Schumann’s Piano Concerto is a Romantic warhorse (albeit a very charming one) but Dvořák’s is largely unknown, despite being championed by Firkušný and Richter (accompanied by Kleiber) who restored the original version. Will advocacy by a pianist of Hough’s eminence convince people it’s a neglected masterpiece? Don’t expect any sublime ascents into the sunlit uplands or exhilarating ‘travelling tune’ allegros in the symphonies. Much of the Concerto falls between two stools: Hough has written about the “fiendish difficulty” of the solo part, although you’d never think so from his blend of heroic power, insight and finesse. There’s little overt bravura or man versus piano writing. The slow movement has moments of blissful repose but it’s only in the Finale that we recognise Dvořák’s hallmark earthy energy. It’s not first-rate Dvořák, but it’s interesting and worth the price of the CD. The Schumann is an almost complete contrast: highly pianistic writing and a lyrical meshing between soloist and orchestra. There are many felicities in Hough’s reading, from the first movement’s ruminative passages (where I greatly prefer Hough to the more youthful impetuosity of the recently released Lisiecki) to the… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already…

An all too rare piano recital packed with intellectual insight as much as technical thrill and adventure.

Scriabin’s wife Tatiana wrote in a 1907 letter that his Piano Sonata No 5 was “extraordinary”. The same can be said of Stephen Hough’s rendition in new release Scriabin & Janácˇek: Sonatas & Poems. Hough opens the album with this musical concoction of chaos and bliss, exhibiting power through his overtly expressive and dynamic performance, before progressing to Janácˇek’s cycle On the Overgrown Path. Though a comparatively delicate work, Hough’s presence isn’t diminished. His performance of A Blown-away Leaf (Book 1, No 2) is a sentimental caress, later offset by a startlingly intense The Frydek Madonna (Book 1, No 4). Scriabin soon returns with a jolt in his Deux Poèmes, Op. 32 – a musical contrast in fine taste which is felt throughout the release as the two composers’ works are interwoven. In fact the differences between Scriabin and Janácˇek grow fainter as the album progresses, with Hough’s musical approach and impeccable performance creating a sense of unity between them. Janácˇek’s Piano Sonata 1.X.1905 is a highlight and, well placed in the latter part of the album, it reveals Hough’s brooding dramaticism, preparing him for a final joyous release… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a…

It’s always a coup when two internationally renowned soloists come together to play chamber music.

Stephen Hough performs an outstanding piano concerto to conclude the TSO’s Beethoven Celebration. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Lately Stephen Hough has become more interested in compiling themed programs from various sources than producing single-composer discs. Fortunately his standing as a musician allows him to do so, and the results are always illuminating and satisfying. This new recital of nocturnally inclined works proves no exception. While French pieces are left out altogether (such as perhaps Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit or Fauré’s Nocturnes), what is here is well chosen. Schumann provides the major part of the program, which opens with In der Nacht from his Fantasiestücke Op. 12. This turbulent nightscape is perfectly rendered. As ever, Hough’s technical assurance allows him to focus on conveying the meaning of the music, both in its pictorial aspect (a stormy night wind over the ocean) and concomitant emotional state. Both go hand in hand so closely in Schumann. Balancing this piece is the suite Carnaval, where Schumann presents a series of character studies as though seen at a masked ball (which would take place at night, of course). The 21 fleeting studies cover a variety of moods, but the overall impression is one of unbridled passion. Markings such as Vivo, Passionato, Anime and Presto abound. The challenges are many: specific character has…

Two 'Cinderella' pieces, but which deserves to wear the glass slipper?

The eclectic pianist talks about career choices, Aussie citizenship and the compulsion to compose.

These new performances are utterly compelling and deserve the widest possible audience.

Inside the brilliant but often misunderstood Jacqueline du Pré; plus pianists Willems, Hough and Hewitt and our Aussie Festivals Guide. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

>Following the success of his English and Spanish albums, Stephen Hough has come up with this thoughtfully planned, beautifully executed French album. Typically for Hough, the repertoire is anything but predictable. It opens with the familiar strains of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. The Gallic connection lies in the transcription by the pianist Alfred Cortot, who was actually Swiss. Hough himself is a transcriber of note (or notes) and so we have his keyboard arrangements of Pizzicati from Delibes’ ballet Sylvia and Massenet’s song Crépuscule. Among the rarely played works are the charming Automne by Cécile Chaminade and Alkan’s quirky La chanson de la folle au bord de la mer. Two popular encores are included: Ravel’s Alborada del gracioso and Debussy’s Clair de lune, the latter sounding not at all hackneyed due to the surrounding context. There are multiple selections by Fauré and Poulenc, and the recital ends with a longer work, Liszt’s Réminiscences of Halévy’s opera La Juive. Hough invariably hones in on the specific quality that defines each piece. In the Ravel, it is humour, an aspect that pianists often neglect in their desire to remind us how difficult this music is to… Continue reading Get…

Our critics choose the discs any self-respecting pianophile simply must own.