Ode to soul piercing sounds of György Kurtág

On 19 February 2016, György Kurtág celebrated his 90^e birthday. Though frail, the Hungarian grandmaster of soul-crushing notes is still working on his first and only opera, Fin du Partie (Endgame), based on Samuel Beckett's play of the same name. The prologue was already premiered at a grand birthday festival at the Liszt Academy in Budapest, where he himself once studied. On Thursday 13 October, Reinbert de Leeuw and the Asko|Schönberg a portrait concert around Kurtág at the Muziekgebouw aan 't IJ.

The first time I heard Kurtág's music was at the 1995 Holland Festival. Led by Reinbert de Leeuw, the Schönberg Ensemble played, among others What is the Word, that Kurtág composed for Hungarian chansonnière Ildikó Monyók. She lost her voice in a traffic accident, recaptured it with great difficulty and stammered a text by Beckett. She looked tiny and vulnerable on the immense stage of the Concertgebouw Amsterdam's Great Hall.

I sat nailed to my chair. The audible effort with which Monyók produced her raspy, ragged sounds gave me chills. Involuntarily, I clutched at my throat, as if I was personally prevented from speaking. Also Grabstein for Stephan, which Kurtág composed for a psychotherapist who was helping him get rid of a writer's block made a deep impression. However seemingly simple, the windswept arpeggios over loose guitar strings with which the piece opens irrevocably drag you into a story full of unspoken fears and unfulfilled desires.

Inner necessity

It is impossible - at least for me - not to be touched by the deep inner need from which Kurtág's notes bubble to the surface. Some time after the concert in the Concertgebouw, I happened to bump into him in the Planetarium of Artis. I spontaneously pressed his hand and thanked him for his intense and expressive music. Somewhat surprised and bemused, he looked at me through his large glasses. With a single word and a coy nod, he thanked me for my words, then made a hasty exit.

Unlike his colleague and compatriot György Ligeti, Kurtág has never been a public figure. He is shy and reclusive, concentrating one hundred per cent on his music. Asko|Schönberg's concert on 13 October is an ode to his penetrating sound universe and also marks the conclusion of a year-long project to record all his ensemble and choral works for CD. The box will soon be released by the adventurous German label ECM.

During the concert, an excerpt will be shown from a film portrait Kurtág's granddaughter Judit made of him. Given his shyness, it is remarkable and gratifying that he gave permission for this. According to the press release, she recorded very closely how he operates. He also speaks candidly about his own struggle to get the right notes on paper. A document to look forward to.

From ultra soft to deafeningly loud

Also special is the performance of Kurtág's Double Concerto opus 27 no. 2 for piano, cello and ensemble, which is not played very often because of the large number of musicians. It opens with hesitant, staccato notes played by the piano, to which the cello responds with similar motifs. Gradually, percussion and other instruments mingle in the argument and the instrumentation expands to 14 woodwinds, two string quartets and two brass quartets, arranged to the furthest corners of the hall.

In this more than 15-minute double concerto, Kurtág takes us through a huge range of atmospheres, from ultra soft dreamy passages to oorsplittingly loud tutti moments. In addition to alienating, seemingly false quarter tones, we hear snatches of Beethoven and Ustvolskaya; there are even some jazzy moments where the brass turns out nicely. Soloists are the pianist Tamara Stefanovich and cellist Jean-Guihen Queyras, who also signed for the CD recording.

Kurtág is contextualised with music by Ligeti, Schoenberg and his twelve-tone companion Anton Webern. Especially Webern would have a profound influence on his way of composing. Not so much in terms of style, but in the aphoristic way he strung his pieces together. With the early Schoenberg he shares the expressionist expression of feeling, with Ligeti, who died in 2006, he shares a love of the folk music of his native Transylvania.

Would the frail Kurtág venture the journey from Budapest to Amsterdam to attend this concert? He is a great admirer of Reinbert de Leeuw and was closely involved in the CD recordings. When I spoke to him in 2011 for De Leeuw's biography he passionately praised his attitude towards his music:'He LISTENS! The composer's opinion is important to him. And not only his opinion, but also the how and why of a piece'.

So who knows, maybe Kurtág will indeed honour us with a visit, together with his inseparable wife Márta. I fervently hope to shake his hand one more time.