Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has arranged his cycle of Beethoven piano sonatas chronologically in order of composition, meaning this final instalment encompasses the biggest of Beethoven’s hitters: the Appassionata, Hammerklavier and Opus 109, 110 and 111 included. I think it’s fair to say that Bavouzet’s approach has divided opinion. If Artur Schnabel or Emil Gilels are your go-to Beethoven pianists, then Bavouzet’s lean-and-mean textures – apparently achieved with a minimum of pedal, and fingers so transparent that they must be see-through – locate other impulses inside this music which might not appeal. Known primarily as an interpreter of Debussy and Ravel, Bavouzet views Beethoven as not just a progressive, but also a Modernist. This Beethoven is determinately non-sentimental (as already demonstrated by Bavouzet’s chilling, near-dystopian take on the Moonlight Sonata in volume 2 of his cycle) with a knack of clarifying form by emphasising moments of fracture. Bavouzet clearly follows a lineage of French Beethoven that begins with Yves Nat and hits peak chichi streamlined Modernism as Pierre-Laurent Aimard records the concertos with Harnoncourt. Except that Bavouzet remains his own man. So much to enjoy here, so much that makes me want to listen again. Perhaps perversely I began my deep dive…

Amidst the puppets and pranksters, Miriam Margolyes’ Peter promises to bring the Adelaide Symphony’s house down. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

French pianistic powerhouses Jean-Efflam Bavouzet and François-Frédéric Guy have teamed up to deliver a mega programme of works originally intended for orchestra. First premiered in 1913, all three are heard in piano form, with the shift in perspective providing new insights into the music while testing pianistic skills.  The first of Bartók’s Two Pictures sees washes of lush, whole-tone harmony and strangely winding melodies, conjuring a gorgeous, almost Debussian dream world.  The reverie is over in the second picture, Village Dance. Here, Bartók indulges in heavy harmonic dissonance and exuberant folk-like melody, delivered with full force.  The tone colour of Debussy’s Jeux comes as a soothing and gentle contrast. Bavouzet and Guy manage to make their instruments sound as colourful as Debussy’s orchestra. The opening is so delicately rendered you’re left questioning if it is indeed a piano you’re hearing. Bavouzet’s transcription is an intelligent and elegant reimagining of the original.  Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring is the best-known work on the disc, and hence its transcription is perhaps the hardest sell. Piano four hands necessarily restrains the score’s savagery and contrapuntal melodic webs. While it might not best the original, the composer’s own transcription is the perfect vehicle for this…

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“Stravinsky belongs to that group of composers whom we admire first and foremost for their intellect…  but it would be a mistake to believe that this intellectual admiration excludes emotion.” So writes pianist Jean-Efflam Bavouzet in the note to his terrific new recording featuring Stravinsky’s works for piano and orchestra and which appeals to the heart as much as the head. Bavouzet won awards last year for his recording of the Prokofiev Piano Concertos. Here, joined by a very much on-form São Paulo Symphony Orchestra under the suave, alert direction of Yan Pascal Tortelier, he again demonstrates his affinity for genuine orchestral collaboration while submitting to that lapidary yet rhythmically vital realisation of line and texture so important in Stravinsky’s music. The Concerto for Piano and Wind Instruments has never sounded more like a multi-coloured riot of tessellation across which drift occasional shadows. The following Capriccio is also pure delight, Bavouzet’s playing shot through with a sparkling lyricism that he even manages to inject into the 12-tone Movements. And if the piano in Pétrouchka is merely a member of the orchestra, Bavouzet nevertheless relishes his role in contributing to one of the tightest yet most theatrically lavish performances of this…

No other composer, in my experience, had such a warm and simple character (but a multi-faceted musical personality) as Joseph Haydn. Widely contrasting elements of Rococo delicacy and sturdiness combine with exuberance and melancholy, seriousness and wit, forcefulness and elegance. However, unlike Mozart, Haydn’s only concertos to have fared well are the two cello concertos (one discovered relatively recently) and his trumpet concerto. Neither the violin nor the keyboard concertos have entered the Haydn ‘canon’.  In the case of the keyboard concertos, it’s not for want of distinguished advocacy: In the mid ‘70s, Michelangeli (of all people ) recorded two with the Zurich Chamber Orchestra under Edmund de Stoutz and, more recently, pianists of the calibre of Andsnes and Hamelin have essayed their considerable charms, with impressive and persuasive results. Now, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has interrupted his Haydn Sonata cycle with three genuine concertos ie. the three without textural or chronological ambiguity to cast doubt on their authenticity.  Bavouzet has been around for a while but recently he’s entered the “Is there anything this guy can’t do?” stratosphere with an acclaimed Beethoven Sonata cycle, an award winning Prokofiev Concerto cycle, Debussy, and miraculous Ravel, as heard in his Sydney recital last…

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Chandos’s second collection of Beethoven Sonatas from Bavouzet contains the two Op. 27 Sonatas (the second of which is the Moonlight), the three Op. 31 Sonatas (the second of which is the Tempest), Sonatas Op. 28 (Pastoral), Op. 53 (Waldstein), and the unnamed Sonatas Op. 22, 26 and 49. Written between 1795 and 1805, they represent the composer’s middle period. The earlier works retain a classical elegance, but this disappears in the Op. 31 set. By the time of the Waldstein (and its rejected slow movement, recycled separately as the Andante Favori), the composer has decided to use the piano sonata as a platform for making some big statements. Unlike some pianists, Bavouzet recognises that a different approach, even a different touch, is required from one work to the next. The accents in Op. 22 for example are sharp and briskly classical, whereas the accents in the finale of the Moonlight Sonata and the first movement of the Tempest are fuller, more in keeping with sturm und drang. His pedaling in the first movement of the Moonlight (the trickiest aspect of that music) is perfectly judged, and he finds a tender quality in a slower than usual rendition of the Allegretto. Overall,…

Bavouzet and Noseda give us a mighty impressive overview of the Prokofiev piano concertos in this cleanly recorded set. While having all the necessary power at his disposal for big climactic moments – such as the monumental cadenza in the Second Concerto – overall, Bavouzet concentrates on the poetry and capriciousness of Prokofiev’s writing. The young composer, in Bavouzet’s hands, sounds more enfant than terrible. The Frenchman’s light-fingered fleetness pays dividends in the First and Third Concertos, but it is in Nos Four and Five where he is truly revelatory. Previously in complete sets of these works I have had the feeling that the Fourth (for left hand only) was not terribly familiar to the musicians and that they performed it rarely in concert. In his booklet note, Bavouzet relates how he studied the piece closely at a time when his right hand was giving him trouble. (Fortunately for him – and for us – he made a full recovery.) His familiarity shows in the way he shapes musical phrases, bringing colour to a work that is sometimes regarded as grey and unmemorable. His pace is an asset in the quirky Fifth Concerto. Bavouzet shines in places where you… Continue…

Given that Haydn left few instructions concerning the interpretation of his sonatas, Bavouzet notes that the performer “must, even more than usual, create his own world, his own logic, left only to hope that … he will not distance himself too far from the composer’s intentions”. Bavouzet relishes this challenge of bringing Haydn’s sonatas to life. In the latest instalment of his cycle he takes two early and four later sonatas and works his own musical magic with them. Of particular concern are the issues of ornamentation and repeats. Repeats are ornamented with imagination and elegance and in certain cases codas are ‘saved’ for the final repeat. These performances are admirable in their attention to detail and are delivered with a technical fluency that is always at the service of the music. The insightful annotations reveal Bavouzet’s fascination with these delightful works and his sense of artistic freedom. In the A major sonata (Hob XVI: 12) he was intrigued by the chromatic, minor mode Trio of the Menuet. As a thoughtful epilogue, he plays it at a much slower speed than would be possible ‘in situ’. Bavouzet’s use of a Yamaha piano with its clear, bright treble is one point…