S Bach composed his French Suites (or at least the first five) in 1722 for his second wife, Anna Magdalena, who used them for teaching. (They are in her “notebook”). These dance suites, showing all the composer’s contrapuntal skill, are less outgoing than the English Suites and Partitas, suggesting they were designed solely for domestic use and may in fact have been intended for the clavichord. Vladimir Ashkenazy, on this new recording, plays a concert grand. “I use few ornaments and don’t think of the sound of the harpsichord,” he writes. “What I try to do is play on what we have today, and make the combination of voices as clear as possible.” That he does, and produces some warm-toned pianism into the bargain. The Sarabandes, in particular those from Suites Nos 1 and 5, are sensitively caressed; the Gigue from Suite No 3 teeters excitingly on the edge. Ashkenazy turned 80 in July of this year, and has retired from public piano concertising due to arthritis, but this is barely hinted at in these 2016 recordings. The Courante from Suite No 5 would probably have been more fluent earlier in his career, but overall there is… Continue reading Get…

The second release in Andrew Manze’s complete traversal of Vaughan Williams’ symphonies, is as impressive as its predecessor. Despite the name “Pastoral”, the Third was a wartime symphony. Parts were written while Vaughan Williams was stationed at Écoivres during World War I, and its elegaic, melancholy mood is directly related to that experience. Manze’s recording embraces a post-war reading of the work in one very specific way: he employs a tenor for the wordless vocalise in the final movement, rather than a soprano. The ghostly sound of a man’s voice produces an almost tangible link to the unknown soldier that came to represent the casualties of the Great War. And how deeply contemplative is Manze’s pacing of the magical orchestral passage following the tenor’s appearance? The Fourth, composed between 1931 and 1934, seems with its harsh harmonic clashes to represent the threat of war once more, but the composer indicated that his point was purely musical. This was his first symphony to follow a traditional, recognisably symphonic form, namely that of Beethoven’s Fifth. Manze treats it that way. His urgency and clarity point out the symphony’s structural coherence, helped by a fresh and open sound. Manze reveals… Continue reading Get…

An imaginative programme, and the premiere of a significant vocal work.

Carl Czerny was a piano student of Beethoven, and played his teacher’s sonatas as they appeared. As a composer he was responsible for many pieces designed to address specific aspects of piano technique. In time, Czerny taught Liszt and possibly influenced his writing; hence the CD title, Master & Pupil. Melvyn Tan first came to prominence as a proponent of the fortepiano, recording the Beethoven concertos on that instrument in the early 1990s with period-style conductor Roger Norrington. Here Tan plays a modern Steinway, but his classical sensibility remains in terms of polish over profundity. Having said that, he employs appropriately Romantic rubato in both the Beethoven Sonata No 30 and Liszt’s B Minor Sonata, and his overview of those two masterpieces contains much lovely playing, while always remaining in scale. In the Liszt we are probably used to more sheer heft, but Tan’s subtle detail proves engrossing. Beethoven’s Six Bagatelles (his final piano composition) benefit from the simplicity of Tan’s approach; he does not push them out of shape by being over-emotive. To my mind, the pianist is most impressive in the Czerny works: the Variations on a Theme by Rode, and the Funeral March… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Fierce fiddling, and a lovely neo-romantic blend.

DG continues to releases live recordings of Grigory Sokolov. His mastery is unquestionable but he is famously enigmatic. He refuses all interviews, will not record in a studio, and as of 2005 stopped performing with orchestras. The Mozart concerto comes from January of that year. Was it the straw that broke the pianist’s back? The legend of the reclusive artist is rejected by many but not by DG, who enclose a documentary entitled Grigory Sokolov: A Conversation That Never Was. In it, friends and colleagues praise Sokolov extravagantly, although he himself is absent. One viewing suffices. Despite Pinnock at the helm, the Mozart is given an old-school reading. Poetry abounds in the first movement, while the Adagio builds to a climax of cinematic proportions. Sokolov expends more energy in the finale than other pianists do in Brahms. He is more suited to the Rachmaninov, where his innate mastery of the music’s ebb and flow is on the highest level. As in his solo recitals he is fond of extremes. He thunders through the cadenza of the first movement (a passage where I feel less is usually more), but the section immediately following is beautifully delicate. As a live recording (from…

The most famous classical pianist of the early 20th century performs with expression and deep understanding in these restored recordings.

Individual, instrumental brilliance balanced by a group cohesiveness and single-mindedness.

This programme is built around around two substantial Fantasias for piano: the Mozart in C Minor K475, composed in 1785, and the early Fantasie in C by Schumann, written in 1836. Although only 50 years separate them, the two works fall distinctly into the Classical and Romantic periods of European music. They share a free form in common (in spite of the Schumann falling, sonata-like, into three movements), but their differences are fundamental. Mozart’s idea of the fantasy is to be free with keyboard decoration, and to roam through different keys and thematic ideas not dictated by a predetermined structure. Schumann’s idea of fantasy is an emotional one, ranging through those heightened states so beloved of the early Romantics, namely fiery passion and introspective melancholy. Mozart’s Piano Sonata No 14 is also in C Minor: a dark key for the composer (as for Beethoven), so there is an argument that a more Romantic approach is justified. In both works pianist Piotr Anderszewski gives us just that, to generally good effect. He is suitably stormy in the Sonata’s first movement, but I find the slow movement – for all his sensitivity – to be too introverted. He approaches… Continue reading Get…

Robertson, Clerici and the SSO deliver a cleverly planned programme, played with panache.

Unlike the lifelong artistic journey of some other pianists, that of Maurizio Pollini has remained remarkably consistent. Winning the 1960 International Chopin Competition, the young virtuoso’s approach right from the start was one of clarity, served by a technique of formidable strength and accuracy. Pollini made two recordings of Chopin for EMI, then took an extended break. In 1971 he signed with DG where he has remained to this day. Every one of his early LPs was an event, due to his phenomenal concentration and technical assurance: His Prokofiev Seventh Sonata and Stravinsky’s Three Pieces from Petrouchka, and his Chopin Études, remain gramophone classics. From then until the ultimate release in this box from 2014, he has not so much mellowed as matured. He continues to seek out a work’s structure and clarify its textures; he is revelatory in Schoenberg. The more important the music, the better. Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier (Book 1), Beethoven’s and Schubert’s late Piano Sonatas all receive this treatment. The slow movement of Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto (especially in the earlier performance under Karl Böhm) is neither personal introspection nor a lyrical serenade; it is a hymn. With Pollini you get none of the wry humour…

Music and pianos of historical interest in gutsy performances.