Recording Review #71: Malofeev's Melodies

Forgotten Melodies. [Featuring music by Glinka, Medtner, Rachmaninoff, and Glazunov.] Alexander Malofeev, pianist. Sony 19802936922. 2 CD. 

A pianist tells us many things about himself with a debut album. Especially if that debut album is named after one of its featured works. And especially if the composer of that featured work deserves to be a canon figure but isn't quite yet. Alexander Malofeev is 24 years old, and his inaugural recording is staking a claim with the music of....Nikolai Medtner. Yes, Nikolai Medtner. Ever heard of him? This is a composer whom Richard Taruskin once called "the poor man's Rachmaninoff" (Defining Russia Musically, pg. 318). Closer to my own experience, I remember the disdain with which a fellow graduate student reacted to the Medtner works I excitedly showed him. For long the consensus seems to have been that this music is well crafted but too introverted to really make wide impact. Medtner hasn't had the easiest time. 

But it has been kept alive by serious advocates going back many decades. Richter, Gilels, and Horowitz were earlier champions. Then Geoffrey Tozer and Marc-André Hamelin recorded their superb discs for Chandos and Hyperion respectively in the 90s. Then came Evgeny Kissin with his own rendition of the Sonata Reminiscenza (a work that Malofeev tackles here). Then I was thrilled to see Medtner featured in performances at the latest Van Cliburn competition. (Here is one example.) The verdict of such distinguished company is clear: there is much that is special in this music; it merits prominence and not just survival. And like Hamelin has said, it seeps into you with repeated exposure; eventually you're aware that you love it. Even Taruskin amended his opinion later (Russian Music at Home and Abroad: New Essays, pg. 125). 

Malofeev supplies a generous helping of Medtner here – all 8 pieces in the first set of Forgotten Melodies plus the second of the Op. 48 Fairy Tales. No empty advocacy is this: Malofeev feels Medtner's alternately breezy and saturnine moods to perfection. He brings out the composer's famous (infamous?) intricacies with smooth sensitivity. One savors how he adjusts to the main theme in all of its iterations across the Melodies. It's an absolute treat to the ears, and astonishing coming from one so young. 

The selections rounding out this bountiful release complement the Medtner quite consciously, and likewise accentuate Malofeev's gifts. It's extremely nice to see Glazunov's likewise underrated piano works getting more fine exposure. A highlight is the Op. 103 Iydlle. Its mixture of sun and melancholy make it an ideal companion to the Forgotten Melodies. Malofeev dispatches it with warm delicacy. Similar things could be said for the five Glinka pieces also included, my favorite of which isn't actually the somewhat-known Lark but rather the unassuming Farewell Waltz. 

Of course the best known music is the included Rachmaninoff assortment. But even here the repertoire is chosen wisely for consistency with its album-mates. There's the big Second Sonata: Malofeev meets its fierce virtuosic demands with enviable ease. But this sonata is even more characterized by its various shades of gloom and mystery, finding striking connections with the other pieces here. It shows that there is more in common between Rachmaninoff and Medtner, and that the more famous Russian composer's adoration of his friend's music was in earnest. If anything such connections prompt new ways to view the C-Sharp Minor Prelude and included Études-Tableaux. This kind of subtle awareness is wonderful to see. 

If I have a mild reservation it is that Malofeev sometimes overplays the faster and louder portions. They're breathtaking but occasionally obscure the details slightly. I imagine that much of this is a maturity thing and will improve with age. Certainly it does nothing to mar what is a beautiful and important project. If the survival of classical music partially depends upon creative programming like this, and I believe it does, Malofeev is certainly doing his part. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

New Review at Classical Candor

 My review of the new Sony Liszt disc, featuring Leif Ove Andsnes in Via Crucis and some assorted piano works, is now up at Classical Candor: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2025/04/liszt-via-crucis-solo-piano-works-cd.html

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

Recording Review #44: Elfman Elsewhere

Danny Elfman: Wunderkammer; Percussion Concerto; Are You Lost? Colin Currie, percussionist; Joann Falletta, conductor; Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Sony Classical 19658889842. 

To get it out of the way, Danny Elfman is one of my favorite film/TV scorers. He's great at composing one-off opening tunes and contributing to rich cinematic atmospheres. When I am particularly struck by the music supporting what I'm watching onscreen, chances are fairly good it's an Elfman score. And of course, the distinctiveness of The Simpsons title theme alone would be sufficient to forever enshrine his name in American culture of the most recent fin de siècle. 

But (and you knew there was a "but"), I'm not convinced he's significantly more than this. After listening to the present release and similar fare, I think you have to add his name to a growing list of individuals who never really won matching respect in classical genres outside of their popular theater niches: Arthur Seymour Sullivan, Meredith Willson, Miklós Rózsa, Leonard Bernstein, John Williams, etc. Which is perfectly fine, but let's be honest. 

This is not to say I didn't enjoy Elfman's Wunderkammer, Percussion Concerto, or Are You Lost? On the contrary, each is pleasant enough. But when I view them as musical works in their own right, I'm forced to recognize that there's a reason Elfman became famous on another basis. The first problem is that there is no signature tune in any of this music. If you come to it expecting something like that Simpsons main theme you're going to be disappointed. This echoes a curious trend connected with most of the other people I just mentioned: the flavor of their famous stuff doesn't always transfer well to their "serious" classical compositions. 

It is true that Elfman's rich colors and atmosphere building are present in all three compositions here. But the second problem is that this kind of material is far less riveting in an extended classical structure than it is accompanying Edward Scissorhands trimming hedges or Batman sneaking up on some crook in Gotham City. Elfman is forced to introduce ideas in a kind of minimalist fashion, and stick with them for a time before moving on to other ideas and doing the same. None of them invites sustained attention, and the wholes make nice-ish but underwhelming impressions. One could retort that Philip Glass (whom I've praised here) isn't much different. True, but Glass's distinguished melodic gift transfers over from his film to his concert music comparatively smoothly; he can catch and hold one's ear with the smallest bit of magic. Elfman's magic, such as it is, fizzles outside of its natural home. It all just becomes ordinary. 

I'm not a snob about media music. I've defended its legitimacy in concert settings and as a bona fide classical genre. But I can think this and still recognize that handling a memorable theme in an extended composition is another thing entirely. I respect both skills, but in the end they're separate skills. The number of people great at both constitutes a rarefied group. Elfman isn't in it. 

Verdict: Mildly Recommended

Recording Review #43: Prelude Palooza

72 Preludes (by Chopin, Scriabin, and Yashiro). Mao Fujita, pianist. Sony Classical 19802825762. 

With this intriguingly titled release, Japanese pianist Mao Fujita offers performances of three 24-prelude cycles – two well-known Western collections plus an Eastern one that is unfamiliar in the West. Echoing Sony's promotional blurb, they unite the Japan where Fujita grew up with the Europe where he now lives. It's an attractive idea and well executed. Fujita is clearly excited to introduce us to the music of Akio Yashiro, who died at the young age of 46 and left behind a relatively small body of compositions. But there's also much to recommend his Chopin and especially Scriabin, despite my intermittent reservations on points of interpretation. The overarching result is a polished product that positively reflects the artistry of all represented, if unevenly so. 

We'll consider each group in chronological order. Fujita's best assets as a pianist are his subtle gradations and silky tone colors, especially in calmer passages. His weaknesses are a lack of intensity when the going gets stormy, and an occasional tendency to over-pedal. Given the wide gamut of character states in Chopin's much-loved Op. 28 preludes, everything here averages out to a qualified success. Some numbers are simply stunning, with the A Minor (No. 2) and F-Sharp Minor (No. 8) standing out. In the former, the gentle dissonances in the left hand have just the right amount of velvety bite. In the latter different shades of sound entirely offset some missing passion. I have rarely heard a more beautiful middle section in the F-Sharp Major (No. 13). On the other hand, I found the B-Flat Minor (No. 16) lacking in fire, with the E-Flat Major and D Minor (Nos. 19 and 24) exhibiting similar shortcomings. The F Minor (No. 18) is too halting and recitative-like. The G Minor (No. 22), however, bucks the trend and comes off as suitably fearsome. 

Fujita dispatches Scriabin's Op. 11 set with better interpretive aim and consistency. If he still occasionally underplays climaxes (as in No. 1 in C), there is nice passion in some of the others (hear Nos. 14, 18, and 24, for example). But it's in Scriabin's trademark languid moods where Fujita's sound is absolutely sumptuous; you're not going to hear much better Nos. 12-13. Another highlight is No. 21 in B-Flat, which bursts with major-key loveliness. 

I wish I could say the 24 preludes by Akio Yashiro match the creative level of the Chopin and Scriabin sets. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, they do not as a whole. Frankly I find most of them to be a bit on the quotidian side. However there are some important exceptions, the most notable of which is No. 18. This has a faint flavor of Sakura Sakura about it, but also a strong identity of its own. The slow tempo and soto-like figures in the right hand contribute to a vivid atmosphere that entirely pulls the listener in. I can't imagine very many pianists adopting the whole Yashiro cycle into their performing repertoire, but I can absolutely see this one piece attaining widespread prominence as an encore or other standalone offering. That it is by a 15-year-old composer just adds to one's astonishment. While none of Yashiro's other preludes quite reach this level for me, some with slower tempi come close (hear Nos. 14 and 16). 

So, please do listen to this for some good-to-great Chopin, some great Scriabin, and a few Yashiro gems that are worth the entire listening experience all by themselves. 

Verdict: Eagerly Recommended 

Recording Review #42: Two Trios 2

Mendelssohn: Piano Trios, Opp. 49 and 66. Joshua Bell, violinist; Steven Isserlis, cellist; Jeremy Denk, pianist. Sony Classical 19802832482.

What we have here are three celebrated musicians who have built quite separate performing identities. Even if you somehow don't already know who they are, a telling clue for their chamber effort here is the lack of an ensemble name. Such collaborations can sometimes come off relatively seamlessly, as Isaac Stern, Yo-Yo Ma, and Emanuel Ax (among others) have demonstrated. At other times folks like these betray the occasional nature of their partnership; chamber music (or at least chamber music with each other) isn't their main gig. 

If I place this recording firmly in the second category, I'm not saying it's "bad." It's just very much that kind of product, with advantages that may be disadvantages, or vice versa, depending upon one's perspective. It's a case of three big musical personalities who doubtless approach their task with ample goodwill, but who can't help being three big musical personalities. The result is interpretations that are full of interest and contain many breathtakingly played passages, but which are marked by a feeling of heterogeneity overall. This is easiest to notice in the outer movements of these two trios, where dynamic changes and accents are often steep, and where questions of attack, articulation, and line accentuation can feel mercurially realized over many measures. 

With any Romantic chamber repertoire involving piano, it matters disproportionately who your pianist is and what he/she brings to the table. Let's face it, this person is the glue of the ensemble and will determine the performance's visage like no one else. Jeremy Denk is certainly no slouch when it comes to technique. Moreover, I can't deny that he brings ample spontaneity to his playing, which some listeners will understandably find fresh and attractive. But what I'm missing from him is a sense of polished consistency, not to mention aristocratic refinement and Romantic sweep. For me these qualities mark the best pianism in Mendelssohn's two great trios. And while I don't let Bell and Isserlis entirely off the hook for the group's lapsed homogeneity, they're more on the same page with each other than Denk is with them. 

But it would be unfair not to point out some glorious moments. One is the climactic finish to the Andante of Op. 49. The whole movement is wonderful but this particular passage just sings, buttressed by some uncommonly rich string playing. (I'll admit, there are times in these chamber works when having world-beating soloists can be an advantage.) To my ears, the scherzo of Op. 66 is another highlight. My preference is still for more smoothness, but I can't deny that there is punch and spice to this group's rendition. It's one of the more interesting (in a good way) Op. 66 scherzo performances I've heard. 

I suppose one of the vicissitudes of our endless stream of canon repertoire recordings is the pressure performers feel to be original on well-trodden ground. Sometimes this leads to worthy things; often it just results in strainy messes. The present option isn't my preferred take on Mendelssohn's Piano Trios overall, but its truly special aspects add value to the catalog. As with the trios I reviewed in my previous post, I'd caution newcomers to sample other options before listening to this one. Since those are vast, I'll just list three recordings that remain exemplary among the many I've heard: Trio Wanderer (Harmonia Mundi HMC 901961), Florestan Trio (Hyperion CDA67485), and the Gould Piano Trio (Naxos 8.555063). All of these extol the aforementioned qualities I find lacking here despite other merits. 

Verdict: Recommended