The concert by Isil Bengi on Sunday, January 18th left a deep and lasting impression. The afternoon took place in the Sint-Rochuskapel, located in Mariadal in Hoegaarden, and was organized by Classical in the Chapel. In this intimate and acoustically warm space, a carefully constructed musical journey unfolded, with water serving as a connecting thread: flow and stillness, power and vulnerability.
From the opening notes, it was clear that this was no loosely strung-together recital, but a program with strong internal coherence. In works such as Alkan's Song of the Madwoman by the Sea and Massenet's Still Water water resonated as a metaphor for inner movement and stillness. This atmosphere was further deepened in the restrained sound world of Brahms' Intermezzos and Mussorgsky's A Tear. The silence in the chapel was palpable and invited listening, allowing every nuance to stand out sharply in the space.
At the start of the concert, Isil Bengi herself gave a brief introduction to the program. In doing so, she referred, among other things, to the tragic figure of Julian Scriabin, whose life ended abruptly when his body was found in the Dnepr River at the age of eleven. As a tribute to this promising but prematurely deceased composer, she had deliberately included one of his works in the program. This context gave the subsequent listening an added layer of meaning, in which fragility and intensity went hand in hand.
What followed was a concert characterized by concentration, nuance, and a powerful inner tension. Kara Toprak by Fazıl Say, which Isil had deliberately placed earlier in the program, made an immediate and profound impression. The physical presence of the music, combined with her enormous technical mastery, held the audience completely spellbound from the first measures. It was music that not only sounded but became tangible, with tension and energy continuously simmering beneath the surface.
Even in lesser-known repertoire, such as the miniatures of Ulvi Cemal Erkin and the short pieces of Komitas, Isil Bengi managed to chart a clear musical path. Her playing remained consistently focused and subservient to the music, with an effortless command of tone, timing, and dynamics. The audience followed this line attentively and visibly captivated.
As the concert progressed, it became increasingly clear how masterfully Isil Bengi controlled the instrument, not as an end in itself, but as a means to build and give breath to a world of sound. In the final piece, The Tides of Manaunaunby Henry Cowell, everything came together. The massive sound fields and undulating movements were executed with impressive certainty, and once again the audience was fascinated by the combination of physical power and absolute control. Yet it was above all her focus and her intense commitment that lingered: a performance that completely drew the listener into the breath and movement of the music.
The silence after the final note spoke volumes, before it was broken by sustained applause that culminated in a standing ovation. In the understated space of the Sint-Rochuskapel, in Mariadal in Hoegaarden, that moment became a shared final chord. It was clear that for many, this concert had been more than a musical event alone: an experience that had built up slowly and that, once over, continued to resonate long afterward.
