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An evening of solo piano music is a dicey proposition in any venue. The music and the performer are at the mercy of ambient noise coming from the audience—and, depending on the space, from the world outside.
The Old Church Concert Hall is less forgiving on that front than most. When Icelandic artist Eydís Evensen began her lovely set of exquisite instrumentals, a streetcar immediately started rumbling past the building. And throughout the hour, the creaks of the wooden pews, coughs, and various rustlings from the attendees cut through the delicate chords and gently fluttering melodies teased out by her right hand.
If the intrusions fazed Evensen, she didn’t show it. Her concentration was remarkable, pausing as she did before each song to center herself before beginning. In her quiet, lightly lilting voice, she talked about how she wrote one composition at age 7 as a response to a traumatic event, and that another was inspired by a nephew who had succumbed to leukemia.
She didn’t need to say anything. The emotion was palpable throughout each song, creating images of joyful and painful events alike. And opener Cyane, the new project of Sage Fisher, set the tone for an evening of self-reflection and healing through her baldly direct lyrics of injury and sensuality (which were enhanced by her tenderly piercing harp playing).
The power of the music was, however, undercut by the unnecessary visuals projected on the stage, which included sonogramlike images of the performers, clouds and, strangely, mermaids. They often served only to break the spell that Evensen and Fisher cast on us.
