Critic’s Notebook: Martynas Levickis and the Accordion Take Center Stage at the Schubert-Saal

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Akkordeon zu Mittag: Kleiner Seelenjubel für zwischendurch

Martynas Levickis Autograph Bach, Glass, Angelis, Levickis (Accentus, 2023) US | UK | DE

Astor Piazzolla Aconcagua, Las Cuatro Estaciones Porteñas Martynas Levickis (Accentus, 2021) US | UK | DE

Squeeze It, Baby!

Accordion lunchtime concert in the Schubert Hall – a small dose of sunshine to go

In the classical world, the accordion suffers from a certain lack of pull. Poeple do not, as a rule, flood concert halls to hear the accordion. Outside those hallowed halls, the instrument first patented (if not quite invented) in Vienna is actually reasonably popular – from olde-times sailor captains wheezing away on piers of Europe to Weird Al, Oktoberfest oompah bands, the proud culture of the Styrian harmonica etc... I mean, it's the official instrument of San Francisco, for Pete's sake! It’s a pity, then, that the accordion leads such a shadow existence in classical venues, for concerts featuring one (or, better yet, two) accordions tend to be reliably, even disproportionately, satisfying. Wednesday lunchtime at the Konzerthaus was no exception. And if one must lead a shadow existence, there are worse places to do so than the Schubert Hall, sunlit and bright even in January.

There, Lithuanian accordionist Martynas Levickis – something of a superstar in the compact world of accordionists – offered a lunchtime recital that guided listeners through some 500 years of music. That only two of the works on the programme were originally written for the instrument did nothing to diminish the experience, though it may help explain the accordion’s perennial struggle for classical credibility. After all, who really knows the concertos written for it by Louise Reisner (solo), Niels Viggo Bentzon, Sofia Gubaidulina, or Erkki-Sven Tüür? Accordingly, Renaissance music arrived instead in the form of a melancholy Greensleeves. A chorale-like somber-sounding Scarlatti followed, then a Bach that was all quicksilver brightness. Mozart’s Andante for mechanical organ – a piece containing far more than mere robotic doodling – was brought vividly to life by Levickis. Remarkable, what can be achieved with dynamics alone: from mouse-like tiptoeing to puff-cheeked thunder. One hardly missed the lack of registers that, say, an organ can deploy.

A Chopin waltz introduced a hint of nostalgia, redolent of old films, courtesy of the lavishly expansive rubato. Mahler’s Adagietto chimed neatly with the Visconti focus currently at the Vienna Film Museum (Death in Venice runs once more on February 22nd), sounding atmospheric without tipping into sentimentality. And with Philip Glass’s Mad Rush, a Piazzolla encore (“he didn’t like the accordion, but then, he’s not here today”), plus two of his own works, the concert ended on a couple of genuine crowd-pleasers.

As after every accordion concert, the inescapable thought lingered: one really ought to listen to far more accordion concerts whenever the opportunity arises.

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