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A Dazzling Debut New York
Weill Concert Hall, Carnegie Hall
10/29/2024 -
Robert Schumann: Myrthen, Opus 25: 1.“Widmung” (Arr. Franz Liszt, S.566)
Camille Saint-Saëns: Danse macabre, Opus 40 (Arr. Liszt, S.555)
Claude Debussy: L’Isle joyeuse
Igor Stravinsky: Three movements from The Firebird (Arr. Guido Agosti)
Minako Tokuyama: Musica Nara
Sergei Rachmaninoff: 12 Romances, Opus 21: 5.“Lilacs – Piano Sonata No. 2, Opus 36
Nikolai Kapustin: Variations, Opus 41
Yukine Kuroki (Pianist) 
Y. Kuroki (© Courtesy of the Artist)
“I was never a jazz musician. I never tried to be a real jazz pianist, but I had to do it because of the composing. I’m not interested in improvisation – and what is a jazz musician without improvisation? All my improvisations are written, of course, and they became much better; it improved them.”
Nikolai Kapustin
“Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
She would be as swift in motion as a ball.”
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
A strong suggestion: Don’t ever ever be deceived by that sweet cherubic face of Yukine Kuroki, put on posters by the Dublin Piano Competition. Whatever the syrupy saccharine smile, Ms Kuroki in her New York debut tonight was monster on the keyboard.
No, monster is misleading. In an unusual recital of arrangements including an obscure Russian jazz composer, and two works which offered the scariest Halloween terrors, Ms Kuroki–first in a shimmering turquoise gown, then a shocking scarlet gown–was both shimmering and shocking.
I hesitate to use the word spectacular. Yes, her fingers were spectacular. She coursed over the Steinway keys with volition, electricity, accuracy. The whizzing arrangement from Firebird she played like a whole orchestra, somehow merging violin glissandi, pizzicati and thumping bass drums at the bottom of the keyboard. In two Liszt arrangements, Ms Kuroki ignored even the semblance of Schumann and Saint‑Saëns. This was the Hungarian at his wildest, using the original music as a mere excuse for his headlong notes.
The Danse Mmcabre and Firebird were of course the Halloween choices. And somehow Ms Kuroki made Death and Ghouls seem actually scary. In a pagan, heathen way.
Was this enough? In the first half, were Ms Kuroki’s young fingers, the dedicatee of several Finalist prizes and the Dublin first prize enough? Almost. In fact the electrifying finger work was ideal for the works she had chosen. Not a single one needed a cerebral exposition. They could have all be spectacular encores, all performed with Horowitzean joy.
One exception was Debussy’s L’Isle joyeuse. Yes, Ms Kuroki played it with the same unremitting drive as her other selections. The power was evident. Missing were the whispers of French Impressionists. She gave us pianistic winds, waves, palm trees. And perhaps only the most mature pianists, like Gieseking can bring those auras from the keys to the poetic/painting spirit of a Verlaine or Monet, ignoring the pedal as much as possible. Yet one had to admire her faultless efforts and the brilliant power which concluded the work.
The second half showed another facet of Ms Kuroki. Yes, she was equally exciting. But the sheer power of Liszt and Stravinsky were subdued for awhile. Though hardly gone. In fact, she had a few surprises for us. Likely the dreary start of Minako Tokuyama’s The Music of Nara. Uh‑oh, thought I, another Japanese folk‑song with filigrees of rushing notes in between. That, though was a deception.
It’s best to quote her: “Within the notes are the Guardian Deities of Children, the Running Priest, the Laughing Buddha...” And all of this, ending with a single tone, based on a very jazzy rhythm. (I should have read the program notes before listening.)
The two Rachmaninoff pieces were played with dedication and affection. Yet their unalloyed romanticism in the midst of such colorful fireworks offered a pallid shade to Ms Kuroki’s playing. This, the composer’s second (and shorter) version of the Second Sonata, was played with all the brilliance and virtuosity necessary. The pianist was articulate (as always), brilliant and sonorous. Yet her expressiveness was, as in the Debussy, finely crafted. The slow movement was languorous, the two outer movement risky, sometimes imperious. Yet this is nit‑picking. One could not help but be impressed, if not totally moved.
The final work was composed–and played–with the most unexpected striking success. Nikolai Kapustin was a Jewish-Ukrainian classically-trained pianist, who–having listened to Oscar Peterson–became famed, even during the Stalin era, as one of the greatest jazz composers in East Europe. Though he always insisted he was “not” a jazz composer, since he couldn’t really improvise.
But who needed improvisation when Ms Kuroki played his Variations not only with the speed of Art Tatum but the feeling, the fun, the faux‑improvisational pleasure? As well as a few quotes from Stravinsky.
This, as I said, was a New York debut, and one wonders what her future holds here. Yes, Liszt and probably Szymanowski and perhaps Scriabin and Gershwin (her own arrangements, one might think). And lots and lots more. In the meantime, the full house at Weill Recital Hall must have been as astonished as I was. For Yukine Kuroki is a special young pianist, with even more mountains and worlds to climb and conquer.
Harry Rolnick
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