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GREAT PIANISTS Vladimir Horowitz (piano)

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Scarlatti, Haydn, Schumann, Chopin, Liszt, Rimsky Korsakov, Debussy, Stravinsky, Poulenc

NAXOS 8.110606
TPT 1:17:31

 reviewed by Neville Cohn

In this centenary year of pianist Vladimir Horowitz’s birth in 1903, a flood of re-issues of recordings he made over a long career brings to a new generation of listeners the idiosyncratic virtuosity of a musician whose artistry captured the imagination of millions. This is yet another fascinating compilation in Naxos’ admirable CD series devoted to resurrected recordings made by great pianists mainly during the first half of the 20th century.

For sheer digital brilliance and phenomenal left-hand power and authority, Horowitz was virtually without peer, as is abundantly evident in these performances recorded between 1932 and 1934 when at the peak of his formidable form.

Some may take issue with his over-romanticised treatment of two Scarlatti sonatas. But few, surely, would fail to thrill to his near-incredible finger facility, especially in relation to his trademark, machinegun-rapid repeated notes and wondrous glowing tone in the Sonata in G, L487. And in Haydn’s Sonata in E flat major, Hob XVI/52, the sort of music that could at times suffer from overly flamboyant treatment at the hands of the Russian-born virtuoso, is here enchanting. The outer movements bristle with vitality but very much in context in stylistic terms ­ there is no lapse into vulgarity here; it is the
essence of good taste, musicmaking that, even in repose, fully engages the attention, as does his account of Schumann’s Arabesque, masterly in its simplicity of presentation, and capable, surely, of melting the iciest heart.

Nowadays, keyboard athletes in Olympian form are ten a penny, all of them endeavouring to emulate the great Vladimir. But, digitally agile though they may be, there is little to distinguish one from the next. Frequently, there is a conveyor-belt- sameness about their presentations that make it difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish one from another. Not so this extraordinary pianistic wizard. In the athletic stakes, he could hold his own against any comers but his instantly recognisable keyboard style marks his offerings instantly and memorably. Is there a pianist alive who could so effectively mine Chopin’s Etude in C sharp minor from opus 10 for its savage grandeur as does Horowitz? Or bring to Danse Russe from Stravinsky’s Petrouchka such sizzling energy and accuracy at top speed?

Horowitz is not often thought of in relation to the music of Debussy or Poulenc. But when he turned his attentions to these French masters, the results could be extraordinary. Listen to the exceptional clarity and control of arpeggionated figures – and subtle pianissimo shadings – in Debussy’s ferociously tricky Etude XI. Listen to Poulenc’s Pastourelle as it caresses the ear ­ as well as Poulenc’s Toccata. In Horowitz’s hands, it flashes into fantastically energetic and nimble life, as does Rachmaninov’s arrangement of Rimsky Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumble Bee.

Oceans of ink have been spilled extolling the merits of Horowitz’s 1932 recording of Liszt’s Sonata in B minor. Here, words seem superfluous in this landmark performance in which music so eloquently picks up the thread that language drops.

TANGO SONG and DANCE Brahms, Franck, Faure, Kreisler, Gershwin, Previn

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Anne-Sophie Mutter (violin)
Andre Previn (piano) Lambert Orkis (piano)

DG 471 500-2
TPT 1:16:13

reviewed by Neville Cohn 

I found my review copy of this CD in my letter box when I returned home late at night after a long and tiring day. I thought I’d listen to it for a few minutes before turning in. Suffice it to say that it was around 3 am before I called it a night after listening to this enchanting recording three times in succession. This is one of the finest CDs I’ve listened to this year, playing by three musicians who seem to draw from a shared reservoir of inspiration. I cannot readily recall more satisfying playing from Anne Sophie Mutter (violin) and Andre Previn (piano). In the latter’s Tango Song and Dance, they scale Olympus with a nonchalance of mastery that is breathtaking.

Sensuous of mood and sumptuous of tone, there’s a ‘come hither’ quality about both score and interpretation that’s as irresistible as a siren’s call. Song, in particular, makes for wonderfully satisfying listening, ardent music, ardent playing that insinuate themselves in the deepest recesses of the consciousness. There’s wizardry in the meticulous skill with which Mutter addresses fluttering arabesques here. And, in Dance, there’s bracing assertiveness and astonishingly nimble treatment of the violin line, with note streams informed by a most pleasingly grainy tone quality. Previn does wonders, too, at the keyboard, the playing informed by a whispered, phantom boogie-woogie quality. Throughout, the unanimity of attack they bring to even the most subtle of nuances is extraordinary. If Previn’s Tango Song and Dance does not find a place in the standard repertoire, I would very much like to know why.

The word ‘superb’, with its connotations of exalted excellence, is, in the nature of things, rarely employed by critics. But in a medley of songs from Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (in a transcription for violin and piano by Jascha Heifetz), it seems barely adequate to describe the all-embracing finesse of their ensemble playing. Here, Mutter and Previn scale Olympus.

Mutter is hardly less persuasive in ensemble with pianist Lambert Orkis in a bracket of Hungarian Dance by Brahms and a Kreisler group ­ Schon Rosmarin, Caprice viennois No 2 and Liebesleid.

Schon Rosmarin is given memorable treatment; Mutter’s double stopping is here magical – and she mines the Caprice for every last ounce of Viennese nuance.

Franck’s Sonata No 1 in A is one of his most deeply probing scores and Mutter and Orkis respond to it with an answering depth of feeling. At its most extrovert, there is a soaring, passionate quality to the playing that makes this 25 minutes of listening bliss.

The sound engineers have done a first rate job. Highly recommended.


Mahler – Symphony No 4 (chamber version)

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and Song of a Wayfarer (chamber version)

Clare Gormley (soprano)
Jeffrey Black (baritone)
Sydney Soloists conducted by John Harding

ABC Classics 461 827-2
TPT 1: 09: 36

reviewed by Neville Cohn 

Here’s something for those interested in music off the beaten track ­ or, more precisely, music well established in the repertoire but here available in rarely encountered guises.

Mahler’s Symphony No 4 is played in Erwin Stein’s 1921 version for chamber ensemble. On the face of it, reducing Mahler’s large-scale orchestral requirements to a mere handful of musicians would seem a recipe for disaster. I’m happy to report that not only does it work but it works very well. In fact, so skilful and persuasive is the reduction that , after only moments into the work to allow the ear to adjust, it becomes clear that Mahler’s musical ideas are so resilient that ­ like so much of the music of Bach ­ they retain their power to hold the attention even if expressed through a medium different to that envisaged by the composer. Certainly, it’s an arrangement that falls pleasingly on the ear; there is nothing here that jars apart from an episode some 16 minutes into the third movement which descends into cheapness.

It is, however, not only the cleverness of the arrangement that impresses but also the marked skill on the part of the thirteen instrumentalists who play in a consistently meaningful way.

A great deal of the success of this recorded performance derives from the uncommon musicality and musicianship that a small ensemble brings to the work, notably in the second movement where Francesco Celata (clarinet), Diana Doherty (oboe) and violins draw from a deep well of expressiveness.

Soprano Clare Gormley, whether by design or consciously, brings to her important contribution to the 4th movement, a tentative, tremulous quality that sounded entirely appropriate for evoking the innocent wonder of a child describing the delights of a gingerbread vision of paradise. Certainly, Ms Gormley’s contribution was altogether in keeping with Mahler’s requirement that the soprano sing in a “childishly joyous way but without even a hint of parody”,

But the chief joy of this recording is Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (Songs of a Wayfarer) with a consistently on-form Jeffrey Black mining the words for every subtle emotional nuance, especially in Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht (When my darling has her wedding day). Here, Black’s singing is pregnant with meaning; it comes across as the apotheosis of sadness.
And the darkly dramatic, suicide-threatening mood of Ich hab’ ein gluhend Messer (I have a Red Hot Knife) is wonderfully expressed as is the profound melancholy that informs the concluding song.

I particularly admired the skill that none other than Arnold Schoenberg brought to his 1920 arrangement of the work. There is consistently exquisite playing by the accompanying instrumental ensemble.


Robert Levin (fortepiano) and friends

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Piano Concerto No 4 (Beethoven)
Symphony No 2 (Beethoven)

Archiv 474224-2
TPT 1: 07: 29

reviewed by Neville Cohn 

Here’s something for the collector of musical curiosities: Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No 4 in G in a version for fortepiano and string quintet as well as the same composer’s Symphony No 2 in an arrangement for fortepiano, violin and cello with Robert Levin at the keyboard. All the string players are members of the Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique.

Levin does wonders with the scores. In the concerto, astoundingly nimble fingerwork, a superbly spun trill and a commanding address that sweeps all before it, result in playing that is utterly persuasive. This is a rare opportunity to hear Beethoven’s Concerto No 4 in a chamber version that had the Master’s stamp of approval. Beethoven himself made more than eighty changes to the piano part in the outer movements alone (in the process making an already difficult keyboard part even more demanding on the soloist) and entrusted a friend with the task of reworking the orchestral part of the concerto for string quintet..

Much of the first movement is couched in powerfully dramatic terms and Levin and friends do wonders in unbottling its passionate genie. The slow movement is a compendium of marvels, with the keyboard’s gentle, arpeggionated responses to the assertive gruffness of the accompanying strings beautifully considered. This is wonderfully introspective playing ­ until the moment when Levin commences the movement’s extended trill which comes across with all the urgency and intensity of a blaring klaxon.

For all those who delight in the insouciant, peekaboo quality of the finale, this recording will not disappoint. As well, there is a cadenza on an heroic scale. Strings sound close-miked; there’s a rasping, grainy quality as bows bite strings. It makes for bracing listening.

The purists may well wax apopletic at the notion of Beethoven’s
2nd Symphony being played in a version for piano, violin and cello. But this, in fact, is an arrangement prepared by the composer himself. The first movement bristles with energy and drive thnat make for frankly thrilling listening. And in the scherzo, sforzandi are attacked with a relish that sweeps all before it.

Levin’s astonishing technical prowess is well to the fore here with virtuosic treatment of rapid repeated notes. And he’s a key player in evoking the robust, back-slapping humour of the writing.

The recordings were made in London’s Henry Wood Hall.


SAFFIRE

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The Australian Guitar Quartet
Granados, Koch, Pujol, Maxwell Davies, Houghton, Myers, Charlton

ABC Classics 476 701-2
TPT 1:04:06

reviewed by Neville Cohn 

Although some of the selections on this CD are rather thin musically, they are presented with care and skill – and not a little virtuosity – and the sound engineers have done a splendid job of realistically capturing the combined sound of the four classical guitars of Slava Grigoryan, Antony Field, Gareth Koch and Karin Schaupp.

Of a remarkably eclectic compilation, it is Stanley Myers’ instantly recognisable Cavatina from The Deer Hunter that fares best, its haunting, bittersweet measures beautifully presented. And Peter Maxwell Davies’ Farewell to Stromness, with its Scotch snap and minor mode that sounds rather like music for a melancholy folk dance, falls pleasantly on the ear.

Much of Pujol’s Grises y Soles is music of a very different world with its lively rhythms and darting, busy note streams, inspired by the energetic bustle of Buenos Aires and separated by dreamy, rather introverted episodes descriptive of the city’s many public parks. In Saffire’s hands, it flashes into virtuosic life.

Granados is represented by arrangements of three of the Danzas Espanolas. Villanesca (No 4) fares best; its charming measures presented with a simplicity of expression that it sounds entirely appropriate. Zambra, cast in flamenco mould, is less persuasive; semiquavers do not always flow smoothly but elsewhere there are sensitively handled rubati.

There’s a world premiere recording: Richard Charlton’s Stoneworks. As new repertoire for an ensemble of four guitars is still very small, Stoneworks will be listened to with more than usual interest by musicians hoping to expand their repertoires.
Precise ensemble runs through the presentation like a silver thread. Stones of Light is music of amiable charm if not especially memorable. Stones of Desire is described in the liner notes as music suggesting envy and desire but despite the most diligent listening on a number of occasions ­ and noting the beauty of phrase-shaping and quality of corporate tone – I could not, in all frankness, detect anything in the work reminiscent of either desire or envy. I liked Standing Stones, introduced as a shimmering stream of sound but, again, hardly evocative of the “ancient mystery” the liner notes allude to. And Stones of Power, described as dealing “with the power that stone has given man ­ the great monuments, temples, gods..hewn from marble and granite”, raised expectations of craggy grandeur that failed to materialise.

Opals, another mediation on stones but of a significantly smaller sort, made for rather more satisfying listening. Black Opal is a delight with notes clothed in glowing tone, a miniature that fleetingly reminds one of Scarborough Fair. I particularly liked Water Opal, a gently introverted piece that gives way toWhite Opal, the intricate lines of which are informed by excellent levels of ensemble and clarity. And a good deal of spirit and beguiling corporate tone is brought to Gareth Koch’s Rumba Flamenca.

Copyright 2003 Neville Cohn