An Evening of Play in Manila Pianos with Pianist Junhee Kim

Live Soundscapes by Joseph John L. Verallo | January 30, 2026

A playful glossiness characterizes Junhee Kim’s pianism. You could see this in his notes, which he articulated with such sparkling crispness, as well as with his choice of repertoire. That evening at Manila Pianos in Makati, Kim treated the audience to a program featuring the lighter, more charming pieces of Chopin, Saint-Saëns, Ching/Scarlatti, Ravel, and Kapustin.

Kim’s choice of opening with five Chopin waltzes was almost a declaration that the evening would be a spirited affair. The Polish composer’s Waltz in A-flat, Op. 34, No. 1 set the mood with its fanfare opening. Kim forthrightly displayed his technical brilliance with the waltz's galloping notes followed by quick descending flourishes. His effortless motions through the piano created a sound that, despite its playful nature, maintained an elegant composure. A sophisticated polish of the Polish composer’s music.

Kim’s masterful articulation was a breath of fine, fresh air. However, with the Manila Pianos’ echoey halls, his tones often found themselves evaporating into the air, conglomerating into tonal clouds that muddied the sound, though by no fault of the performer whatsoever.

In contrast to the A-flat waltz, the Waltz in A minor, Op. 34, No. 2 presented a solemn, brooding attitude on the piano. Without surprise, Kim showed great understanding of Chopin’s lyricism, alternating between the left and right hands’ lyrical portions. The waltz was a momentary departure before returning to Chopin’s more jovial moods with the following Waltz in F major. The latter’s perpetual motion was another fun exhibition of technique and clear tone.

The Waltz in D-flat, Op. 64, No. 1 (the famous Minute Waltz), was, in a way, a thematic extension of the F major. What caught my attention was the sense of yearning Kim elicited with each elongated tone that concluded each of the Waltz’s runs. Like with Op. 34, Chopin followed with a contrasting waltz in the minor key after the D-flat. The brooding quality of the C-sharp minor waltz evoked a more poetic melancholy with its smooth flowing lyricism, something brought out once again by Kim’s clear tone.

The evening’s lineup of Chopin was concluded with one of his most beloved works, the elusive Barcarolle in F-sharp, Op. 60, elusive because the piece is not only demanding of one’s technique but also of one’s artistic understanding. Here, Chopin expresses a less-examined sort of splendor, one mixed with wonder, meditation, and even poignancy, creating an oxymoron of emotions that only the Polish pianist could have described. Kim does his part, especially with the pinnacle of lyricism that Chopin exhibited in this piece. The pianist showed that the light character of the waltzes was not all he understood of Chopin, mustering deeper affectations needed for this difficult work.

The following piece, Danse Macabre, arranged by Liszt/Horowitz, was a complete departure from the lyrical poetry of Chopin and into the visual poetry of the later romantics. Up until now, Kim’s pianism established itself as a distinguished singer; here, however, it made its evening orchestral debut. Danse Macabre announces itself with a single note repeated four times, reminiscent of bells. Kim enchantingly evoked several timbres on the piano. His virtuosity especially brought out the spine-chilling sounds in the tone poem’s haunting portions. Thus was the evening’s first half concluded.

Kim returned to the piano after the intermission to give the Asian premiere of a piece by one of our country’s most distinguished contemporary composers, Jeffrey Ching. Sonata Domenica for piano is an oddity of a piece that presents two of Scarlatti’s sonatas (K. 208 and K. 209) as they were originally written before subtly introducing modern idioms.

Before playing, Kim shared his ideas about the piece, how the juxtaposition of Baroque tonality with contemporary post-tonality could be taken as an attempt to reminisce about the peacefulness of the past while living through the chaos of modern times. Kim’s elegant composure, coupled with his spirited tone, nonchalantly displayed this odd temporal tension. Overall, the piece could be seen as music’s equivalent to visual art’s retro-futurism.

What followed were three pieces by Ravel. The first, Jeux d’eau, was another excellent display of technique and smooth outflow of notes. Here, the “watery” acoustics of Manila Pianos sometimes worked in favor of establishing Ravel’s desired atmosphere.

After was Ravel’s Pavane pour une infante défunte, a deeply sentimental piece of music. The constant eighth notes on the left hand playing at the backdrop of Ravel's poignant melody gave off the impression of a ticking of a clock, creating this awareness of the passage of time and the remembrance of things past. I often found myself pulled out of this spell, however, when the pianist elicited a somewhat heavier tone in portions where something more tender was more appropriate. This was a bit odd since Kim showed much care when playing Chopin.

The next Ravel, Alborada del gracioso, was unique in that he gave off a more fluid sound than most interpretations would have, usually being more emphatic on the Spanish rhythms the piece invoked. Just like with Danse Macabre, Kim displayed clear intention in painting the tonal images of Ravel’s Impressionism.

After his Ravel set, Kim stood up to introduce his finale piece, Nikolai Kapustin’s Variations, Op. 41. “The classical portion has now ended,” the pianist half-joked. Variations is a distinctly jazz-infused piece that transforms Stravinsky’s primordial bassoon motif from The Rite of Spring into this cool-flowing dance. Kim’s musical persona that evening was properly adapted and aligned with the swing rhythms. The piece was a pleasant sendoff for the audience in line with the evening's theme.