Reviews in May 1998

I think these recordings need no introduction to the experienced listener. Now re-coupled and re-released as part of the Kyung Wha Chung Edition on Decca, this serves as a timely reminder of Ms Chung's greatness as not just as a violinist, but as a consummate artist of the highest integrity. No schmaltzy effects or cheap tricks with her. Every time she plays, she plays from the heart.

These works, especially the Franck, emerge with a persuasive power and sweep one rarely encounters in any small-scale chamber music-making. She is incomparable in the introspective moments, where she is full of sensuality and also conveys an indescribable sense of touching spirituality. In these recordings, she captures not just the essence of the music, but presents, in a natural, unforced manner, a profound understanding of the deepest human emotions. And in pianist Radu Lupu, she found a wonderful, eloquent, and hugely sympathetic partner. Magical.

The Chausson Poème is not exactly a generous filler, but is attractively played, if not quite in the league of the sonatas.

This really should find a place on every music-lover's list of desert island discs.

In this superb CD from the relatively unknown Japanese pianist Chitose Okashiro, I daresay I have found one of the most intelligent and stimulating piano recitals I have encountered for some time.

It starts aptly with Scriabin's masterly and enigmatic 5^th sonata, whose neglect is baffling. Okashiro commands a technique that at once stands out in its brilliance and individuality and she dashes off the turbulent and prickly passages in the Scriabin with real passion and verve. While this version might not quite eclipse Horowitz's legendary recording of the same work, it is nevertheless pretty stunning all the same.

Any doubts about Okashiro's virtuosity and wide tonal palette are dispelled in the small but well-selected set of Debussy works. These are remarkably thoughtful and evocative performances and the performer brings to the fore a keen understanding of the imageries behind the pieces. 'Mouvement', a glittering toccata depicting the flow of water, is given a magical and exhilarating performance. It is hard to quibble with Okashiro's interpretation and one might even say that they compare favorably with Gieseking's own celebrated historic recordings, although the high quality digital sound might take away a little of the atmospheric and nostalgic aura associated with the mono recording.

The final two works on the disc are modern compositions by Japanese musicians. Toru Takemitsu is a self-taught musician and his 'Rain Tree Sketch' is a quiet, pensive work embodying eclectic elements from Western and Eastern influences. This work pays homage to the beauty, order and symmetry of nature and is both eerie and mystical sounding to the ear. There are shades of Schoenberg and Webern in a meditative mood here. The final work by the pianist herself seems to be a close cousin of the penultimate offering and is equally dissonant in mood, conveying the impression of a tortured and emotion-wrought soul. While these two works are unlikely to be popular with the masses, they offer an unusual filler for a remarkable disc.

With outstanding sound and playing, this disc has everything going for it. If you don't like the last two tracks, you can always program your CD player to skip them. Highly recommended.

After a self-imposed five-year hiatus from playing, Kennedy is back with everything -- from turnip hairdo and candid mannerisms to devil-may-care attitude and outlandish onstage wardrobe -- except his first name. He is one artist you either love or hate, and it is almost always hard to stay neutral to his performances. Take his recent re-recording of the Elgar concerto -- I've read as many reviews that have trashed it as there are rave write-ups.

In the space of less than three months, EMI has gallantly offered the violinist the opportunity to record a follow-up album. This all-Kreisler album seems like an unlikely choice for someone who is trying to make a comeback, but Kennedy does some wonderful work here.

I am sure Kreisler himself, the King of violin lollipops, never intended that any of his miniatures should ever be taken even more seriously than it should. They are pretty, sometimes frivolous pieces, always irresistibly melodious and sweet, and never fail to bring smiles to faces. In the right hands, they are even capable of achieving some emotional intensity to tug at the heart-strings.

Kennedy, at his usual highly-individual and thought-provoking best, doesn't really attempt to blow up Kreisler's tuneful bonbons into full-scale sonatas or something along that line (thank goodness!). Of course, the line between overdoing something and executing a piece of music with a strong, unique personality is certainly a dangerously fine one, and Kennedy doesn't quite tip-toe on it cautiously either, choosing instead to run across the tightrope with no safety net below.

The results are very occasionally overwhelming, but almost always satisfying. The engineers have turned on the spotlight on him far too brightly, and fortissimos become crude and harsh. But he still manages to display an astoundingly wide dynamic range, dropping to some ravishing pianissimos in introspective pieces like the bittersweet Liebesleid. The Londonderry Air comes across with lyrical strength amidst its nostalgic atmosphere. The two Danse Espagnoles are dazzling and full of panache, if a fraction too overpowering. Midnight Bells is suitably evocative, with violinist Katherine Gowers making a brief but important guest appearance.

Never mind John Lenehan's piano accompaniments are stodgy and thoroughly uninspiring beside his controversial partner; Kennedy's indomitable spirit shines through, and only the die-hard Kennedy bashers and the most picky critics would find little that is pleasing.

The String Quartet, a peculiar work but a rare gem nonetheless, is quite a different story -- it is far from idiosyncratic, and is wonderfully played from a quartet of friends, led by Kennedy himself, with plenty of spirit, conviction, splendid unanimity and remarkable technical finish.

A final note: after the last track, leave the disc to continue playing, and you will find that there is some extremely soft, slow, long-drawn-out string-playing that isn't credited in the liner notes. The pop/rock industry has long started this trend of putting in (often cryptic) 'hidden' tracks in albums, and it seems like Kennedy, a self-confessed Jimi Hendrix fan, is trying to pull off the same thing. I have absolutely no idea what the sustained playing is all about. The wildest guess I can come up with has something to do with subliminal hypnotism. Creepy, isn't it?

Two fairly youthful works by Schumann performed by one of the most musical young pianists on the circuit: what a sparkling combination!

Unlike many of his star contemporaries, Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes' claim to fame was via a gradual process, involving an impeccable concert track record and a growing discography of mostly outstanding quality, instead of a major competition win that can hurl one into the overly bright limelight.

This disc was awarded the prestigious Deutschen Schallplattenkritik prize, his second since his earlier recording of Janácek piano works on Virgin Classics, and it deserves it. Andsnes' playing is marked by consummate artistry and maturity, yet in the early Sonata, Op.11, he is capable of a youthful freshness that is most appropriate. The first movement, at a tempo that is on the fast side, starts with a dark tumultuous inner spirit and intensity, but never grows into a forceful hurricane, remaining instead a deceptively dramatic opening for the first subject, which bounces with a certain springy quality, with top notes ringing with bright vitality. A nice natural retardation for the second subject lends a simple yet touching and infinitely eloquent contrast. With this kind of start, one expects nothing but greatness from the rest of the performance, which Andsnes delivers, with panache.

The second movement 'sings' with a child-like innocence. The third is marginally less convincing, with Schumann's rather awkward, jagged rhythms emerging with some degree of squareness, although, like in the first movement, he helps by keeping things light and buoyant. The work is capped by a finale that is played like a confident (not ebullient) declaration of youthful eagerness -- commanding, masculine and strong, yet always fresh, transparent and sparkling.

The Fantasy in C, Op.17 is also fairly successful, full of delectable keyboard colour, poetic insight and imaginative touches, although next to rivals like Pollini (DG), who, besides having good fingers, also plays with a mesmerizing sense of powerful spirituality, Rubinstein (RCA), who is a poet of the highest order, and Richter (EMI) (who can possibly forget his magnificent vision and the splendid strength that he brought to this piece?), Andsnes ends up sounding as if he doesn't quite dig deep enough into Schumann's soul.

EMI's recording sounds as sparkling and resplendent as Andsnes' playing.