Georgian pianist Giorgi Gigashvili, who ends his time on the BBC’s New Generation Artists scheme this year, is an exciting performer with flair whose musicianship shines brightest in moments of intimacy and reflection.
Pianist Giorgi Gigashvili is an enthusiastic presence on stage. His shoulder length frizzy hair accentuates a long face and strong jawline, giving crazed scientist/glam rock vibes. He’s in his last year as one of the 2023/25 BBC Radio 3 New Generation Artists cohort. The platform the scheme provides has clearly been an enjoyable opportunity for the pianist from Georgia, whose smiles, head nods, and looks to the ceiling depict a man energised whenever he finds himself at a keyboard.
The first movement allegro from Fanny Mendelssohn’s Four Songs Without Words is a joyous musical depiction of abandon full of unexpected harmonic jolts that make the listener draw breath. Gigashvili takes this at pace, whipping us into a frenzy, dazzling us with fluid virtuosity. Whilst the playful dynamic contrasts are appreciated, the melodic line is sometimes lost. The expressive second song reclaims control, but it is the third movement larghetto where a more cohesive performance emerges. Masterful transitions abound, particularly from middle to concluding section complete with tantalising hesitations. The concluding presto sees a return to the fluid accompaniment heard in the first song with improved balance of voices, though the fortissimo splashes sometimes feel a little forced in the Pittville Pump Room acoustic.
The sense of cohesion continued largely throughout Felix Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words, Op.19 with tenderness, darkness, and delicacy underpinning an assured performance. The fifth song was by far the most successful from Book 1, suggesting Gigashvili had by this point tamed the piano and mastered the acoustic.
The standout work was Clara Schumann’s Variations on a Theme of Robert Schumann. This beautifully economical work moves instinctively from variation to variation, creating a satisfying whole. Here Gigashvili responded with ease, creating magical moments that combined fluidity, dynamic contrast, and playful delicacy. The fifth variation with its crashing bass line had a theatrical, occasionally bombastic feel bordering on the overstated, though polish and pizazz energised proceedings.
Concluding a demanding near-80 minute first half, Robert Schumann’s first sonata in F sharp minor, Op. 1 saw Gigashvili thrive in the introspection, reflection and intimacy of an epic work. The transition into the second movement pivoting over a single chord had us on the edge of our seats.
If the first half had hinted at the twenty-five year old pianist from Tbilisi’s stamina, Prokofiev’s eighth piano sonata in B flat major, Op. 84 in the second half proved it. Some of the ideas and voices were lost in the mush of the pedal and acoustic during the first movement. Prokofiev’s beautifully spiky language demands a drier sharper edge, even in the first movement where the balance between crawling melody and gruff bass accompaniment could have been a little more rigorous. The charming second movement waltz took us a step closer to this ideal with a gentle, padded and more deliberate feel. The dryness was found in the third movement, where Gigashvili’s fluid fingerwork has a crispness to it, the articulation enhanced by extreme dynamic contrasts.
Gigashvili is undoubtedly a powerful and enthusiastic musician — sometimes not quite gauging the right intensity for the instrument or the acoustic, occasionally striking fortissimos dominating the mix. His more intimate and reflective playing is where his musicianship is most readily found. Above all else there is nothing quite so appealing as the infectious enthusiasm and self-evident appreciation of a performer on stage.
