Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Nov 18 2025

Liz, Dale, Jere, and I heard Jean-Efflam Bavouzet in a concert at Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, a one-night performance of the complete published music for solo piano by Maurice Ravel. I've been to or participated in hundreds of chamber music concerts over the years but I'd never heard of a chamber music concert with two intermissions!

It was one of the greatest concerts I've ever heard. Jere used to tease me about this - - I used to say this more often and he'd say, "How many concerts are on that list?" and I'd say, "There might be a thousand!" But really, this would definitely make the top 100, maybe even the top 50. It was extraordinary music played with exceptional skill and style. Plus, with the concert being three hours long, it was a startling feat of stamina and concentration.

Here he is talking about Ravel - - and playing some!

The program was pretty much organized in chronological order.

"Sérénade grotesque" (circa 1893)

The thing that struck me in this piece was something that showed up over and over, probably in every piece. Bavouzet plays different articulation at the same time - - something smooth and creamy beside something tart and spiky. I imagine this is often mingled between the hands, it's not always one hand doing one thing and the other doing something else. This takes absolute mastery and he kept both of those characters consistent and distinct.

"Menuet antique" (1895)

He played this without a break before the previous piece. This piece showed off his skill at voicing - - this is how a pianist brings out an inner voice, something in the middle of the texture. Again, absolute mastery.

"Pavane pour une infante défunte" (1899)

This is one of Ravel's most famous pieces, but more famous in its version for orchestra. I was struck by how he played it in such a straightforward way, sometimes tender but never gauzy or gooey. Jere said at intermission (the first intermission) that he wondered, "Where was the rubato?" This is the expressive give and take in the tempo, speeding up here, slowing down there. Bavouzet was rather restrained in his use of rubato. Jere was pleased that there WAS some rubato before the end of the piece.

"Jeux d'eau" (1901)

Dale said, "Something happened with Ravel between the 'Pavane' and 'Jeux d'eau.' " You could definitely hear a big shift in the writing. For me, the first three pieces were beautiful music, wonderfully crafted, but it was with "Jeux d'eau" that Ravel really showed what he can do with the piano. Extravagant, astonishing. Plus he's not afraid of the very top of the piano's register - - I don't know the piano repertoire that well but I don't remember hearing other composers go that high and stay up there.

It was in this piece that I tuned into what makes Bavouzet an extraordinary artist. He never plays to display his own abilities. He always plays to reveal Ravel's genius. I can think of now higher compliment for a performer. And believe me, you totally get a display of his abilities, hell yes! But that's not his primary purpose.

Sonatine (1903-05)

This was a piece that Jere loves. I should mention that I think Valses nobles et sentimentales is the only piece I had heard before. All of the other pieces were new to me.

This piece was was full of charm and wit. YouTube doesn't have a video of Bavouzet playing it but I think Martha Argerich can pretty much fake her way through it:

I wrote in my notes, "The last phrase of the 2nd mvt is a revelation." It starts at 2:45 in this performance:

Miroirs (1904-05)

This piece has a lot of fluttering but he always played it with perfect clarity. Some of the harmonies were abstract and evasive but again, he played them with perfect clarity. By the end of the piece it had become a sort of needlework sampler of everything Ravel can do with the piano.

FIRST INTERMISSION

An announcement was made at the start of the second segment. Bavouzet had changed the order of the program. He had planned on doing Gaspard de la nuit, then "Minuet sur le nom d'Haydn", then end the segment with Valses nobles et sentimentales. He decided to open with the Haydn, then play Valses, and end with Gaspard. This messes a bit with the chronological journey but makes so much more sense for the audience. Start with a charming little piece, then play something grand and tender, then end with the monster.

"Minuet sur le nom d'Haydn" (1909)

This piece has a cheeky opening. It was darling, a sweet way to open the second segment.

Valses nobles et sentimentales (1911-12)

Again he took no break before the Valses, it felt like this piece grew out of the piece before it.

I heard this piece played by Jeffrey Siegel sometime in the 1990s. He's known for doing Keyboard Conversations, a sort of lecture recital or guided tour through a set of pieces. The performance I saw was focused on waltzes. He talked about the Ravel before playing it and then said, "If there's one piece that needs to be listened to in absolute silence, it's this one."

I wrote a list of adjectives in my notes: grand, searching, lyrical, puzzling, wistful, slightly aggressive, always dancing. Here once again is the divine Martha Argerich. Don't you love it when YouTube gives you the score to go along with a recording?

Gaspard de la nuit (1908)

I texted with my dear friend Martha Fischer the day of the concert, I knew she'd be interested to hear about it. She's a pianist so she knows what she's talking about - - she said this: "Gaspard is one of the most notoriously difficult works for the instrument. 'Scarbo' is terrifying and 'Ondine' is sublime (Bill played 'Ondine')." "Scarbo" and "Ondine" are two of the three movements of Gaspard. And Bill is her husband.

Bavouzet played it so that the melody was always the focal point - - all of the rippling and fluttering surrounding the melody was secondary. The hushed glissandi in this piece were ravishing, a slice of heaven. Dale pointed out that the glissando going up was on the white keys and the glissando going down was on the black keys. This was because of Ravel's use of the pentatonic scale, which influenced Ravel (and Debussy) after he heard it 1889.

The second movement had repeated notes from start to finish, the same notes over and over. It's a compositional masterpiece, it's amazing how he makes it continually engrossing and surprising. The third movement was dazzling. I thought of Simone Biles, how you see her do something unimaginable and it's absolutely flawless and effortless. It's like that's the only way she knows how to do it. Why would she do it any other way? Bavouzet is the Biles of the keyboard.

There was a tune in the last movement that sounded a lot like a tune from The Rite of Spring. Gaspard was written in 1908, Rite in 1913 - - did Stravinsky steal from Ravel...?

SECOND INTERMISSION

Let me mention two things before I move on to the final segment. Both of them have to do with where we were sitting. First, I have never cared about sitting on the left side of the concert hall, so I can watch the pianist's hands. I'm not so into the playing that I seek that out. Well let me tell you, I was glad we were sitting on the left for this concert, it was a thrill to watch his hands. I think I'm a convert.

And second, this was a Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center concert at Alice Tully Hall. My friend Barbara and I have a subscription this season. We went to the viola-centered program a few days before (Sat Nov 15). This was our one concert overlap with Jere and Dale, who also have a subscription. And would you believe our seats were right next to them?

Liz and her husband Tom are also subscribers - - Tom had other plans the night of the Ravel concert so she got me to use his ticket (thank God, thank Liz). I knew that Jere and Dale were also there so I said I'd find them at intermission. Liz and I had dinner before and I ran to the bathroom before going to my seat. I went to my row and would you believe she and I were sitting right next to Jere and Dale. She texted a picture to me and our mutual friend Karen that night and said this: "When the concert hall seats 1000 people but you're randomly right next to your friends..."

"À la manière de Borodine" (1912-13)

A tasty little sorbet.

"À la manière de Chabrier" (1912-13)

I was expecting it to sound like Chabrier but was not expecting it to be more or less an arrangement of "Faites-lui mes aveux," an aria from Gounod's Faust. Ravel made some tiny diversions in the melody and of course added his own oddball harmonies.

"Prélude" (1913)

This was sweet and brief. These three pieces make a lovely set.

Le tombeau de Couperin (1914-17)

The first movement set the tone of courtly elegance. This was a perfect way to the end the evening, rather than with something darkly Romantic. The fugue was a delight, clearly Ravel was doing a fugue on his own terms. The third movement was fun to watch, Bavouzet had a smiling face and a dancing torso. I loved how each movement was so distinct in its character and he played it all with such purity and sincerity in his expression.

The audience went absolutely crazy. Some members of the audience gave a standing ovation at the end of the two previous segments but the ovation was unanimous and instantaneous when he finished Tombeau.

His stage manner was so adorable. He would stand up, smile, and bow, all with the attitude of, "Oh yes, it was me who played that! I'm so glad you enjoyed it." The audience continued standing and screaming and applauding. Jere turned to me and said, "It would be great if he played an encore but what on earth could he play?"

He DID play an encore, an arrangement of "La Valse." This is a piece Ravel wrote for orchestra and then arranged for two pianos. A number of people have done arrangements for solo piano, I think maybe Ravel even did. Remember how I said that Tombeau was a perfect way to end the concert, something rather refined and elegant? Well it turns out "La Valse" really ended things with a bang.

But I do have a question: if it's a piano piece by Ravel, why wasn't it included in the program? I think it's because it wasn't originally written for piano. It started its life as an orchestra piece, unlike all of the piano pieces on the program. Some of them became orchestra pieces but they all started their lives as solo piano pieces.

What a thrill to hear him play "La Valse." He was a man possessed. At one point he was totally off the rails. Liz said it sounded like he was playing one piece with his left hand and an unrelated piece with his right hand. I felt like there were some wrong notes here and there but who the hell cares - - he was playing with highly controlled recklessness. He had nothing to prove and nothing to lose.

Here's my future sister-in-law Yuja Wang playing it. She goes for it but isn't as demented as Bavouzet.