Reviews in March 1997

Frédéric Chopin (1810 - 1849)

Twelve Etudes, Op. 10; Twelve Etudes, Op. 25; Three New Etudes, Op. Posth.

Yukio Yokoyama, piano (Sony SK 62605)

Yokoyama possesses a tonal palette of immense range, an all encompassing technique, and an innate sense to balance juxtaposing ideas within a framework that embraces, in judicious measure, passion and logic, sensuality and boldness. All the riches of Chopin are here, romanticized more than classicized, in performances that bespeak talent rarely found in someone of this pianist's youth: he was twenty-one when he made this recording in 1992, and why Sony kept it under wraps for four years, I'll never know. Better late than never, I guess. Simply stated, this is phenomenal playing. Perhaps from this single recording it would be premature to rank Yokoyama with the Chopin giants of the past and present - Rubinstein, Cliburn, Argerich, Zimerman and Ashkenazy. But the thought comes to mind still as one listens to him, mesmerized by pianism that mere words can't describe.

Hear the dynamic thrust and brilliance of the opening etude of Op. 10 (in C major - track 1). You sense instantly that you're hearing a distinctive voice, a pianist with the fingers to keep pace with his transcendental ideas. And try No. 4 in C minor (track 4) to hear dazzling passage work that infuses the piece with such a fleet and charming effervescence you're apt to become breathless in your passive role as listener. No. 5 (the famous Black Key Etude) is rendered with a delicious propulsiveness, yet balanced in the right places with a graceful delicacy. Yokoyama deftly conveys the melancholic obsession in No. 6 (E-flat minor), and the telling drama and agitation in the Revolutionary Etude (No. 12).

In the Op. 25 set he continues with the same insight and virtuosity, but now deepens his expressive language, cognizant Chopin had further developed his artistry in the three or so years that separate the two sets. Listen to Yokoyama's subtle coloration in No. 6 (in G minor - track 18) or to his tonal allure in the sweet sadness of the following C-sharp minor Etude. The one controversial reading here is of No. 3 in F (track 15), where the pianist adds weight to the base notes in this jaunty gallop along the keyboard, turning the piece into a kind of epic-sounding statement of joyous music-making. To me, this approach works; to some, however, the thicker textures may seem too caloric, at odds with the lean renderings their ears are accustomed to.

Comparisons? If I were consigned to a desert island for life, I would be perfectly satisfied with just this rendition of the two sets of etudes and the Three New Etudes. I might concede, however, that if someone could strip the sonic deficiencies from Ashkenazy's first recording of the etudes (circa 1960, now available on Saga in mono sound), I might find myself yearning for its ebullience and virtuosic flair. But even then, I believe I would favor this splendidly recorded Sony effort by a pianist I'm sure you'll be hearing more of. Highest recommendations.

Written by Robert Cummings

Johannes Brahms (1833 - 1897)

Piano Concerto No.1 in D minor, Op.15

César Franck (1822 - 1890)

Symphonic Variations for Piano and Orchestra

Henry Litolff (1818 - 1891)

'Scherzo' from Concerto symphonique No.4, Op.12

Clifford Curzon, piano / London Symphony Orchestra (Brahms) / London Philharmonic Orchestra / George Szell (Brahms) / Sir Adrian Boult (Decca 425 082 - 2)

Compared to the more famous Second Piano Concerto by Brahms, the first one, recorded here, is the more emotionally turbulent and dramatic one, with the sunny qualities of the later piece quite muted.

Clifford Curzon demonstrates a strong grip of the architecture of this monumental work. His firm grasp on each phrase is utterly compelling, and his affinity for the dark emotional undertones emerges with a powerful potency and an urgent emotional charge. Curzon never lets technical virtuosity, which he possesses in abundance, become the 'star' of the performance. His impeccable musicianship surely deserves the deepest admiration.

Right from the rugged opening, George Szell builds up the music to a full head of steam, and Curzon's first entry is nothing short of ethereal and beautiful. The variety of delicate articulation is convincingly married with rich keyboard colour, digital brilliance, and muscular power. The second movement has poetry and poise. The last movement is electrifying, aided in no small amount by Szell and the London Symphony's alert and powerfully-conceived contributions.

Curzon is similarly awe-inspiring in Franck's wayward Symphonic Variations. Boult falls a little short of being the perfect partner here, for he is somewhat callous and two-dimensional in certain passages, but the commitment and fervour of this music-making, particularly in the playing of the London Philharmonic, is quite enjoyable.

Decca adds Litolff's delicious Scherzo as a generous bonus. Curzon's playing has got everything right here: sparkle, elegance, breathtakingly light articulation and plenty of wit, executed with style and dash at a brisk tempo. Truly enjoyable.

The transfers are very good. The Brahms may not be crystal clear in detail, but there is admirable presence and warmth.

Written by Lionel Choi

Maurice Ravel (1875-1937)

Concerto for Piano and Orchestra in G major; Gaspard de la nuit; Sonatine

Martha Argerich, piano / Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra / Claudio Abbado (DG 419 062-2)

From the crisp opening whipcrack, this outstanding recording of the great G major concerto exudes energy and brilliance, which is not surprising considering the stature of star performers like Argerich and Abbado.

Argerich gives a taut, exciting and clearly articulated performance, well-accompanied by a sympathetic and vigorous orchestra. She shows her insightful understanding of this work consistently, from the jazzy and forceful interpretation of the first movement to a more aristocratic and sensual mood in the slower middle movement. Her playing is not only absolutely flawless but shows great character, and her dazzling virtuosity complements her extremely wide color palette, oscillating often icy coolness and red-hot passion. It's electrifying, for example, to hear her fingers racing dangerously fast over the keyboard over the tension-filled and pulsating final Presto. Abbado and the BPO provide unfailingly intelligent and vivacious accompaniment throughout the work.

Gaspard de la nuit is given an equally distinguished account, and the Argerich displaying marvelous poetry, character and subtlety is this difficult work. She achieves transparency and color, evoking the dreamy, surrealistic images of Gaspard's encounter with a seductive freshwater mermaid. One can almost hear the water rippling suggestively as Argerich immerses us in her very enchanting and unique sound-world.

The sonatine is one of Ravel's early composition and while this neoclassical work is clearly not in the league of the previous two works, evoking presentiments of the great things to come. Argerich carries it off well in a memorable and telling performance.

Overall, this is a very fine disc, both for Ravel and Argerich fans. Some might hold to the belief that Michelangeli's Concerto is the greatest recording of all time, but personally, I find Argerich's account equally if not more satisfying. Despite the 1967 recording date, you have my assurance the sound is not only transparent but well-balanced. All in all, a superb disc to get, especially since it's only mid-price!

Written by Melvin Yap

George & Ira Gershwin

Lady, Be Good!

Conducted by Eric Stern (Elektra Nonesuch 7559-79308-2)

This delectable Gershwin musical is probably one of the finest offerings to come from the Gershwin recording project. First performed in 1924, 'Lady, Be Good!' opened to outstanding critical notices, and ran longer than any other Gershwin musical in the 1920s. In 'Lady, Be Good!', a new kind of modern theater song was introduced and set new and lofty standards for musicals to come.

Despite a rather inane plot à la Wodehouse, the whole musical brims over with vivacity and exuberance, right from the opening notes of the overture. A number of Gershwin standards are represented in this musical, from the perennially favorite 'Fascinating Rhythm', 'So Am I' and 'Little Jazz Bird'. The hallmarks of Gershwin's music are found in full force here, driving rhythms, ebullient melodies, boldness and wit. Marvel at the freshness of 'Fascinating Rhythm', the crispness of 'A Wonderful Party' and the delectable charm of 'We are here because'.

The singing cast is first-rate and does credit to the score. Ann Morrison is a delightful Susie Trevor, her high-pitched, little-girl voice characterizing her as the petulant, slightly obnoxious sister perfectly. John Pizzarelli demonstrates his virtuosity on the ukulele, singing along with it in a winsome rendition of 'Fascinating Rhythm'. His solo performance is rapidly joined by the rest of the gang, building up to quite a thrilling climax. 'I'd rather Charleston' is another of my favorite tracks with some droll dialogue between Dick (Lara Teeter) and Susie. The ensemble singing is marvelously precise, and the results are reflected in the crystal-clear enunciation of the lyrics.

I must also not forget to mention the distinguished contributions from the two pianists, Steven Blier and John Musto, in an exciting and lively duet in Track 3. One last thing you should look out for is the wickedly funny Swiss yodels in 'Little Swiss Miss'.

As I said before, this is a first-rate disc that merits a buy by Gershwin aficionados. The sound is first-class, so transparent and well-balanced that every sound comes out clearly. And of course, the name Gershwin all but makes this disc an irresistable buy!

Written by Melvin Yap

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827)

Triple Concerto in C, Op.56

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 - 1791)

Violin Concerto No.3 in G, KV 216

Johannes Brahms (1833 - 1897)

Double Concerto in A minor, Op.102

Sergei Prokofiev (1891 - 1953)

Violin Concerto No.2 in G minor, Op.63

David Oistrakh, violin / Sviatoslav Knushevitzsky (cello), Lev Oborin (piano), Malcolm Sargent (conductor) (Beethoven) / David Oistrakh (conductor) (Mozart) / Pierre Fournier (cello) (Brahms) / Alceo Galliera (conductor) (Brahms & Prokofiev) / Philharmonia Orchestra (EMI Forte CZS7 24356 9331 - 2) (2 CDs)

This new double-CD series on EMI called Forte certainly offers very good value for money. And in the entire series so far, this is by far one of the finest releases.

David Oistrakh has always been regarded as one of the foremost violinists of the century, and one of the greatest advocates of the 20th-Century Russian repertoire, like works by Shostakovich and Prokofiev, both of whom were friends of his. And that probably explains why his account of the Prokofiev Violin Concerto No.2 is of particular interest in this reissue.

It is a splendid account, full of wit and authority, and Oistrakh plays with a magnetic personality to transfix the listener from the very first bars. The meditative quality of the slow movement is married with a sweet, gentle repose that is very attractive. And the finale is full of irresistible panache, punch and swagger. Galliera makes a sympathetic and vibrant partner.

The Brahms Double concerto sees Pierre Fournier adding his eloquent contributions at the cello. I would venture to say that this is the finest account in the present catalogue. Indeed, right now, their only serious competitor is the Sony recording by Issac Stern and Yo-Yo Ma, and while Ma plays with touching ardour, fervour and more subtle textural shading than Fournier, Oistrakh's contributions are far more characterful and compelling than those by Stern.

Throughout, there is a fine sense of partnership between the two great soloists, and the spontaneity and electrifying concentration, particularly in the outer movements, are immediately attention-grabbing. As in the Prokofiev, Galliera lends sympathetic support, though not quite as strong and as well-grasped as Abbado does for Stern and Ma.

Beethoven's Triple Concerto was a landmark composition during its time. It was the first of its kind of be scored for the unique combination of piano, violin and cello with the orchestra as concertante partners.

Oistrakh had recorded this again later, in the celebrated, star-studded version with Richter and Rostropovich on their respective instruments, and Karajan leading the peerless Berlin Philharmonic (EMI). Indeed, the star-quality in the line-up on that recording is reflected in the wonderfully spontaneous and inspired playing of all concerned.

But in this earlier version, Oistrakh and his fine Russian team are fresher, and hardly less compelling. Knushevitzsky's cello rightly dominates the trio of soloists with strong command and power. Only Sir Malcolm Sargent's orchestral backups are less outwardly flamboyant and strongly characterized than Karajan's, but he is nonetheless sufficiently thoughtful and sympathetic.

Oistrakh's larger-than-life yet infinitely sweet account of Mozart's Violin Concerto No.3 comes as the biggest surprise for me. I have never known Oistrakh to be a great classicist, but here, he proves that he is as great a Mozartian as Grumiaux, Lin, Mutter and others. A sensible and well-thought-out interpretation that is executed with a pure, strong yet spellbindingly sweet tone. If ever there was a performance of this concerto to be swooned by, it must be this one.

All recordings are excellently transferred, bringing out much detail that even some digital recordings cannot match. This must find a place on the shelves of all classical music-lovers.

Written by Lionel Choi