Le Piano Symphonique, Lucerne: from Martha Argerich & friends to Jean Rondeau in self-indulgent form

Martha Argerich at KKL Luzern (Photo: Luzerner Sinfonieorchester)

Beethoven: Cello Sonata in G minor, Op.5 No.2, Violin Sonata in major Op.47 ‘Kreuzer’, Debussy: En blanc et noire, Prelude a l’apres-midid d’un faune; Mischa Maisky, Janine Jansen, Martha Argerich, Stephen Kovacevich; Le Piano Symphonique at KKL Luzern
Sisyphus; Jean Rondeau, Ocubo; Le Piano Symphonique at KKL Luzern
Reviewed 16 January 2026

Any appearance from Martha Argerich is a joy, and here at the festival where she is associated artist, she chose a programme notable both for its variety and for her collaboration with various friends. By way of contrast, the evening ended with Jean Rondeau bringing the harpsichord into the 21st century

The evening concert on Friday 16 January 2026 at Le Piano Symphonique at KKL Luzern placed the emphasis firmly on pianist Martha Argerich. She was joined by friends, cellist Mischa Maisky and violinist Janine Jansen for a pair of Beethoven’s instrumental sonatas, and then pianist Stephen Kovacevich joined her for a pair of Debussy works for two pianos. In a surprising and enterprising leap, the final section of the evening was devoted to harpsichordist Jean Rondeau giving a very contemporary spin on the instrument with his improvisation Sisyphus.

The more subversive amongst us might have noted that it was an evening of ‘big hair’, not just Martha Argerich’s famous mane (though she indulged in little mane tossing), but Mischa Maisky seemed to be channelling an ageing member of Queen, whilst Jean Rondeau brought more recent bad-boy images to mind, notably Kurt Cobain.

Beethoven’s Cello Sonata in G minor is one of a pair that he wrote when visiting Berlin in 1796 and it was premiered there by Beethoven with the King’s cellist. Beethoven composed the first fully-developed cello sonatas in the modern tradition, rather than the earlier style of accompanied sonatas. Mischa Maisky and Martha Argerich took a very modern approach to the work, and in particular Maisky seems to have been uninterested in any historical perspective on the work. The opening was fully of drama with Maisky being very free with the phrasing, leading to some finely sung melodic lines. Throughout, Maisky applied vibrato in generous proportion and a sense of romantic phrasing. He was discreetly and elegantly supported by Argerich who brought poise to the piano part when it came to the fore. The second movement was lively and full of character, with Maisky producing some delicacy in the solo line though still with highly romantic phrasing. Argerich started the third movement almost before Maisky was ready. The interest here was definitely in the piano. The whole performance had a feeling of being of a particular time, the performers’ approach to Beethoven taking no account of more modern practices, seeing this 18th century work through a romantic lens.

After an interval, Argerich returned with violinist Janine Jansen for a performance of Beethoven’s Kreuzer Sonata (perhaps better named the Bridgetower Sonata). The work opened with an intimate gesture from Jansen, then developed into a rather internal dialogue between Jansen and Argerich. The main part of the movement was urgent and vital, yet Jansen’s vibrato-led approach was notable for the romantic view of the work. Jansen was always matched by Argerich, though it was notable quite how much clarity the pianist was able to bring to her role. The second movement was intimate and discreet, the delicacy of the music shading almost into a waltz. In the third movement, Jansen belied the richness of tone to create a remarkably inward performance. We had a crisp and urgent account of the finale, with both performers seeming carried away by their sheer enjoyment. It was this aspect of the performance that drew us in. Frankly, I would rather have heard a violinist like Rachel Podger in this music, but the sheer personality of the combination of Argerich and Jansen drew you in.

There was then a long pause for the technical crew to reset the stage and the microphones before Martha Argerich and Stephen Kovacevich returned for Debussy’s En blanc et noir. Kovacevich seemed to be having difficulties walking (he is 85 to Argerich’s 84) but once seated at the piano all hint of frailty disappeared. Debussy wrote En blanc et noir in 1916, during World War One, when illness prevented him from contributing in some way. The music does include coded messages about the conflict, but of a more musical relevance is that fact that Jeux had premiered a few years earlier. En blanc et noir has that piece’s sense of fluctuating rhythms and colours. The first movement positively shimmered with motifs emerging and disappearing, with subtly underlying rhythms being emphasised. The second movement was more quietly controlled, yet here there were threatening low notes under the shimmering textures. At one point there were hints of trumpets before it all receded. The finale was fast yet mysterious, but also restless.

Argerich and Kovacevich then moved to Debussy’s Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune in the composer’s transcription for two pianos. The opening ‘flute’ melody was notable for the sheer beauty and simplicity of phrasing that Kovacevich brought to it. Throughout we hardly missed the colours of the orchestra as the two pianists brought lifetime’s worth of experience into the subtlety, delicacy, detail and sheer magic.

After another interval, the technical team had done more wizardly and Jean Rondeau’s prepared harpsichord was wired up to the sound system. The instrument was prepared a la John Cage but also had modern looping techniques. In addition, there were visuals from light artist Ocubo with sound and light sometimes intimately linked.  Initially, Ocubo’s contribution was somewhat underwhelming and it took time for their creative vision to appear fully. From hints of cosmos and stars the visuals then veered into more disturbing realms before fracturing into quasi-20th century Futurism. Rondeau’s main influence seems to have been Conlon Nancarrow and his preludes for player piano. Rondeau’s obsessive use of furious repeated notes throughout the improvisation constantly harked back to Nancarrow. There were other, more self-indulgent moments including playing inside the instrument as well as whole fistfuls of notes from his forearms. It was not always clear what we were listening to or how the sounds had been created. Certainly the carte blanche that the setup brought seems to have made Rondeau’s intellectual contribution veer towards self-indulgence and the whole rather lacked a sense of structure. 

It was not clear when the improvisation would end. With the rather audible departures of audience members, we wondered whether Rondeau would stop when he no longer had an audience (a very Cageian idea). In fact, the younger members of the audience stayed and were voluble in their appreciation of Rondeau’s performance.