Concertgebouw

And, then, after 9 hours on a bike, there was Aldo Ciccolini's recital at the Concertgebouw.

The Grote Zaal was an approximately square-shaped room not much bigger than Victoria Concert Hall, but they crammed it full of seats: seats along the walls at sides of the aisles, seats---permanent ones, too---on the stage behind the peformer. The pianist was surrounded by members of the audiences on all sides. The seating capacity resulting from squeezing the available space to such an extent couldn't have been far shy of that of the Esplanade's concert hall. Maybe it was to be expected, given that the place was built and founded by a group of businessmen.
Surrounding the hall was a veritable complex of cloakrooms, corridors and terraces. The audience crowded into the terraces before the concert and during intermission for drinks; it was as crowded there as the MRT during rush hour ... and it was quite an audience too. Almost full house, save for the right side of the stalls.
The decor was very 19th century ... and along the entablature of the columns inside were inscribed the names of various famous composers contemporary at the time of the hall's construction. There was Dvořák, and Schubert, and Beethoven, and many others, including some whose names are rather less well-known today.
Notwithstanding the age of the hall, the acoustics were excellent. The piano sounded, from my seat five rows back, just as it would to the pianist ... although my seat was on the stage, and that might have meant better acoustics. It didn't hurt one bit either that Ciccolini was a masterful pianist, and was fully in control of his fingers at all times ... never did spot the slightest slip throughout the concert, even during the two encore pieces. And it wasn't just technical mastery either: I had not imagined Clementi could be played so vividly, and his playing gave Ravel's Valses lucid shape and meaning. De Falla's Spanish pieces were rendered in their full fiery livelieness. It was really very, very good.