Dual pianos, dueling personalities

Emanuel Ax and Yefim Bronfman gave a two-piano recital at Walt Disney Concert Hall on Wednesday, reminding us that the attraction of pianist for pianist can be nothing but trouble.

First, there are those unwieldy monsters. The pianos, that is. They may have the right curves to nestle together, but the players sit nine feet apart, peering unsociably at each other like a couple at the opposite ends of a nine-foot dining table.

Second, two keyboards don’t necessarily produce a richer sound than one. Textures easily thicken, and what a lot of clatter four aggressive hands can make on 176 keys.

And then there is the music. Two-piano masterpieces exist, particularly by Mozart and Schubert, but also, from the 20th century, by the unlikely likes of Ferrucio Busoni, Max Reger, Pierre Boulez and John Cage. But do duos play these pieces? Not often. The usual fare is something famous and orchestral and splashy, arranged for four hands.

Wednesday’s recital was not without pianistic clot and clank. The big pieces were reductions of Ravel’s fleshy “La Valse” and Stravinsky’s radical “The Rite of Spring,” extravagantly colored orchestral canvases reproduced in black and white.

Yet the concert was, in its way, wonderful.

Ax and Bronfman are of a type, and it is not the type usually found sitting nine feet apart. Two-piano teams tend toward the glamorous and flashy, say the seductive Labeque sisters or the volatile Martha Argerich and one of her brave partners. Flamboyance is one way to keep two pianos from seeming too much of a good thing.

With Ax and Bronfman, we have a couple of frumpy, chubby pianists originally from Eastern Europe and now New Yorkers who would look perfectly at home sidling up to the appetizing counter at Zabar’s. Both pianists have a reputation for being characters offstage, particularly Ax (almost universally known as Manny) for his practical jokes.

But if they are not exactly flamboyant, Ax and Bronfman are at least distinct personalities. The former conveys irresistible warmth, his playing slightly understated at times but robust and lyrical and ever satisfying. The bearlike Bronfman, with technique to burn, is wilder, woollier, more electric and always good for a thrill.

Their program started with worthwhile Debussy. The two-piano arrangement of Schumann’s Six Canonic Studies, originally written for the now obsolete pedal piano, is sheer ear candy, a center of Bach-like counterpoint given layers of delicious Schumann harmonies and coated with Debussyan glitter. There was much to savor here, and Ax and Bronfman gobbled, I thought, a little too hungrily at first but settled down soon enough.

Ironically, Debussy’s “En Blanc et Noir,” which followed, was, despite its black-and-white title, the evening’s one piece written specifically for the colors of two pianos. This time, the pianists inspired the best from each other -- Bronfman’s brilliance sharpening Ax’s sensitivity to phrase and touch, Ax softening Bronfman’s edge. The middle movement’s solemn war sentiments were touching and probing.

From then on, with “La Valse” and the “Rite,” it was all macho swagger -- that is, as much macho swagger as can be coaxed out of a mensch or two. “La Valse” really did swing. When an orchestra plays Ravel’s satirical score, the effect brings to mind the final paroxysm of decaying Vienna. Ax and Bronfman egging each other on are one crazed couple on the dance floor, and there is something terribly amusing in that.

Stravinsky’s “Rite” loses more than it gains in the version the composer made for two pianos. Without the pungent sonorities, without a full orchestra overexcited, Stravinsky’s revolutionary score assaults fewer barricades.

But this is surprisingly pianistic music. I was struck by how Chopinesque Ax made the “Spring Round Dance” seem in the first part. And I’m sure everyone in the audience was struck by how Russian a pounding-as-if-his-life-depended-upon-it Bronfman made the “Sacrificial Dance” at the end.

The encore was the slow movement from Brahms’ Sonata in F minor. This is the composer’s arrangement of his F-minor Piano Quintet, which Ax and Bronfman have just recorded. It was played with an alluring, airy beauty that all but erased the original version from at least one listener’s mind -- a nine-minute flight into the two-piano clouds.