Driver brings a myriad of illumination to Carnegie recital
Some concerts illuminate a single idea. Danny Driver’s recital at Carnegie Hall Thursday evening illuminated many, revealing how composers reshape, deconstruct, and redefine musical ideas throughout history.
This spirit of reinvention guided the program: the first half, rooted in structure and traditional forms, showcased Driver’s finesse and textural clarity in Handel, Fauré, and Schumann, while the second half ventured into more exploratory territory, with the contemporary voices of Gabriela Lena Frank and Ligeti leading naturally to Beethoven’s final Op. 111 sonata.
Presented by Key Pianists, a series known for highlighting artists with distinctive voices, this recital marked Driver’s Weill Recital Hall debut. The British pianist, celebrated for his versatility, imaginative programming, and musical insight, has built an impressive discography with Hyperion Records, including critically acclaimed recordings of Ligeti’s Études (2021) and Handel’s Suites (2014).
The evening opened with Handel’s Suite No. 5 in E Major, which Driver approached as a study in balance between harpsichord-like precision and the expressive possibilities of the modern piano. His ornamentation was fluid and natural, with embellishments that felt fresh on each repeat. The Courante was brisk, perhaps overly so, but the Allemande was effortlessly poised. Driver approached the Air and Variations with an earthy quality in the bass, evoking the physicality of the blacksmith’s hammer. He shaped the final variation with commanding presence, its rhythmic drive pushing toward a full-bodied, orchestral conclusion.
After the exhilarating end to the Handel Suite, the transition into Fauré’s Barcarolle shifted suddenly into an entirely different sound world, one defined by coloristic nuance and lyricism. Although Driver brought out the piece’s rich harmonic palette, his phrasing was more structured than fluid, and at times, the dominance of the left hand disrupted the melodic line.
With its sweeping sonorities and orchestral weight, Schumann’s Études Symphoniques became a vehicle for Driver’s expansive sound. Driver took the theme at a slightly brisker tempo than is typically heard, creating smooth momentum and a clear sense of direction. His interpretation showcased his stellar technique, warm sound, and a cohesive vision of the variations, making the set feel thoughtfully conceived as a whole. Particularly compelling was his handling of the penultimate variation; the layering of voices unfolded with symphonic depth—beautifully shaped yet free-flowing, allowing the counterpoint to breathe with natural expressivity.
Gabriela Lena Frank’s Nocturno Nazqueño, inspired by the folklore and landscapes of Peru, preceded the Ligeti. Rather than the sweeping lyricism associated with the nocturne genre, Frank’s writing is more textural, built from fragmented, pointillistic repeated notes that evoke the resonance of a guitar. The piece felt more like an impressionistic landscape than a direct narrative, its layered sonorities conjuring the vast, open spaces of the Nazca Desert and the ancient geoglyphs that inspired it.
Driver spoke to the audience about Ligeti’s extreme rhythmic independence between the hands, explaining that the composer “splits the brain and body in two.” Yet in performance, Driver seemed to reconcile this split entirely; his playing was so assured and seamlessly controlled that the technical dissonance between hands felt effortless. He brought an edge to the music that was never mechanical, always laced with an element of unpredictability and a touch of slightly demonic whimsy.
The transition into Ligeti’s Études felt natural, particularly with Galamb Borong following the Frank. Its pentatonic harmonies and layered textures recalled the resonances of gamelan music, forging a connection between two works that evoke distant soundscapes and ancient culture. Fanfares was one of the standout moments of the evening. Driver’s articulation in the ostinato figures was light and dashing, allowing the music to breathe even in its relentless motion. The étude’s sense of a fanfare moving closer and then receding was almost Ivesian, playing with the perception of space and proximity.
In the final work of the evening, Beethoven’s Sonata No. 32 in C Minor, Op. 111, Driver’s playing took on an entirely different character, deeply personal and uninhibited. The opening movement was impassioned, its dotted Baroque rhythms unrestrained yet firmly grounded. But it was in the Arietta that his musical insight became especially clear. He played the theme with an intimate, veiled quality—a pianistic touch that stood in contrast to the rest of the variations and the recital as a whole. Driver accentuated the humor in the third variation, with its offbeat accents and propulsive rhythms that toy with the listener’s pulse; even in these sudden bursts of humor, Beethoven’s wit remained subversive and unpredictable.
Driver played the final variation’s trills with quiet intensity and weightlessness. Less an ending than a transformation, they echoed Ligeti’s rhythmic illusions, Schumann’s sonorities, now deconstructed, and Handel’s ornaments–stretched to infinity. In this final gesture, Beethoven distilled the evening’s theme: how music never truly resolves, but remains an open-ended dialogue.
