Recording Review #68: Mikhail's Mess

Chopin: Preludes, Op. 28; Scriabin: Preludes, Op. 11. Mikhail Pletnev, pianist. Deutsche Grammophon 486 745-5.

Often the people most corrosive to the viability of classical music are its own practitioners. Take this recording for instance. I can see little use for it beyond gratifying the performer's whims and titillating bored novelty-seekers. Certainly someone wishing to become familiar with these pieces will be poorly served. The playing is willfully mannered and the sound unnecessarily muffled, the latter thanks to a puzzling decision to use analog recording technology. Yes, there are a few fine moments. But they are islands in a sea of soupy mess. The whole thing is unworthy of a great performer like Mikhail Pletnev, even taking into account his famous variability. 

This Chopin set is the worst. The murky sound brings everything down, but eccentric interpretive decisions do the music itself a far greater disservice. In one respect this stems from a good intention: bringing out the melody. Pletnev does so VERY well, and occasionally achieves beautiful results. One example is No. 19 in E-Flat, in which the tune sings clearly while the background beautifully shimmers. That's not easy to do. But in other settings the difficulty of actually hearing everything else can become a problem. The tune is the thing (as RVW said), yes. But when subordinate voices recede so severely, as they often do in Nos. 1, 2 and 8, melodic projection becomes too much of a good thing. 

More inexcusably, Pletnev frequently just ignores score markings. This happens most in the louder and more impassioned selections/stretches. The intense No. 5 is a good example. First, we hardly reach a forte dynamic in the whole piece, nor do we really hit a Molto Allegro tempo. Then there is the weird staccato or portamento-like articulation in the bass where none is indicated. The whole thing is limp, meek, and obviously outside the character Chopin indicates. But this is just one example. The agitato moods elsewhere in the preludes (e.g. in Nos. 8, 14, 16, and 24) get replaced by a mumbly, even comatose approach. Combine this with occasionally messy peddling and excessive rubato and you have interpretations that positively pale in comparison with those by the likes of Argerich, Moravec, or Pollini. 

The Scriabin set comes off slightly better, mostly because the cloudy recording sound, combined with Pletnev's muted approach, are better withstood by their often languid character. The pianist also manages to find something of a pulse for some of the quicker ones, such as we see in his Nos. 3 and 18. (Sometimes, not always.) But while Pletnev never previously recorded Chopin's Op. 28 group, he did set down Scriabin's Op. 11 (see Erato 5452472, and the Virgin re-release) almost 3 decades ago. This latter rendition radiates strength and color to a degree that frankly indicts the present account. The one is earnest and breathtaking; the other evokes enervated cynicism. 

In sum, this has all the trappings of a vanity project. Flashes of greatness are present, as are glimpses into a keen musical personality. But when the self-indulgence is ratcheted so high, I stop caring about talent and imagination. I groan to think of the more constructive things Pletnev could have been doing instead. If you're new to these pieces, or just want to hear some good performances, pass this one over and partake of the many other fine options you have. 

Verdict: Not Recommended