which was on the languid side, his repeated bell-notes were nothing short of miraculous in their evenness - exposing a musical landscape that unfolded gradually like a Pointilist painting.

All of this culminated in a Scarbo that showed a breathtaking ear for colour, tempered by structure. Certainly Nojima's technical mastery was not in question, but his pacing of this last piece was what proved the most impressive. His Scarbo was perhaps not the most menacing, but it showed Nojima's considerable gifts at telling a story amidst the myriad difficulties of the score - the mark of a true artist.

Ending the program after the interval was Prokofiev's Piano Sonata No.8. Nojima made an impression here through a scrupulously thought-out account of this sonata that lent a devastating Zen-like clarity and lucidity to this nebulous work without resorting to overt rhetoric. Although the first movement still remained frustratingly elusive, Nojima proved fluent in the language of Prokofiev as he was in Ravel, with technical brilliance in a superbly paced last movement. Though critics might have complained about his limited dynamic range - in the loudest passages I had the irresistible urge to reach out somewhere and crank up the volume, it was in many ways like a miniature bonsai - every detail perfect and in its own place, but smaller.

Though the cheers from the audience would have elicted encores from another pianist, when Nojima walked off the stage, the house lights immediately came on. It was the fitting finish to a recital, which like its performer, was by turns brilliant, nebulous and disciplined.

Derek Lim

 

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