Last night I saw piano virtuoso Evgeny Kissin play Brahms Concerto No. 2 with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, James Levine conducting. Kissin is kinda a big deal in the world of classical piano. A Russian-born prodigy, Kissin was playing at age two, performing on stage at age 10, and recording at age 12 to amazed acclaim (here for video of 12-year old Evgeny). Like child stars of any discipline, Kissin could have very well grown up and gone bonkers – forging Valium prescriptions, assaulting prostitutes, getting plastic surgery until he resembled his sister – but he is now in his late 30s and still dazzling audiences around the world.
It was a sold-out night at Symphony Hall. An unusual amount of Russian was heard while navigating through the crowds. Kissin played the Brahms concerto following the intermission, and after suffering through a lulling Brahms symphony in the first half, the audience was ravenous for Evgeny’s appearance. Frenzied, even. On the brink of ripping the 32-foot long pipes off of the Aeolian-Skinner organ and smashing the decorative Roman statues to bits. Kissin! Kissin!
Our seats were six rows from the stage, but centered so that the Steinway obscured the piano’s keyboard. The well-dressed symphony dowager at my right overheard me lamenting that we would not see Kissin’s magical hands at work, and pointed out two empty seats to the left of us in a better position. She had a hint of mischief in her blue eyes that I savored, but we didn’t have time to switch seats because Kissin and Levine appeared on stage.
I don’t much care for Brahms, but it was a pleasure to see Kissin perform. His trademark poof of hair, thinning though it is, bounced in the air as his body labored over the keyboard. With each solo, his face underwent a cycle of steely concentration, fevered euphoria, and orgasmic release before returning to nonchalance when yielding to the orchestra. For a solid hour, I sat motionless, my body rigid against the waves of kinetic energy emanating from Kissin’s piano.
A strange thing happened after the second of the four movements: An ambulance could be clearly heard from the busy Boston streets outside of Symphony Hall, and Levine waited for it to pass before beginning the third movement. He waited, and waited. While no one laughed outright, a strange mirth siezed the audience. Just seconds ago we were listening to a world-class symphony orchestra and Evgeny Kissin, and now we sit, 2500 strong, in silence, listening to an ambulance.
