Introduction
The most recent article delved into my opinions on the idiosyncrasies of two famous classical pianists: Daniil Trifonov and Yunchan Lim. In response, one of my adult students quite naturally asked for my opinion on Lang Lang–the guy whose extravaganza and artistic license is a byword in the world of classical music. Is he all fun and games, or does he go too far? Would I recommend my students copy him in any way?
Without claiming to answer every charge laid at Lang's feet, here are three aspects of his career that form my opinion of him–which is largely positive with one caveat.
1. Steamrolling Traditions
To me, there are few moments more amusing than when centuries of this-is-the-way-we-do-things are steamrolled by a guy with a backbone, making hundreds of pearl-clutching white collars cast side-eyed glances at one another, muttering, "What are things coming to these days?" It is never automatically good that this happens, but the spectacle is a funny one.
This, in my estimation, is how Lang Lang strikes the world of classical piano. It may be wrong that he does this; it may be right that he does it. The way he does it may also be right or wrong. We can hash that out later. One thing, however, we ought all to agree upon: it is funny. Observe the shenanigans in this performance of Mozart's Turkish March, and please have a chuckle or two, especially at 1:51-2:05 in the video.
By launching the speed of this little piece into the stratosphere, Lang is shattering the traditional understanding of how Rondo Alla Turca ought to be played (if such a thing exists). The facial expressions, the body language, the seemingly faux formality in accepting applause at the end–all of these traits conspire to render a memorable performance that entertains.
It is perfectly executed, too. Barely a note is out of place, and the variegated expression (at such speed, too) is awesome to behold.
But ought he to steamroll tradition like this? It may be fun and all, but isn't it... er... sacrilegious or something?
Firstly, I do not think it sacrilegious, for 'sacrilege' as a concept has distinctly religious overtones and I strongly oppose any attempt to turn music into a religion. If music is a created reality–a gift to us as people–then any genuine enjoyment of that gift that does not disparage it has, I believe, a moral green light.
Secondly, the question of trampling upon traditions can be addressed with reference to Chesterton’s fence. The famed writer is reputed to have argued that if, while walking an ancient meadow, you chance upon a rickety fence for whose existence you cannot think of a good reason, you have not thereby earned the right to tear it down. You must first go in search of the reasons in favour of the fence–and only then, having done your research, may you decide whether to keep it.
Applying this to classical piano: if Lang wishes to break with tradition, he ought to do so if and only if he understands the reasons for their existence and can argue against their necessity. To me, he seems like a smart guy who would do just fine if asked to justify himself and his shenanigans.
2. Performance and Narcissism
Lang Lang is a performer, and he knows it. That's how he earns his keep.
Now, in principle, there is nothing necessarily wrong with being an extravagant performer, so long as your goal is not to stroke your own ego but to elevate the art, and so long as the extravagance is not, well, weird.
Having watched Lang play many times (though never in person), it is my opinion that he is not overtly narcissistic. There may be narcissism lurking in his heart, just as there may be with all of us, but he does not flaunt it like something to be proud of–it is not on display.
What is on display, however, is an overt extravagance that is sometimes weird.
"But," my frustrated imaginary interlocutor protests, "can't you be more specific than 'weird'?? What exactly do you mean?"
What I mean is this:
Some of these moments are plain charming; others evoke in me a response of “Please don’t ever look at me like that. And certainly keep those eyebrows away from my womenfolk.”
If pushed, therefore, I would say that I have a problem with his extravagance. Though I do so with less of the heartiness that accompanies my disapproval of those pianists who appear possessed by their music. I generally observe Lang’s antics with a chuckle, a roll of the eyes, and a “There he goes again. C’mon mate.”
3. Change Over Time
It is also worth pointing out that Lang Lang has changed over time, and for the better. The Lang Lang of fifteen or twenty years ago was less of a master showman and more of a clown on the piano. He did not know, as he clearly does now, how to deploy each eyebrow like a grandmaster moving a bishop to E6. The antics these days have a purpose, and they seem consciously chosen.
To see, for example, the way he explains Liszt's Consolation No. 2 in the following video presents and eye-opening change from earlier videos online.
He is clearly a well-adjusted, sober master of his craft in this demonstration.
The trajectory of any man is worth considering when an evaluation of his character and maturity is at stake. Lang Lang's trajectory has been, as far as I can tell, excellent.
Conclusion
Those who object to Lang Lang’s extravagance have a point. I think it is often a little unusual. Those who object to his artistic license don’t, for they are objecting to something that sits at the heart of art itself. If you may never push artistic boundaries, then where is the art? The world does not need fifty thousand young men who can play Rondo Alla Turca in such a way as would satisfy your AMEB Grade 7 examiner’s spectacles. It does need original, refreshing performances–the sort that go beyond what has gone before, to push the boundaries of what is possible on the piano.
So please: be like Lang Lang. But also don’t. I hope you know what I mean.
