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The Man Who Turns Wheezing into Wonder New York
Merkin Hall at Kaufman Music Center
12/11/2025 -
Jean-Philippe Rameau: Overture from Pygmalion*
Johann Sebastian Bach: Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor, BWV 582*
Franz Liszt: Transcendental Etudes, S. 139: 10. “Appassionata”*
Anatoly Kusyakov: Finale from Sonata No. 6 “Stained Glass and Cages of St. Paul Cathedral in Munster”, Op. 42
Franz Schubert: String Quartet No. 14 in D minor “Death and the Maiden”, D. 810: 4. Presto*
Per Nørgård: Anatomic Safari
Camille Saint-Saëns: Danse macabre, Op. 40*
Igor Stravinsky: Suite italienne*
Hannah Ishizaki: Inhale, Exhale (New York Premiere)
Radu Ratoi (Accordion, Arranger*), Lun Li (Violin) 
R. Ratoi (© Efremoff Studio)
“... the vile belchings of a lunatic accordion”
Arthur Honegger
“This program is a statement of my belief in the accordion’s boundless potential and my passion for elevating its voice on the concert stage.”
Radu Ratoi
Accordion-antagonists would look at the last four weeks in New York like malarial mosquitos.
Last month, Weill Recital Hall presented the Latvian virtuoso Ksenija Sidorova. Last night, Merkin Concert Hall presented the Moldovan virtuoso Radu Ratoi. Both of them played on the Steinway of accordions, the Pigini Nova. Both combined original accordion solos with arrangements of well‑known classical pieces. Both enjoyed speaking to the audience before each work.
Best of all, one (or I, a one-time accordionist) had loathed the instrument for the ten minutes. Then was astonished at the dexterity and artistry of both performers.
And both gave the lie to one-time champion accordionist Dick Contino. This writer had asked him how he could play an instrument which squeezed, bellowed, played reedy keys with monotonous left‑hand chords.
“Simple,” said the affable artist, “I make it sound like anything but an accordion.”
That was simple enough. Facing his keyboard were two‑dozen finger‑pedals which transformed the accordion sound to piccolo, cello, contra‑bassoon or C Major trumpet with chords for the left hand.
Here, though, we had–beside the chords–a whole piano‑like chromatic scale next to those chordal buttons. Thus, in theory (and perhaps in practice), one could play tunes, scales and arpeggios with three fingers, simultaneously playing full chords with the other two fingers.
The results for both artists was astonishing. But Radu Ratoi last night showed a fiery adroitness with all ten fingers that could not be believed.
Actually, for those of us going to hear Daniil Trifonov on Saturday, we know that those human digits have stratospheric flights with Steinway keys. The accordion keys were equally light. Mr. Ratoi seemed not to press them. Rather, give them a feather‑light touch.
Ditto for the volume, going from whispers to cries on both sides of the instrument.
One caveat. I was incredibly impressed by Mr. Ratoi’s digital genius in his arrangements. But during the famed Bach Passacaglia, or works by Rameau, Saint‑Saëns and Liszt, I inevitably wondered: “Why?”
Why bother with transcriptions? Yes, we were all suitably impressed. But I doubt if anybody was moved.
The two exception was the Presto finale from Schubert’s Death and the Maiden, where the treble figurations gave real fiddler’s timbre. And Stravinsky’s multi-transcriptions from Pulcinella, played beautifully by fiddler Lun Li.
The late Per Nørgård was the amazing surprise. Certainly the greatest Scandinavian symphonist of this century, the Danish artist–who claimed never to repeat any of his 400 musical personalities–presented the most sparkling playful four movements. Going from an accordion “bellows cadenza” (my words) to a woodwind imitation to percussive drumming on the instruments body and a toccata (played with impeccable clarity by the artist) to a climax where Mr. Ratoi actually stood up and danced to a folkish dance.
H. Ishizaki (© Shervin Lainez)
Next was the world premiere of Inhale, Exhale, by the 26‑year old Hannah Ishizaki, here with her introduction. She had been entranced by all the different colors of the instrument (most of us find it monochromatic, but that changed over the course of the evening), creating a jumpy piece, unstable, alert, sporadically gloomy and bumpy, edgy and romantic. I loved it.
The virtually unknown Russian Anatoly Kusyakov gave Mr. Ratoi to show extreme volatility a with endless arpeggios (alas, no glissandi on this instrument), and a series of loco motives.
Mr. Ratoi, then, was transformed from more than a master of his craft. He took an instrument known for campfires and French subways, and here somehow transformed wheezing into art.
Harry Rolnick
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