Reviews in May 1997


Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli: The 1957 London Recital

Works by Chopin, Debussy, Schumann and Mompou

Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, piano (Testament SBT 2088) (2 CDs)

  
The late Italian legend Michelangeli had made so few recordings. And he wasn't often heard 'live' either, since he almost always cancelled at the last minute. But despite that, no one is likely to forget this man, whose masterly pianism is as formidable as his full name.

This new reissue on Testament is something to cherish for the ages. Recorded just before the famous Rachmaninov and Ravel studio sessions (which Lawrence Poon reviewed here with much enthusiasm early last year), this 'live' recital at the Royal Festival Hall in London is equally, if not more, stunning.

My favourites were the selections from Debussy's Images. If anything, he sounds even more spontaneous, sensitive and involved here when compared to his later recordings with DG, where technically flawless accounts were somewhat marred by an apparent aloofness and sense of routine. These are atmospheric performances that emerge as beautifully mystical and mysterious as the man himself.

The mobility of the Chopin items was also much appreciated. The great Ballade No.1 has real finesse and control, with genuine poetry and an awesome vision. The posthumous E-flat major Waltz has a fluidity missing even from the most famous rival versions. And Michelangeli plunges the depths of emotions more thoroughly than almost any other pianist in the Fantasie in F Minor, Op.49.

Schumann's Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op.26 and Carnaval, Op.9 occupy the whole of the first disc. I have not previously heard any of Michelangeli's Schumann before (there is one on EMI), but from what I hear in this recital, he can be a very sympathetic and stylish Schumann player. The Op.26 has a leonine strength, swagger and macho confidence that is aptly balanced with a delicate touch and charm. The well-moulded, strongly-characterized Carnaval is just bursting with colour.

I think there is no need to say that Michelangeli's superb virtuosity throughout is so supremely effortless.

It is such a good idea to include more than half an hour's worth of material taken off the rehearsal and sound-check just hours before the actual recital. While it might at first instance be disappointing that Michelangeli was not warming up his fingers (and the piano) with music other than the scheduled repertoire, it becomes obvious after a while that here is playing of transcendental finesse (check out the flawless scales!) and fastidious sensitivity. Emotions were obviously more amplified and rawer than during the actual recital. It is fascinating to eavesdrop on a heated verbal exchange about 10 minutes into the rehearsal between several people, including the murmuring, grumpy pianist and a helpless sound engineer who gets defensive with a "Nothing to do with me!". Or the way he repeats the odd phrase here and there to correct the weight and balance of the sound.

We could all learn a thing or two just from this half an hour.

Do not be put off by the fact that this is recorded in mono. The Testament transfers are nothing short of excellent. There is an excellent ambience, warmth, presence and clarity to the piano sound, doing full justice to Michelangeli's remarkable sound-world, and putting to shame many later stereo, even digital recordings.

You must buy this one!

Written by Lionel Choi


Franz Liszt (1811 - 1886)

Piano Sonata in B minor; Liebestraum No.3 in A major; Valse oubliée No.1; Gnomenreigen; Berceuse

Franz Schubert (1797 - 1828)

Impromptu in A flat, D935 No.2

Clifford Curzon, piano (Decca 452 306 - 2)

  
At last, Decca has finally decided to reissue Sir Clifford Curzon's stunning 1963 recording of Liszt's formidable B minor Sonata, and better still, at mid-price within "The Classic Sound" series.

It is easy to understand why this account is so highly regarded. Curzon commands a handsome, never ugly, tone. He plays with aristocratic finesse, sensibility, magisterial strength and stature. And there is an enormous intensity in the dramatic fire of his playing. The demonic aspects of this music is brought out potently, and Curzon's formidable technique, which has always been used intelligently for the service of music, gives Liszt's sometimes wayward piano-writing a strong, bold passion and a commanding impetus.

In short, this is a great account. And it withstands comparison with the finest versions from the past and present. Gilels (RCA) plays with an intensity that parallels Curzon, and while Pletnev tops the list in terms of barnstorming virtuosity, Curzon's version does not quite pale beside his. I also enjoyed Argerich (DG) very much, even though she sounds wild and quite out of control beside her illustrious colleagues. And then there's Demidenko, Pogorelich, Donohoe, Browning, Zimerman and Lortie, among many others - to these ears, Curzon makes a more emphatic, sensible choice.

The rest of the disc is also well-played, especially the beautifully-balanced account of the Schubert impromptu. The Liebestraum is a little too cerebral, but still quite attractive. The recordings are clear though a little hard at fortissimos, and background hiss is still present. But these slight sonic defects are not going to distract you from the magnetism of Curzon's playing.

Written by Lionel Choi


Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827)

Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125

Jane Eaglen, soprano / Waltraud Meier, mezzo-soprano / Ben Heppner, tenor / Bryn Terfel, bass-baritone / Swedish Radio Choir & Eric Ericson Chamber Choir / Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra / Claudio Abbado (Sony SK62634)

You've probably heard the story. Well, maybe a few of you still haven't, so I'll tell it again. Do you know how they decided how much music a compact disc should hold? You don't know? Take a look at the headnote-there's your answer. That's right, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was the determining factor. This work is extremely popular in Japan. When compact disc technology was being developed there, a Sony executive insisted a single disc should be able to accommodate the glorious Beethoven Ninth. That meant, depending on the performance, it would have to hold around seventy minutes of music. Of course, that limit has now been increased to eighty minutes-plus. I'm damned glad Beethoven's Ninth wasn't a mere thirty or forty minutes in length. Aren't you?

I'm also glad to have this recording, for I love this work, love it in such a fine performance as this. That said, I'm a bit disappointed, too. Oh, the Berlin Philharmonic under the insightful Abbado plays superbly. And the superstar quartet of singers perform admirably. It's just that any new recording of the Beethoven Ninth must go up against the imposing likes of Harnoncourt/Teldec, Bernstein/DG, Jochum/EMI, and Toscanini (in any number of releases). And this recording, while compelling enough, isn't quite up to that supremely inspired level. Don't take that to mean this isn't a splendid effort on the part of all concerned here: this is a superior performance, worlds ahead of that growing heap of Ninths in the catalogs.

The first movement has a majestic sweep, an irresistible muscularity that captures that Beethovenian heroism so essential in an effective performance. Abbado's reading here exudes wisdom in his adroit phrasing-phrasing where nothing is overdone and everything sounds in perfect proportion. The Scherzo is rendered with drive and finesse, the Adagio with passion and tenderness. And the finale, especially the latter half, is full of glory and passion, commitment and exuberance. In fact, in this movement this performance matches any other I've heard when it comes to capturing that elusive ecstacy, that feeling the composer is transporting you to a new dimension of musical expression. This is a recording any purchaser can certainly be fully satisfied with. Abbado and BPO fans will surely not be let down by it, nor will those of the individual members of the highly touted quartet of singers here.

Abbado himself wrote the accompanying notes. In them he discusses the Jonathan del Mar edition, used in this recording for the first time in conjunction with the original handwritten score and other unspecified "musicolgical sources." This performing edition uncovers nothing of earth-shaking importance: it's essentially the Beethoven Ninth you know. The sound is good. Recommended, despite my reservations.

Written by Robert Cummings

(This review can also be found at Cosmik Debris, an online music e-zine.)


Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 -1827)

Piano Sonatas (complete)

Vladimir Ashkenazy, piano (Decca 443 706 - 2)(10 CDs)

  
Bored by Beethoven ? Do you get tired of hearing sentimentality, or worse, sense of struggle in (deceptively) easy-sounding passages? Even the greatest pianists indulge in slow tempi, or dissipate the considerable and varied excitement that these monumental pieces generate.

Not so Vladimir Ashkenazy. Deeply thought-out, with consummate technique, and generally fast tempi, he does not bore you with Beethoven. The Hammerklavier has tremendous panache, and famous internationally recommended versions by Gilels and Pollini are put in the shade by the sheer power of the playing. Titanic chords are tossed off with ease, making them sound easy. The Moonlight's finale is genuinely terrifying in its forward momentum.

Perhaps the main attraction is the excellent sound of the piano. Some Ashkenazy recordings from the late 80's sound painfully digital and boomy. These are analogue recordings, 1974-81, and the sound of the Steinway is at once beautiful and powerful.

It is impossible to go through the entire corpus of these monumental piano Everests in one review, so I will not try. Incidentally, the Waldstein Sonata from this set is my favourite piece in all music, but only as played by Vladimir Ashkenazy. He re-recorded it in the late '80s and I have that recording as well. But it is this earlier version that deeply moves me. There is a stunning display of sound architecture towards the end of the Rondo of the Waldstein, just before the Coda, and just after the famous re-entry of the main theme. I re-cue it very often indeed.

If you like your Beethoven with a sense of struggle, stick with Kempff's 60's cycle on DG (stereo). If you balk at spending even this amount for bargain price (10CD) sets, stick with Jeno Jando on Naxos. Barenboim, Brendel, Goode, Kovacevich, Pletnev, Pollini, Anton Kuerti, Alfredo Perl and many other pianists, famous and otherwise, have recorded this cycle. I submit to readers to try out this version, no idiosyncrasies, just pure, special Beethoven.

Written by Rajeev Aloysius


Johannes Brahms (1833 - 1897)

Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 77

Robert Schumann (1810 - 1856)

Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. Posth.

Joshua Bell, violin / Cleveland Orchestra / Christoph von Dohnanyi (Decca 444 811 - 2)

Bell turns thirty this year and is already a big-name violinist. Hearing him in these two works affirms the correctness of that coveted status. He has technique, a gorgeous, if slightly icy, tone, and a mature interpretive sense. In short, he has all the tools necessary to continue the rise to the top of his trade.

Bell's reading of the Brahms may not be revelatory (whose of late has been, though?), but neither will it detract from his meteoric ascent. This is a fine account, with intelligent phrasing, scrupulous attention to detail, a subtle, well-judged use of portamento, and a technique that can summon both a feline finesse for moments of delicacy and a lean, lionesque attack for assertive passages. The cadenza (Bell's own devising) is surprisingly interesting and expectedly well-played (track 1; beginning at 17:24). The delicious swagger in Bell's rendering of the double-stopped theme in the finale is another highlight here. Recent recordings of some merit in the Brahms have been the Zukerman/Mehta (RCA) and Mullova/Abbado (Philips). I've had a predilection for the Kremer/Bernstein (DG) from the early digital era.

But the Schumann… This may be the primary reason to purchase this disc. As the reader may know, this work from 1853 languished in obscurity, unperformed until 1937, owing to the artistically myopic vision of Joseph Joachim, whose violinistic virtuosity was surpassed only by his musicological stupidity in surpressing the work after Schumann's incarceration in an insane asylum where the composer spent the last two years of his tragic life. Luckily Joachim didn't destroy or lose the score poor Schumann had written for him, but placed it instead in the Prussian State Library from where his great-niece, violinist Jelly d'Aranyi, rescued it in the 1930s. It has steadily grown in popularity over the years and is now rightly entering the standard repertory.

Bell declares his special affinity for this work in a note included in the album booklet, and his committed playing corroborates his strong feelings. He catches those elusive, emotionally neutral elements in the first movement with the appropriate classical grace and muscle. He renders the beautiful second movement with tenderness, and never succumbs to any tendency to overstate the main theme's sweetness with too much vibrato or other affectation. Bell reads the finale with energy and wit, but doesn't skirt the quirkiness (vague hints of the composer's insanity shortly to come or just typical Schumann?).

I don't want to make it sound as though this disc is strictly Bell's show. Christoph von Dohnanyi leads the Cleveland Orchestra with an insightful baton throughout. He draws crisp, powerful playing from his Clevelanders in the Brahms and just as alert and incisive support in the Schumann. And, oh, how he so beguilingly reads the the opening orchestral crescendo of the Schumann, teasing out neurotic indecision, mystery, beauty--all in just four measures! This is a moment to savor! Good notes and excellent sound by London. Recommended.

Written by Robert Cummings

(This review can also be found at Cosmik Debris, an online music e-zine.)


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Copyright © 1997 Lionel H Y Choi, Robert Cummings, Rajeev Aloysius