The Many Gifts of Krystian Zimerman

Salzburg, Austria — Krystian Zimerman, the famed Polish pianist, has said that he will not play in America: He is angry at America and American policy. But he is perfectly happy to play in Austria, that model among nations. He played a recital on Tuesday night in the Great Festival Hall, Salzburg's premier venue.

The Salzburg Festival begins in late July and continues until the end of August. People here believe that this is the world's most prestigious music festival. And they are not to be argued with.

Mr. Zimerman's recital began at the stroke of 8 — that is very Austrian. There is no "grace period" (to put it nicely), as we have at home. His program consisted of Bach and Beethoven on the first half, and two Polish composers on the second.

His Bach was the Partita No. 2 in C minor. In the first section of the opening Sinfonia, he was both authoritative and tasteful. He demonstrated his renowned singing tone, and also an extraordinary sense of rhythm. He was not too free, and not constricted, either. This falls under the category of musical judgment.

The Sinfonia becomes speedy, and Mr. Zimerman, unfortunately, was all too speedy. Worse than that, he was out of control, nearly causing the music to break down. Was this a case of nerves, from this veteran? It would seem unlikely.

In the rest of the partita, Mr. Zimerman was generally refined and exemplary. The Allemande slunk along satisfyingly. The Courante was a bit rattling and mechanical — but the ensuing Sarabande was positively exquisite. Subtly pedaled, it seemed almost Impressionistic. And Mr. Zimerman again demonstrated that extraordinary sense of pulse, his internal clock — a necessary device for all of music, but especially for Bach.

I found the Rondeau over-ornamented. But the fiendish Capriccio — which closes the partita — was first-rate. Crucially, it was not too fast, allowing the music's character to come out.

Mr. Zimerman's Beethoven was the "Pathétique" Sonata, which, like the Partita No. 2, is in C minor. This was almost surely no accident. And Mr. Zimerman gave us a memorable reading of this very familiar work.

The first movement had drama — high drama — but Mr. Zimerman's taste prevented overemoting. Fast sections were too fast, in my view (and this was contrasting with Bach's Capriccio). You don't need speed to convey Beethoven's impetuosity. But Mr. Zimerman was within bounds, if only barely.

And he played the famous slow movement phenomenally well. The movement is marked Adagio cantabile, and, as we know, Mr. Zimerman can sing. Beyond that, he supported his "voice" very intelligently with his left hand. And he lent this movement a rare sense of compactness, or efficiency. The Adagio cantabile was tidy as well as beautiful.

The pickup notes that begin the closing Rondo had a surprising feather touch — a right touch. And seldom do you hear such beauty in this movement, though Mr. Zimerman allowed due vigor, too.

The audience in the Great Festival Hall called Mr. Zimerman back again and again, reluctant to let intermission proceed. This is not something you see every day.

In the second half, the pianist played Bacewicz and Szymanowski. This first composer is Grazyna Bacewicz, who lived from 1909 to 1969, and learned her craft from Nadia Boulanger in Paris. Mr. Zimerman played her Sonata No. 2 — not a neglected masterpiece, by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly worth hearing once. (Twice?) It has a lovely slow movement (Largo), which Mr. Zimerman gave not only his customary beauty but also great nobility.

And the Szymanowski he played was a student piece, begun when the composer was still in his teens. This was the Variations on a Polish Folk Theme, No. 10. There are moments of genuine inspiration in this work, including a nifty funeral march. Some of these variations could stand to be isolated, as separate pieces. There are also moments of no inspiration, including the Finale, which is so bombastic, not even Mr. Zimerman could dignify it.

But Mr. Zimerman is obviously fond of this work, as he should be. As the audience applauded him, he gestured toward the piano, in an apparent effort to acknowledge the music and its composer. I had never seen this before. (Mr. Zimerman had no score to point to.)

After many, many curtain calls — the guy, unlike most, has to be begged — Mr. Zimerman played one encore. It was Brahms's Intermezzo in B minor, that mysterious dream of a piece, which Mr. Zimerman played surpassingly. It is almost made for him.

Very few pianists are granted the honor of a recital at the Salzburg Festival. Mr. Zimerman proved himself deserving of this honor. He has a formidable musical mind, and no end of tonal colors. As he proved in the second half of this recital, he is also a stunning virtuoso. And, while he is clearly self-confident, there is very little egotism in his playing. He is content to serve the music.

Finally, this business of boycotts — it is curious. Some will not play in America. Some will not play in Israel (the British violinist Nigel Kennedy is one). One and all would be happy to play in North Korea, I suppose, as the New York Philharmonic did earlier this year. Yes, it's a funny old world, isn't it?