Review: Full house came for Lang Lang's charisma, and that's what they got

In the new world order, anyone who is China's biggest musical superstar comes this close to being the world's biggest musical superstar as well.

Classical pianist Lang Lang wears this mantle comfortably; he's the type of celebrity who signs autographs during intermission and poses with fans for snapshots. As he strode onto the main stage of Benaroya Hall on Sunday afternoon, his gracious acknowledgment of his fans extended all the way up to the nosebleed seats as he craned his neck toward the rafters.

As well he should have: He sold out all 2,500 seats, an impressive feat in this economy when tickets start at $40 and shoot to $125.

Had I paid that much money for my seat, I might have been more finicky about the dolorous tempo of the Coriolan Overture and the soporific Pastoral Symphony (No. 6, in F major) that bookended the main attraction. But it was obvious that most of the audience really didn't care about the rest of the all-Beethoven program: They had come to see Lang Lang, and the Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major was simply a good excuse.

A stately piece with more than a whiff of Neoclassicism in its frills and trills (think Handel and Bach), the second concerto is a preferred showcase for speed demons with monster technique. The young Beethoven composed it early in his career to show off his precocity. Famed Argentine pianist Martha Argerich has played this piece often; her 2004 recording of it on Deutsche Grammophon is jaw-dropping in its pellucid tone and torrential energy.

Lang Lang's technique is just as fierce: His extenuated fingers float high above the keys like aerialists, landing precisely with lightning speed. The ease with which the notes come to him goes without saying; at the keyboard Lang Lang is like a child at play, utterly without strain or unease.

What he does with those notes, however, isn't always too clear. I mean this in the literal sense, because Lang Lang has an extremely heavy pedal foot. He pressed his way from note to note and run to run, creating at times a beautiful opalescent legato effect and at others a lovely muddle. This tendency to smooth things out unnaturally — a kind of Botoxing of the musical line — was most evident during the extended solos at the end of the first movement and the beginning of the third.

Why quibble with Lang Lang's pedal use, if the end results sounded quite pretty? Because when a musician of such obvious talent performs, one wants to hear him be as brilliant as he thinks he's being. There were moments, in the poignant and slow second movement, when Lang Lang's utter belief in the music he was creating became palpable. Notes hung in the air like crystals, and his evident joy in their beauty was obvious to the audience. For all his showmanship — melodramatically wafting hands and all — Lang Lang is, at heart, an innocent, without a trace of cynicism. His immersion in the music is real and unforced, and that kind of engagement is impossible to fake.

Does Lang Lang deserve his superstar status? He definitely has the chops and the charisma. To catapult himself into the ranks of such world-class giants as Vladimir Horowitz, Argerich and Krystian Zimmerman, Lang Lang needs to strive for something other than beauty. His encore could have been the perfect place to take a chance. Instead, we got a marshmallow, a fluffy Chopin Etude, Opus 25, No. 1.

Not all music is meant to sound pretty and sweet and smooth, unless it's being piped into an elevator. With a bit of an edge, he just might conquer the world.

Sumi Hahn: sumi@bewodo.org