Alice Sara Ott
Queen Elizabeth Hall, 7th November 2021
Alice Sara Ott
© Pascal Albandopulos
The concept of the “album as playlist” has become increasingly popular with pianists. Víkingur Ólafsson’s DG disc juxtaposing music by Debussy and Rameau, for example, was an inspired way of highlighting how the former drew inspiration from the latter. Once you’ve hit on a winning combination, it’s possible to transfer that playlist to the recital hall – the “concert of the album”, if you will. Yet, as inventive as it is, Alice Sara Ott’s Echoes of Life, launching its international tour at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on Sunday evening, was so much more than the “concert of the album”.
The musical sequence is intriguing in itself, taking Chopin’s 24 Préludes Op.28 but framing and interspersing them with seven contemporary (or nearly contemporary) pieces that, for Ott, embody personal experiences, hence the title Echoes of Life. The music of the present illuminates the past, but it also serves to demonstrate how modern Chopin’s préludes can sound. Some of these are will-o’-the-wisp miniatures, no more than 30 seconds long, dispatched by Ott in the twinkling of an eye or a furious, frantic scamper, often breathlessly exciting. Very few are familiar to the casual listener: the D flat major “Raindrop” prélude with its tolling pedal point; the poised A major prélude, orchestrated by Glazunov for Fokine’s ballet blanc known as Les Sylphides; and for listeners of a certain age, the chord progression of No.20 in C minor will be forever inextricably linked with Barry Manilow’s Could It Be Magic.
The seven extra works provide contrast, occasionally holding up a musical mirror for points of reflection. Chilly Gonzales’ delicate Prelude in C sharp minor hints at Bach (in C major) rather than Chopin, as does Francesco Tristano’s In The Beginning Was, perhaps acknowledging Johann Sebastian’s role in establishing the prelude as a musical form. Ligeti provides percussive grit, Nino Rota an elegiac waltz, Toru Takemitsu and Arvo Pärt moments of loneliness, music stripped back to the merest of threads. Ott herself contributes a Lullaby to Eternity, a fragile, almost improvisatory meander, based on fragments from Mozart’s Lacrimosa.
A Path To Where
Video still © Hakan Demirel
But as vividly characterised as the playing was – and Ott’s Chopin is extremely accomplished, never hackneyed – the aim of her Echoes of Life project in performance is to connect the worlds of music and architecture. During the past two years, much of which was spent in lockdown, of course, she worked with Turkish architect Hakan Demirel to provide the music with another dimension, exploring it via a digital installation which was projected above the stage throughout the performance. Before the programme began, Ott was at pains to explain that this was not a movie, but it should enhance the listening experience. Demirel’s installation at times seems to grow out of the music, responding to its moods or offering a different perspective, the opportunity to perceive the music in a different way. Some of the imagery is hypnotic, sometimes unnerving – as we seemed to fall down past rows and rows of bookshelves, it felt like another Alice’s tumble down the rabbit-hole. These are not specific locations, but the geometry and shadows of cathedral cloister arches or the rise and fall of eternal staircases.
Alice Sara Ott
© Pascal Albandopulos
At one dramatic point, at the end of the C minor prélude, we hurtle down a concentric spiral, heading for a pool of dark water. Ott leant into the final dark chord and held her position, the projection cutting to black. When the music resumed – Pärt’s Für Alina – it came not from the piano, but from speakers placed underneath. It wasn’t difficult to see this as representative of the moment two years ago when Ott learnt she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Eventually, Ott raised her hands and resumed playing again, the artificial speakers silenced.
Music and architecture continued their exploratory connections – the late sequence where we seemed to float through cathedral arches was especially entrancing – before the structure seemed to dissolve and we drifted off into the stars from where we began. A mesmeric marriage of music and digital magic that left a lasting impression.