A sold-out sign for Korean pianist Yunchan Lim's April 24 recital hangs at the entrance of Carnegie Hall in New York City. Courtesy of MOC Production
“He looks like a teenager, but plays like a master from the 1980s.”
“He has such an innocent face, but when he plays, he becomes a completely different person.”
“It was amazing — like a birthday gift.”
On April 24 at Carnegie Hall in New York, the crowd lingered well into the night after the performance, animatedly sharing their impressions. This was the scene following pianist Yunchan Lim’s third Carnegie Hall recital, held a year after he left a powerful impression with Bach’s Goldberg Variations.
That evening, Lim performed Franz Schubert’s Piano Sonata No. 17 in D major (D.850) along with Alexander Scriabin’s Piano Sonatas Nos. 2, 3, and 4. Rather than choosing popular repertoire, he filled the program with works demanding deep interpretation and intense concentration. Lim explained that he wanted to “create something that endures the passage of time and remains in memory for a long time,” adding that he chose Schubert and Scriabin because they are composers he has long loved.
In the first half, the Schubert piece clearly showed what kind of musician Lim is becoming. Japanese author Haruki Murakami, known for his deep appreciation of classical music, wrote in “Kafka on the Shore” and his music essay collection “Absolutely on Music” about the “imperfection” of Piano Sonata No. 17. Precisely because of that imperfection, Murakami argued, the work draws in the human heart — and if performed too smoothly, exactly as written, it cannot become true art.
From the very first movement, Lim transformed the work’s irregularity into a driving narrative force rather than a weakness. The 40-minute performance did not feel long at all.
This piece is often called “Gasteiner,” as it is said to capture Schubert’s impressions of the grandeur of nature during his travels to the spa town of Bad Gastein, south of Salzburg, Austria. It is typically described as progressing through movements of vitality, lyricism and playfulness, gradually transformating and expanding. But Lim approached it differently.
Rather than remaining within a single emotional state, each movement simultaneously held joy and anxiety, humor and sorrow. With his characteristic rubato — free, flexible control of tempo — he concluded the piece with an unexpected timing and tone, adding a touch of wit even to the final note. Smiles spread across the audience’s faces.
Source: Korea Times News
