Recording Review #57: Pollini Pair

Schubert: Piano Sonata in G, D. 894; Moments musicaux, D. 780; Fantasia in F Minor for Piano Duet, D. 940. Maurizio and Daniele Pollini, pianists. Deutsche Grammophon 486 639-8. 

The strangest concert I ever attended was also the saddest. It must have been in 2007 or so, while I was in graduate school at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Byron Janis was one of the Krannert Center for the Performing Arts' top season billings. I had known that the 70-something pianist long since developed psoriatic arthritis, but I was nonetheless eager to hear such a legendary figure perform live. To be honest, I don't even remember which pieces he played. Nothing sticks in my recollection except what actually happened when he got onstage. The poor man looked like he could barely move his neck, shoulders, wrists, and fingers. His impairments were clear for everyone to see. Everything he played was severely affected to the point where nothing came close to sounding like it should have; even the least musically literate audience members could easily tell this. Moreover, it wasn't a traditional concert so much as a running commentary. He would attempt to play each short selection while verbally regaling the audience (in a shaky voice) with anecdotes about when he performed it as a healthy artist in his halcyon days. Often he talked as he played, or paused to somehow illustrate a passage mid-stream. Nobody who attended this "concert" seemed to mind missing a genuine listening experience next to feeling pity for the fellow. 

True, nothing comparably unfortunate characterizes this last studio recording by the late Maurizio Pollini. But as I listened to the Schubert G-Major Sonata here I somehow kept remembering that Janis concert. We're missing the Pollini of old, whose incomparable tone, technique, and control won him a place among the greats. Instead we have dynamic imbalances, under- and over-played notes, and slightly shaky pedaling. Still, I wouldn't call it bad. There are also flashes of the former brilliance. A certain autumnal quality goes hand-in-hand with an intact musical sense. But compared to his magnificent Schubert recordings of yore (I absolutely adore DG 471 356-2), this D. 894 is in a decidedly lower category. And yet I wouldn't want to be without it. Maurizio Pollini has been one of my favorite pianists since I first discovered classical music. I cut my teeth on his revered Chopin Etudes, one of the first discs I ever bought (DG 413 794-2). My feelings are bittersweet.  

But now we come to the Moments musicaux, which are not played by Maurizio but rather by his son Daniele. It's clear that the younger man espouses a more outwardly emotional pianism than that of his distinguished father. Luckily he also seems to inherit some of the latter's sensitivity. These are fine performances, with lovely tone and accentuations of inner voices. I don't know how high they'll soar in the affections of listeners, given such steep competition in the catalogue. But Daniele is a fine pianist in his own right, and his take on these pieces deserves to be heard. He merits consideration beyond being the son of a musical titan. 

Son and father (in that order) of course join up at the end for the famous four-hand Fantasy. I was ready to call it wonderful until the finale. The sounds of these two pianists merge well. Maurizio wisely relegates himself to the secondo part. But the pair take the quick closing section too quickly. The sharpness of the earlier portions recedes as they blur some details and occasionally lose "togetherness." It would have been a tall order for them to match the exalted 1984 performance by Murray Perahia and Radu Lupu (Sony SK 39511), particularly with a post-80 Maurizio. But it's nonetheless unfortunate that a solid outing became less so at the end. Overall we have a performance with special moments, and certainly special symbolism in one generation giving way to another. But it's a qualified success all the same. And that's really where we are with the entire release. 

Verdict: Wistfully Recommended

Recording Review #56: Sturdy Sibelius

Sibelius: Violin Concerto; Smaller Works for Violin and Orchestra. James Ehnes, violinist; Edward Gardner, conductor; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHSA5267. 

Now this is what I'm talking about! Musicians who don't resort to weird stuff in order to turn heads. Interpretations that aren't intended first and foremost to tickle elite funny bones. Just extremely solid, lusty performances I can recommend to anyone, especially to those who are hearing it all for the first time. James Ehnes, Edward Gardner, and the Bergen Philharmonic deliver again in this splendid release of Sibelius's works for violin and orchestra. It's the latest winner in a steady series of wins for these artists. Long may it all continue!

I'm serious. This is one of the better Sibelius Violin Concerto performances you'll hear. It's not one of the deepest, nor is it extreme (for good or ill) in any other way. But's it's wonderfully energetic, effectively conveying this masterpiece's passion and atmosphere. Ehnes has a bold tone color that glows even during the calmer moments, and Gardner and the BPO move things along without rushing or ruining the points where the violinist must linger a bit. If the finale lacks a certain smooth lightness in some of the virtuosic passages, the performers' gusto in the whole movement soundly makes up for this. It's refreshing to hear such arresting forthrightness in a work that has invited too much eccentricity. 

What's sometimes missed in all of the critical gushing over Sibelius's longer forms is how adept he was at creating highly distinctive moods. Some of the most immersive of these are to be found in his shorter pieces for violin and orchestra, which are easy to overlook. Ehnes and Company admirably resist making them afterthoughts or mere disc-fillers. Rather, they treat them with the same seriousness of purpose that they do the Concerto. To be blunt, you won't hear better performances than the ones here. They are absolutely sumptuous. (Op. 77, No. 1 is particularly lovely!) 

One small curiosity is present, though. The brief pieces entitled Suite for Violin and Orchestra, composed in 1929, are among Sibelius's very last substantial music. Along with other late sets of miniatures, they appeared at the suggestion of his publisher Carl Fischer. While the composer had at at one time designated them as his Op. 117, his final opus list from the early 1950s shows no work carrying this opus number, stopping instead at 116. I have not read Chandos's liner notes to see why the set is listed on this recording as Op. 117 (instead of the opus-less marking of JS 185), but I thought it all worth noting here. (For a fuller treatment of this matter, see Andrew Barnett, Sibelius, Yale University Press, 2007, pp. 330-331.)

Regardless, one is grateful to have so many works so finely recorded. Make this recording your go-to option for the miniatures; and put it in your constellation of wonderful Sibelius Violin Concertos if there's room.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #55: Winsome Williams

Grace Williams: Orchestral Works (Four Illustrations for the Legend of Rhiannon; Castell Caernarfon; Ballads; Sea Sketches for String Orchestra). John Andrews, conductor; BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Resonus RES10349. 

In late 1939, Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote this to his student, Grace Williams, about her new Four Illustrations for the Legend of Rhiannon: "Dearest Grace, I listened in on Tuesday. All is much clearer & more direct & purposeful than it used to be. I liked the last movement best (I expect I oughtn’t to) & the slow – the others not so much – But the whole thing is certainly a great advance." If I had stopped at one listen through I might've agreed with old RVW. But I'll wager I took a few more passes than he did, and with every one this music grew on me. So much so that I'm now ready to consider it a British classic. 

The Four Illustrations musically portray episodes from the life of Rhiannon, a remarkable figure of Welsh mythology whose exploits are detailed in The Mabinogion. Williams illustrates each scene in highly idiomatic fashion. There is a definite folk inflection, with Lydian and other modal seasonings adding to the overall flavor. Earworm melodies frequently get repeated with slight variation. Harmony is often static, with emphasis on savoring rich sonorities. Lest this all doesn't sound like much, I was riveted. I have a weakness for the mythic; the Iliad and Odyssey, L. Frank Baum's Santa Claus origin story, and the Kalevala are some of my favorite reads. They fire my imagination in a way that I can almost believe (or at least wish I believed) their events actually took place in some far away age when enchantment and epic deeds were still possible. Likewise I get transfixed every time I listen to Sibelius's Kullervo, so powerfully evocative is its legendary mood. Hearing it for the first time was a revelation. I'm not prepared to argue that Grace Williams had Sibelius's overall talent. But I'll say without apology that her knack for eliciting this specific kind of feeling is comparably strong. It's evident that she deeply identified with her native Welsh heritage. Good for her!

Similar things could be said of the Ballads, even though there is no explicit program attached to them. This is a much later work (1968) that shows Williams kept her gift for legend-painting across her career. Initially I thought she must have borrowed actual folk tunes for each. But after reading Leah Broad's informative liner notes, and other materials close at hand, I found no indication of this. The melodies are apparently just that good! In addition, one frequently gets the impression of harp or lute strumming from how Williams treats her rhythms and harmonies, which is of course commensurate with the title. I'll definitely be returning to this music!

Dating from around the same time of the Ballades is Castell Caernarfon, a kind of miniature tone poem commissioned for the investiture of the Prince of Wales. It's in the same general vein as the aforementioned pieces. But here I have to be more critical. The musical materials are pleasant, even inspired. But they're stretched out too much to make this work as thoroughly compelling as the sets of miniatures. I won't say that Williams is strictly a miniaturist (she convincingly demonstrates otherwise in her symphonies and extended chamber works), but with Castell I perceive some tension between content and medium. 

However, we're back to Williams at her best with the Sea Sketches for String Orchestra. Her ability to sonically envision seascapes is nearly as good as her penchant for legendary scenes. These pieces each have their own titles: High Wind; Sailing South; Channel Sirens; Breakers; and Calm Sea in Summer. All are easy on the ear, and some have splendid tunes in them (I'm thinking particularly of the first and last numbers). Here as elsewhere you can hear the influence of her famous teacher, as well as that of other greats. But Williams is also very much her own composer. On the strength of the selections rendered here, it's a creative voice that deserves to be heard in the concert hall with much more regularity. 

John Andrews and the BBC Philharmonic provide splendid performances. It's clear even without knowing other recordings of this music that their sound and sensitivity are a good match for it. Their disc will appear in my "Finds of the Year" list, which I plan to write up in late December. It provides an abundantly rewarding listening experience. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #54: Laid-Back Levit

Brahms: Piano Concertos Nos. 1-2; Piano Pieces Opp. 116-119. Igor Levit, pianist; Christian Thielemann, conductor; Vienna Philharmonic. Sony 19658897652.

In light of my last write-up it's somewhat ironic that I'm now considering Igor Levit's latest work. Although I neglected to mention it in Recording Review #53, I consider his Hammerklavier Sonata (on Sony Classical 8883703872) to be the best I've heard during the past decade and change. Unfortunately I can't say the same for his new Brahms outing here. I find such a juxtaposition typical of my Levit experience: clear brilliance in everything he plays, but somehow hit-and-miss when it comes to preferring his interpretations or not. 

I have two big problems with this release. I'll get the simplest one out of the way first: the sound is poor. Both the orchestra and solo piano come off slightly muffled, as if someone threw a thin sheet of cloth over the recording microphone. Details sometimes blur, and masses of orchestral sound can seem to smudge. I found that this condition especially fails to accentuate Levit's sensitivity in the quieter/calmer parts, which is his best asset in this music. 

That leads to my second and rather bigger problem: these interpretations lack passion. The Piano Concertos in particular are virile works needing ample fortitude in addition to warmth. Levit, Thielemann, and the VP meekly finesse their way through them. While the finale of Op. 83 does call for a certain breeze (especially coming after the heavy opening movements), I've never heard a more docile performance than this one. For another example, those imperious trills in the opening movement of Op. 15 sound too limp in Levit's hands. Sometimes he doesn't even play them clearly enough. 

After I listened to the Concertos I thought, "okay...maybe this is partially a Thielemann problem (it wouldn't be the first time in this repertoire! – DG 477 9882), and the solo piano pieces will be better." Yes and no. The sound quality continues to be an issue, all the more in those poetic passages that Levit plays so well (i.e. in Op. 116/4, Op. 117/1, Op. 118/2, or Op. 119/1). But once again we need more than first-rate tenderness. When things are supposed to get exciting and tempestuous, Levit unaccountably holds back. Perhaps this shortcoming is most noticeable in the Op. 118 set. Rarely does one hear the intense resolve of No. 6 sound so enervating instead. Even more illustrative is No. 3, the middle section of which Levit plays as gorgeously as anyone...only to provide Allegro energico book-ends that are decidedly lacking in the energico department. 

I very much like Levit in other settings and wanted to recommend this recording. But apart from portions of the solo pieces, I just can't. You're better off opting for the numerous pianists who do all aspects of this music well rather than just some (and who are supported by recording sound that doesn't hamstring them). If you want a good starting place, try Gilels, Lupu, Katchen, or Kovacevich. There are just too many big fish in this sea. 

Verdict: Collectors Only

Update

I'm busier than normal this week because of increased demands from my two day jobs. But I plan to resume my usual rate of production here starting this coming weekend. 

Thank you for reading The Ross Review!

Recording Review #53: A Herculean Hammerklavier

 

Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-Flat, Op. 106 "Hammerklavier"; Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 3, No. 2. Marc-André Hamelin, pianist. Hyperion CDA68456. 

Beethoven's Hammerklavier Sonata is so big and multi-faceted that most recordings of it seem only to excel in a small number of aspects, if they excel in any. I could count almost on one hand the performances I feel are consistently superlative. I say so partially to mollify my opinion here that this latest release from Marc-André Hamelin isn't among them. It's one thing to be able to bring off such a notoriously difficult piece at all; it's quite another to do it in distinguished fashion. Good Hammerklaviers are relatively plentiful; great ones remain uncommon. 

Actually Hamelin's really is a good one, with much to commend it. Best of all is the strength and technique he brings. I know, I know...his reputation for technical supremacy is low-hanging critical fruit by now. But the more Hammerklaviers I've listened to, the more I've noticed when even just a little bit is lacking in the virtuosity department. There are many SLOW and RICKETY Hammerklaviers. (Not all of them stretch back to the early recording era!) This is music that really needs some muscle, particularly in the first movement and portions of the finale. Hamelin has muscle to spare; his Hammerklavier is anything but rickety. 

Next, there needs to be a delicate touch, with appropriate poetry for deeply expressive passages like these: 

1

2

3

How a pianist renders such figures is a crucial ingredient. Many blur or race through them. Others play them at appropriate tempi or softness but lack the tone colors necessary for special interpretations. I have to say that Hamelin falls into the second category. He supplies the requisite sensitivity, with nice piano and sotto voce abilities. These have carried him splendidly through a great deal of repertoire, especially the neglected varieties that he has made a well-deserved name recording. But the Hammerklavier might be the most unforgiving solo piano challenge of all; it repeatedly shows who has (and doesn't have) what. To my ear Hamelin pays for his superhuman technique with limitations in tone color. Again, in most of the music he performs this is not a serious deficit. However with the Hammerklavier all I can do is admire some areas of his playing while wishing his sound were more magical in certain places. 

This practically defines the slow movement. But here I'm going to give Hamelin compensatory credit for moving things along in a way that the listener can well apprehend the structure. Too many pianists languish in this part, which can get gelatinous in a hurry. It's a great test of imagination, but it's also a test of not letting the interpretation run away with itself. Thankfully, Hamelin charts a well-conceived path through this forest. 

What can you say about the fugal finale that hasn't been said so many times before? It's a brutal challenge in almost every way. First and foremost it's a test of control – finger control, line control, dynamic control, expressive control, etc. What's amazing is how many pianists I would consider to be great in other contexts make a mess out of this grand closer. Rest assured, Hamelin is not one them. He convincingly wins every single control battle. But something extra is lacking. He dispatches fearsome technical and contrapuntal difficulties only to somehow make them sound anticlimactic. He exercises such expressive control that I'm missing the expression; there's not much of an animating spark. After a Hammerklavier that could be called "Herculean," I'm in the (ungrateful?) position of wishing it were somehow more. Not a comfortable feeling. 

I'll end on a mostly positive note. I absolutely LOVE the Op. 3/2 C-Major Sonata pairing! (You can witness my high regard for this sonata in my rankings of all 32 Beethoven works in the genre, here.) It directly recalls the appearance of the two sonatas together in Sviatoslav Richter's UK recital releases. This sonata is mainly bright and joyous music, with an adagio slow movement that I consider to be the equal (or more) of the famous Moonlight Sonata opener. Hamelin's performance is maybe a tad on the heavy side, but he plays with suitable spirit throughout. 

A solid offering, all in all. Beginners coming to these sonatas for the first time through this recording are going to be decently served. I predict that seasoned listeners probably won't make it their new favorite for either piece, but Hamelin is a popular figure who elicits a great deal of goodwill from classical music fans. So who knows? 

Verdict: Recommended

Recording Review #52: Beautified Beethoven

Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 2 & 3 "Eroica" (Complete Symphonies Vol. 2). Kristiina Poska, conductor; Flanders Symphony Orchestra. Fuga Libera FUG830. 

A search for "Beethoven Symphony No. 3" on Presto Music's website yields 3,862 results. True, a search for No. 2 turns up less than half of that. But Poska's Beethoven Second with the FSO here is much less a problem for me than their Eroica. Actually, the latter half of this Eroica is okay; it's the first half, and especially the first movement, to which I object. While listening to it I felt eager to jump to any of those other 3,861 recordings and more. Anything to make this manicured misfire stop. 

Because the character is off. Way off. Poska files down the sharp edges, rounds the corners, and dresses the whole front half of the symphony up in a pretty bow tie. Beethoven positively peppers his big opening gambit with sforzandos, surging builds, and jarring chords. You wouldn't know it by this performance. It is so genteel that I almost thought I was listening to Boccherini's famous minuet instead (they're both in triple meter). I didn't feel Beethoven's existential crisis that kicked off his Second Creative Period, nor any epic struggle, nor Napoleonic heroics, nor even much passion. I felt a lot more like going out and asking some billionaire's butler if he has any Grey Poupon. A proper Eroica gives off a lot more force, and an almost manic sense of urgency. This one, at least its beginning, sounds emasculated. 

While the second movement is better, I'm still missing most of what makes this funeral march so powerful. Poska and Co. get the markings in the score right, but they miss the soul. The first movement should be an exhilarating experience followed by an emotionally exhausting one. Although it's unfair of me to expect anything like the greatest performance of this movement I've ever heard (Furtwängler and the Berlin Philharmonic live in 1950, which can be found here), we definitely need more than the present conductor and orchestra give it. 

The back half of the Eroica Symphony counterbalances the first in terms of relieved dramatic intensity. This proves advantageous for Poska and her group, who get something of a reprieve there. The scherzo skips along nicely, with good sound and balance. While drama does occasionally return in the finale, I found Poska's attention to contrapuntal and dynamic details a boon to helping her do it justice. If this Eroica consisted only of movements 3 and 4, I'd recommend it as a solid if undistinguished reading. 

 

Which is what I would call the Second Symphony's performance here. Everything is done fairly well, particularly the middle movements. (Though, I'm perhaps missing just a touch of the raucous humor in the finale.) But I mean, there are SO many fine Seconds. Do you need this one? Ehh. We definitely can do better with the Eroica. Go ahead and listen to it and see if you agree with me. But even if you don't, I dare you to buy it. 

Verdict: Collectors Only

Recording Review #51: So-so Santoro

 

Claudio Santoro: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 6; Choro Concertante for Saxophone; Fantasia for Violin. Pedro Bittencourt, saxophone; Emmanuele Baldini, violinist; Neil Thomson, conductor; Goiânia Symphony Choir; Goiás Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.574572. 

Brazilian composer Claudio Santoro (1919-1989) was certainly prolific, with an extensive output that includes 14 symphonies and numerous other instrumental works. I love catalogues like these! They make me want to jump in and start exploring. I've discovered so many unlikely favorites this way. But I've also trudged through extensive stretches of "meh" (or worse) between finding those better things. If I'm honest, Claudio Santoro's music contains a whole lot of meh. And while this meh isn't the meh-iest meh I've ever encountered, I haven't yet heard a work of his that rises above unremarkable pleasantness. 

Naxos's description calls the Fourth Symphony (1953-1954) "one of his most accessible and influential works." Dedicated to 'the Soviet composers,' it certainly comes across as a gesture of goodwill, sporting an amiable festiveness that reminds me of Copland's populist masterpieces. The problem is that Santoro had nothing like Copland's melodic gift. This is noticeable straightaway in the first movement, where soft harmonies, driving rhythms, and deft orchestration form the backdrop for entirely unmemorable themes. You can tell when a composer wants to write a winning tune but can't; he/she will often start with a short motive and expand it fortspinnung-style into a much longer (usually angular) sequence. But this can't possibly stand in for a lack of melodic intuition, and so the ear (or my ear) settled on those other elements after a while. Unfortunately, this was already starting to get boring by the end of a relatively short opening movement. The second movement is better, with some really lovely moments of lush expansiveness. This more effectively covers for a lingering melodic deficiency. The finale is punchy and lively, with the choir briefly coming in at the end (right when the mind is again in danger of wandering) and crying out for peace. But even moments such as these proved ephemeral, as I could later recall little beyond modest impressions. 

Like his older, more talented contemporary Igor Stravinsky, Santoro is at his best where melody matters less. This invariably amounts to places that invoke dance. Which means that the scherzo of the Sixth Symphony (1957-1958) is easily the most engaging portion of that work. True, the brief motives used with infectious ostinato rhythms would be ordinary by themselves. But they do work well in this setting, more convincingly unburdened by their surroundings here than elsewhere. (If any music by Santoro is a candidate for transcending meh, it's his dance suites. I particularly enjoy those for piano.) 

I have little to say about the concertante and fantasia works. They don't carry the same expectations that the symphonies do, but they're similarly enjoyable on a surface level without being more. The performers deserve high praise, though. Bittencourt and Baldini do wonderful work with middling material. Neil Thomson leads orchestral musicians and choristers who perform with fetching sharpness. This music at least deserves to be recorded, and I'm glad these folks were the ones to do so here. 

Verdict: Mildly Recommended