The Problem of Playing Too Well (on Yuja Wang’s Hammerklavier)

Occasionally, performances have the power to rewrite the way we think about classical masterworks, not only because of ingenious execution on the part of performers, but because the media response reveals the role of critics in upholding traditional values. In 2016, the pianist Yuja Wang toured Beethoven’s legendary Hammerklavier Sonata, the 45-minute zenith of piano repertoire. Wang brought indomitable technique into dialogue with the physical narrative of a work once considered unplayable, opening discussion about what makes virtuosic playing so exciting. In a strange twist, the performances were met with mixed reviews.

Since Hammerklavier was composed over two centuries ago, the work’s monumental status has hinged on the sheer physical and intellectual challenge that its performance poses. The composer Hector Berlioz, in attendance at the work’s first recorded public performance in 1836 (given by Franz Liszt), described it as ‘that sublime poem regarded by almost all pianists till now as the riddle of the Sphinx’. Although Hammerklavier is now heard more frequently on the concert platform, its discourse remains dominated by the same narratives of struggle and triumph, where the conquering Romantic protagonist is mythically white and male.

If the story of Hammerklavier is centered on its insurmountability, then Wang’s effortless rendition ought to have been cause for celebration. However, many reviewers agreed that through her ease she’d somehow missed the point. A New York Times review described Wang’s performance at Carnegie Hall as ‘assured to a fault’, portraying her effortlessness as a pitfall, while praising Murray Perahia’s Hammerklavier (staged at the same venue the week before) using opposite reasoning: ‘if in moments he seemed pressed to his limits, and dropped some notes, this enhanced the sense of something monumental taking place’. It plays into the frustrating double standard by which men’s displays of effort are celebrated, and women’s effortlessness when faced with the same task is dismissed.

While both performances were extremely accomplished, these responses reveal the risks of appealing uncritically to old narratives. Critics can gate-keep the canon as collateral, preventing those who don’t see themselves in that stereotypical Romantic protagonist from participating on equal terms. And that’s without unpacking the onslaught of unwarranted comments on Wang’s body and clothing.

Returning to Wang’s Hammerklavier after eight years, we can reflect on how much language matters when maintaining a traditional artform. Is there no room in the canon for retellings and reimaginings of these classic works, just as there are in so many other artistic traditions? As I see it, Wang’s rendition holds open space for a Hammerklavier that is as much about women’s excellence in the spotlight as it is about the drama of human physical challenge. What’s more, Wang’s effortless clarity brings transparency and light-footed momentum to an often too impenetrable work, allowing breathing room to appreciate Beethoven’s writing at its most dense and complex. One of the wonders of classical music is the array of possibilities when it comes to interpreting its masterworks, and Wang’s performance shows just how that process can flourish.

In the meantime, I’ll be listening to both Perahia’s and Wang’s wonderful interpretations: I like to think there is enough room for all these stories, and more to come, in Hammerklavier’s mythology.