Ms Wang walked onto stage in a glittering dress and 10in stiletto heels, made a quick bow to acknowledge the audience, and went straight to work. Ms Wang did not speak once during her performance, she adjusted herself on the bench in front of the piano, took a deep breath and raised her arms, then she just played and she played exquisitely. Maybe the start was too abrupt for some of the audience; people coughed, they adjusted their seats, they began to realize it was on. Perhaps it was the choice of opening piece, Le baiser de l’Enfant-Jesus from Olivier Messiaen’s Vingt Regards Sur l’Enfant-Jesus, with its slow, quiet and tantalizingly restrained tempo which caught people off guard. 

Then the first cell phone went off. Someone rushed out of the hall. Ms Wang stayed steady, never rushed and the performance began to work its magic, the simple uncluttered chordal changes hypnotic in their restraint and progression, slightly ominous but also resolving into what might be a friendly Christmas carol. By mid-piece the audience was entranced. This was followed by the much more energetic and chaotic “Regard de l’esprit de joie” from the same Messiaen work, which was quick, focused and exhilarating under Ms. Wang’s touch. These two selections also functioned as something of an announcement; the recital would not be a virtuosic performance of crowd pleasers, but a journey into the more complex and murky emotional spaces that music can take us. The next selection was my favorite on the night, Alexander Scriabin’s Sonata No.8, Op.66. It was dramatic and ranging, unsettled and unpredictable but delivered with a stunning clarity and awareness. The first section of the night concluded with Claude Debussy’s L’isle joyeuse, which took me and my wife into very different places. My wife closed her eyes and later recalled a not fully-formed, deeply profound thought about how we know not even a speck of it, while I was wondering if Ms. Wang practices at home in those heels or if she just puts them on for performances as an extra challenge. 

After intermission, the performance changed. Ms Wang played Ballade 1-4 by Frederic Chopin. Over the course of these last four pieces, a minimum of 5 cell phones went off. One was a standard ring-tone. Another was an alarm with the voice of a rooster. Another appeared to be the accidental playback of an illicit cellphone recording of Ms. Wang’s performance, piano clashing on piano, drawing a quick sharp turn of the head by Ms. Wang, although her playing was uninterrupted. As this went on, it felt to me like Ms. Wang began to recede from the audience. While Ms. Wang’s engagement with the room had already been brief, now her bows seemed even quicker, the breaks between pieces and space for applause more abrupt. Ironically, the interruptions revealed just how familiar and intimate Ms. Wang is with these works. The music became her refuge and safety, allowing her to be here delicate and vulnerable and there ferocious and intense; not inviting but daring the audience to be present with her in the hall.

For most of us, the night was exquisite. And if you cant remember to silence your phone maybe you should think of a different way to burn $500. 

Yuja Wang returns to Carnegie Hall (this time with Víkingur Ólafsson) on February 19, 2025. More details here.