Matei Varga: The Year That Never Was
Sono Luminus

For NYC-based Romanian pianist Matei Varga, 2020 was a difficult year marked by isolation, uncertainty, and anxiety. Yet it also proved liberating in wiping his schedule clean and affording him time to be at home with his piano and venture deeply within. It also brought with it the joy of a new discovery, namely Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona (1895-1963), who in Varga's own words, became “the man I love” and the primary impetus for the solo piano recording that gradually materialized, his second album for Sono Luminus.

Varga, who's performed as a soloist and recitalist at concert halls in New York City, Berlin, Barcelona, Geneva, and Paris, hasn't issued an all-Lecuona album, however; instead, pieces by Scarlatti, Balakirev, Beethoven, Gershwin, Chopin, and a world premiere from contemporary Romanian composer Andrei Tudor are interspersed in amongst those by the Cuban composer. The decision was judicious: not only does variety enhance the recording, it establishes interesting connections from Lecuona to the others. Like Gershwin, he enjoyed a career as a popular pianist and composer and like Chopin excelled at writing salon music and memorable miniatures; further to that, Lecuona's even been called the “Cuban Gershwin” and the “Chopin of the Tropics.” Despite the fact that the set-list spans four centuries, the album ends up feeling integrated as a result of such connections.

The bar's set high at the outset when Lecuona's “Andalucía” (from Suite Española) opens the release with a devilishly ravishing melody and irresistibly rollicking rhythm. Shifting gears immediately, Chopin's Trois Ecossaises, Op. 72 No. 3 proves as enticing for its blithe spirit and generally joyful demeanour. The enthusiasm Varga brings to the Lecuona material carries over into familiar settings such as Gershwin's “I Got Rhythm” and Beethoven's “Für Elise,” the former as infectious as ever and the latter showing the delicate touch of which Varga's capable. Having served up samplings of others, he returns to Lecuona for five endearing selections from XIXth Century Cuban Dances, the Cuban flavour of each strengthening its charm. Repeatedly, one marvels at how smooth the transition is from one piece to the next, with “Für Elise,” for example, flowing seamlessly into Lecuona's “La Cardenense” and his “Minstrels” leading with startling ease into Chopin's Impromptu No. 3, Op. 51 in G-flat major. Following that, Lecuona's “Zambra Gitana” equals “Andalucía” for melodic allure, the material again offering evidence in support of Varga's embrace of the composer. Elsewhere, the charm of “Danza Lucumi” and hush of “Yo te quiero siempre, canción” bolster the release's impact.

With its swinging jazz rhythms, Tudor's aptly titled Rondo alla Crazy drinks from the same salon piano well as Gershwin's and suggests the distance separating American and Romanian composers can at times be very small indeed. Varga's range is such that he can shift from Tudor's high-spirited rondo to the tenderness of Balakirev's Spanish Melody in a flash. In contrast to the melodic song character of the Lecuona and Gershwin selections, two keyboard sonatas by Scarlatti add a formal classical dimension to the recording, though they're hardly bereft of melody either.

August 2022