Lubomyr Melnyk - Royal Albert Hall, London 27/11/14

03 December 2014, 09:00 | Written by Russell Warfield

(Live)

(Lubomyr Melnyk)

It begins with a freewheeling preamble of several minutes. He has unkind words for the colour of his piano, and waxes lyrical about the importance of the keys’ overtones. He announces himself as a disciple of Xeno, and discredits the validity of “science”. He confidently tells us that we might think that his playing is “impossible”, but assures us that one day he was “just like us”. And in spite of how all of this might sound – Lubomyr Melnyk remains charming and engaging through it all; his stream-of-consciousness verbal interludes reflecting the indulgent style of his continuous piano playing; refrains running and wandering for bars and bars, elegantly unfurling over 15 minute-plus running times as they bloom into arrays of colours.

The Ukrainian pianist treats us to four of his pieces tonight, beginning with a warm-up demonstration of his style, before giving way to the gorgeous simplicity (comparatively speaking) of new EP cut “Butterflies”. It’s a song which he brags he could “play in his sleep” but is given an extended running time and second piano part tonight, such is his impulse towards length over brevity, allowing the audience to sink deeply into the textures of his music. The balance between beauty of melody and showcase of ability is struck perfectly in this piece. The central refrain is immediate and exact, while the counterweight of the second piano part allows Melnyk to glide against his own grain, letting the notes of one piano fall into the crevices of the other in seemingly – yes, he was right to say it – impossible rhythms and patterns.

He’s not in the business of showing off its own sake, however, and the evening’s third piece in duet with guitar is a fruitful exercise of restraint. It’s a much more ambient piece with the instruments all but melting into one another, where passages run timelessly, and its apparent featurelessness only serves to make the performance more arresting. For all his lack of humility about his skill, it’s not misplaced confidence – and the subtle touch of much of his music proves himself to put artistry over ego at every turn, at least when he’s actually playing the piano rather than talking about it.

Nonetheless, it’s wonderful to hear him pull all of his threads together and use each of his tools in tandem. The night’s final piece – and entire post-interval programme – is the show stopping opus “Windmills”, telling a story loosely based on an 1933 Academy Award winning Disney animation: an old windmill being brought to action for the last time while facing its destruction in a storm, signing a final farewell to the Earth below as it ascends to heaven. It’s remarkable how imagistic Melnyk is able to make his music – moving from the silent, inanimate stony low notes of its early passages, before moving through its sorrowful yet uplifting climax of blissful melody.

Tonight, Melnyk succeeds in offering emotional engagement in music which could easily be a cold showcase of technical ability. He’s not just an extraordinarily talented and singular pianist. He’s an accomplished composer who can make the piano sing to your heart as much as your head, and that’s what gets prioritised tonight. With the spotlight on Melnyk’s soul rather than his fingers, the performance is a mesmerising, elegant hour and a half of music, using technical accomplishment to enhance the listener’s emotional response, rather than distract from it.