schumann piano concertopianoenthusiast.com/comparative-surveys-pdf/schumann... · schumann piano...

www.PianoEnthusiast.com

Schumann Piano Concerto In A-minor, Opus 54

96 versions evaluated (Last updated: November, 2012)

Recommended Recordings

What the Reviewers are Saying

Interpretive Analysis

Comparative Survey

© Graham Reid 2014. All Rights Reserved


Schumann Piano Concerto Recommended Recordings

Piano Enthusiast Reference Recording

Alternative Choices:

Ivan Moravec

Moravec’ years of performance experience have polished this gem

to perfection. Live performance, 1992, with Eduardo Mata and the

Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Dorian CD 90172, paired with the

Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1, Opus 15.

Evgeny Kissin Pianist and conductor both find infinite degrees of

nuance that perfectly balance bold outline with deep,

poetic expression. Studio Recording, 2006, with Sir Colin

Davis and the London Symphony Orchestra. EMI CD

82879, paired with the Mozart Concerto No. 24, K.491

Angela Hewitt A more intimately conceived rendering, lovingly played by

Hewitt, and recorded with sumptuous sound quality. 2010

performance with Hannu Lintu and the Deutsches

Symphonie Orchester, Berlin. Hyperion CD 67885,

paired with Schumann Op. 92 and Opus 134.


Other Noteworthy Performances for the Collector:

Murray Perahia with Claudio Abbado and Berlin Phil. Sony 64577

Martha Argerich with Nikolaus Harnoncourt and

the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. Now available at budget price on Teldec’s budget label: Apex 256477161

(generally $8.00 or less)

Historic Performances of Note:

Emil von Sauer with Wilhelm Mengelberg and

the Amsterdam Concertgebouw.

(1940) Arbiter CD 114

Walter Gieseking with Günther Wand and

the Kölner Rundfunk.

(1951) Medici CD 0172

Solomon Cutner with Herbert Menges and

the Philharmonia Orch.

(1950’S) EMI’s Icon series specially-priced set.

Wilhelm Backhaus with Günther Wand and

the Vienna Philharmonic.

(1960) Decca CD 433899

Budget Pick:

Louis Lortie with Neemi Jarvi and

the Philharmonia Orchestra.

Chandos 10603 (generally $10 or less)


Schumann Piano Concerto: What the Reviewers are Saying

Gramophone’s top pick was for Grimaud and Esa-Pekka Salonen on DG, making a point of noting that

this performance has dethroned their previous long-standing crown holder, the Perahia/Abbado

performance on Sony. The reviewer says “she’s a drink of fresh water. Even if you’ve heard this oft-

played piece once too often she imbues each note and phrase with fresh life.” Meanwhile, Penguin gave

a rarely-awarded Rosette to the Leif Ove Andsnes/Jansons performance on EMI. Neither of those

performances tickled my fancy (I won’t reiterate here; read the reviews below). However, the BBC

survey cited three “Top Choice” performances: Kissin/Davis (best modern version), the 1942

Gieseking/Furtwangler (best historic version), and Staier/Herreweghe (best authentic instruments

version). I tend to agree with the BBC that their three selections are all noteworthy. I would only amend

their citation about the Gieseking to reflect a newly-released live concert performance from 1951 which

has all the characteristics of the ’42 performance but even more ravishing tone color from the pianist.

But the ’42 is also worth having in its incredible new re-master by Rudolf Ondrich.

Amateur diatribes continue unabated on Amazon customer reviews and YouTube postings. The

problem with opening up commentary to anybody who has five minutes to send a thoughtless blast of

opinion into cyberspace is that these listeners rarely have a comprehensive basis for their opinions, and

tend not to see the validity of differing opinions. It is clear that the innate psychological disposition of

listeners who prefer Arrau and listeners who prefer Argerich are vastly different, yet these rabid fans

view their favorite as the only one worth listening to. Hence the ALL BOLD CAPS followed by six

exclamation points!!!!!! I talk about extreme points of view and intolerance in the essay, Listener

Psychology: How We Perceive Music.

In another essay, The Relevance of Music Criticism, I talk about the limitations of proscribed reviewing

formats. In other words, I firmly believe that a one-off review of Angela Hewitt’s new recording of the

Schumann Concerto is worthless, unless it compares the performance to other performances that may

be recognized by the reader. To say that it sounds poetic, or invigorating, or sounds good, begs the

question: “compared to what?” That is why I believe comparative surveys are really the only valid form

of review. In times past I used to avidly read the repertoire overviews in the American Record Guide,

and I also liked the BBC surveys because they take the time to outline the methodology and disposition

of the reviewers so that you can determine whether or not you agree with the stated criterion used to

make these evaluations. Anything else just captures fleeting impressions at best. I have personally

known a few music writers for major newspapers who have only a few performances of each work to

refer to as a basis for their opinions. How can you say anything about any Beethoven Ninth Symphony

when you’ve only ever heard ten different recordings and attended a few live concerts? So, you say you

like the Karajan best, but have never even heard the Furtwangler?? I believe I have over a hundred

Beethoven Ninths and some 140 versions of the Liszt Sonata in my library, and that gives me a very good

basis to make comparative recommendations. But if somebody came along who had 160 versions, and

arrived at different conclusions than I had, especially if they ended up recommending a performance I

was unfamiliar with, I’d pay very careful attention to what they had to say, and probably make a point of

getting that recording right away. But before I did that, I’d probably look for commentary on

performances that I knew and see if we were arriving at the same conclusions. Somebody that’s only

heard a half a dozen, and proclaims one of them their favorite, is not someone whom I’m going to pay

serious attention to.

I also know that radio station program managers often rely on reference guides to target specific

playtime for recordings that are considered reference standards, but these guides, Penguin,


Gramophone, NPR, only recommend recordings that are currently available. But what if you’ve had a

CD on your shelf for twenty years and wonder how it compares with some new performance? Plus,

based on demand, companies are always repackaging and re-releasing older recordings. My

comprehensive comparisons consider not only currently unavailable recordings (commercially anyway,

things come and go on YouTube all the time), but also professional sound recordings from radio and

television broadcasts, which given sufficient attention may end up being released by a commercial label,

especially if “marketable” artists are involved.

How many recordings I’ve heard is not as important as having experienced the fullest range of variation

in performance. For example, the last eight recordings I evaluated to complete this survey of the

Schumann Concerto did not contribute any further understanding of the score, and none of them ended

up being recommended. So in a way, I wasted so many hours for nothing; no further understanding,

minimal enjoyment. But one never knows when something unexpected lays just around the corner.

What is important for any reviewer to come to grips with is knowing why a certain performance may

appeal to one listener yet be off-putting to another. I do like to recommend, and enjoy myself,

performances with distinct points of view, Argerich/Harnoncourt for example. But I also selected

carefully from among Argerich’s numerous versions to find the one that would appeal to the core fan

base looking for excitement and vitality and sparkle, while minimizing the characteristics which

aggravate other listeners, namely, the manic and sometimes incoherent tendencies evidenced in some of

the live concert renditions. And even though her finale may not be what I consider the finest “reference

standard,” when I’m driving a long stretch of road, hers is the kind of performance that enlivens the

spirit and makes me arrive at my destination with a smile.


Schumann Piano Concerto: Interpretive Analysis

I want to emphasize that this interpretive analysis is not about pointing to any one best solution, but

about showing how some ways (often multiple ways) are more likely to succeed, while others are tricky to

pull off, and still others demonstrate internal incongruences both psychologically and from a

hermeneutical-expressive viewpoint. The performances that I end up recommending demonstrate the

highest percentage of interpretive decisions that are consistent and convincing, with the fewest lapses and

unconvincing interpretive choices. One thing is for sure, the most compelling versions tell a story or convey

a mood, and are less concerned with “notes.” Literal –obsessive and pedantic performances don’t get high

marks by me.

The Opening Salvo. Measures 1-4. This cadential flourish did not appear in the first edition. It was

added later at Clara Schumann’s suggestion. My thought is that if it is purely a rhetorical flourish (like

the opening of the Grieg Concerto that is not in any way thematic) then the tempo should be consistent

until the final V-I resolution. Rubato here seems out of place, yet many take liberties already in this

seemingly straight-away passage. Some, like Arrau, start vigorous and then immediately put on the

brakes for a heavy dose of gravitas. Agogic emphasis on the final cadence seems reasonable, although

many pianists play it without any agogic emphasis and this already indicates a psychological tendency

for metric propulsion and restless energy. As for articulation, there are varying degrees of how sharply

the dotted rhythms are rendered, and whether or not pedal should be employed. Then, of course, we

have Cortot playing a low E bass octave with the orchestra on the first note so that the upper treble

chords have some anchoring harmonic foundation and don’t sound as brittle. Anda does the same thing,

but uses the sostenuto pedal so he gets the anchoring tone but also clarity in the upper chords. Since

this wasn’t really Robert’s idea anyway, I doubt he’d care one way or the other. Personally, I’d just as

soon start the work without the salvo (perhaps somebody will do a “First Edition” performance without

the later emendations for Clara). Finally, there is the question of cohesive intent. A vigorous, sharply

defined salvo followed by a slow, brooding pace would seem to go beyond the slight allowances for

Schumann’s dreamy Eusebius and fiery Florestan tendencies. Listeners might not even be able to put

their fingers on it, but at a subliminal level, such jolting juxtapositions, without transitional

development, register as inconsistencies in character, like an actor who inexplicably shouts or whispers

out of context.

Orchestral Exposition. Measures 4-11. The differences that show up in various performances center

on two things: tonal balance and tonal color. As for tonal balance, some conductors like to emphasize

the top line (the oboe in this case) while others look for more solidity and equal balance among the

different instruments. Then there are those that are completely different from anybody else, as

evidenced in Günther Wand’s 1960 collaboration with Backhaus wherein he gives a startling emphasis to

the sustained horns (accidental or intentional?). Perhaps even more important than balance is the

quality of the instrumentalists themselves. Let’s not pretend nobody notices the difference between the

quality of the principal instrumentalists of the Berlin Philharmonic (or other top groups) and some of

the more provincial orchestras on record. Some of the budget recordings have orchestras so bad, and

with such sour intonation that it makes my skin crawl. To me, coming right at the start of the work, and

being so exposed in texture, it makes a difference as to how much I’m going to enjoy the proceedings. It

is interesting to note that conductors, like pianists, often need a decade or two of actual concert

experience to determine what balances work best. I’m thinking of Abbado here, where his earlier

version with Brendel and the London Symphony Orchestra is very flat and one-dimensional, and his

later version with Perahia and the Berliner Philharmoniker has more layers and more allowance for the

principals to deliver expressive passages.


Fig.1 Measures 12-18 reveal a lot about the player’s psychology

Piano Exposition. Measures 12-19. So much can be conveyed in these few measures. The first thing

one notices is the sense of pace. Is the tempo steady and determined? Depending on the dynamic

inflection this could either be stoic (Arrau) or noble (Backhaus). Or is there more spontaneous and

poetic use of rubato? If rubato is employed does the pianist tend to put on the brakes (Hess), or push on

the accelerator (Argerich) as an expressive device? Measure 13 is a key determination, and often

characterizes the entire performance. The pianist has three choices: play the last three eighth note

chords in strict tempo, push the line forward, or pull back the tempo. Each has a completely different

psychology. The strict tempo performers are likely to look at the overall arch of the line, the architecture

of the work, and in the case of Arrau and Hess, convey a stoicism-confronts-fatalism approach that

seems to remove the singular passions of the performer to a more abstract and absolute realm of

philosophical pondering. The performers who push forward, most notably Argerich, are very much in

the active-drama mode, feeling their way forward with raw nerves, and restless energy (or uncontrolled

adrenalin?). Those who draw back tend to be the expressive poets who emphasize the brooding,

ruminative and introspective aspects of the work. But we’re not done yet with all that this solo passage

has to tell. At measure 16, how much time is allowed to make the figurative leap to the top of the

phrase? If quick, then the pianist conveyed confidence that victory is at hand. If slow but firm (with a

solid top tone), then the pianist conveys a sense of suspended euphoria. If slow but with a soft landing

then the pianist conveys a sense of resignation. In each case you can almost see the body language:

square shoulders, chin up; face upward and beatific smile; or slumped shoulders and downward cast

eyes. Wait, there’s more! Measure 17 is the pivotal transitional point of the phrase. Does the pianist

observe the staccato on the downbeat (as Arrau does in his 1951 performance) thereby anchoring the

structural foundation of the phrase, or does the pianist connect this note legato, and if so, with equal

emphasis on the second beat, or with a slight diminuendo? A strong legato landing seems to convey

more optimism, a diminuendo, a sense of wistful nostalgia. Then there is the final cadential resolution

in measure 19. Crisp and decisive (case closed), or rounded and indeterminate (open ended question)?

In surveying 81 versions I heard every conceivable inflection, and in all of the top versions, there is a

consistency of intent, rather than an inchoate mix of this or that. In other words, a pianist would not

surge forward in measure 13, then have a soft landing on measure 17, the two perspectives are completely

different psychologically.

Brooding Journey. Measures 19-31. This is the first instance where the piano and orchestra join

together. There are three basic approaches to how this section will proceed. First, do nothing, just put

the fingers on auto-pilot and slowly ease into the musical discourse. I’ve talked to some more casual

listeners who actually prefer episodes like this that require less attention so they can relax between more

dramatic passages (in other words, a sort of emotional breathing room that allows the mind to wander).

Giving equal weight to the left hand marcato imparts a certain emotionally neutral, fatalistic pre-

determinism, which is not my preference, but if it is consistent with the overall conception may have a

culmulative power in moments where tensions arise and resolve. Second, each phrase can be imbued

with its own pulsing rise and fall of expression centered on the sighing minor-key lamentations in the

left hand. This conveys a more active sense of passion and yearning. These can further be individualized

by observing the piano and mezzo-forte contrasts (Cortot ’34 or ‘51). Additionally, careful agogic

emphasis can give even deeper gravitas to the expression by slightly elongating the time between the F-


natural and the sighing slur down to the E (Virsaladze ’77). Thirdly, one can minimize each individual

phrase but look instead to the overall twelve-measure arch of the episode, seeing it rise slightly in

emphasis in the middle and subtly taper down on the back side (Bolet/Chailly).

The Wake-Up Call. Measures 39-41. Listeners react quite differently to how this played. There is a

certain threshold of emphasis beyond which, to my ears, the music passes from Schumann to Prokofiev.

The question is how much saber rattling is really appropriate here. Many listeners like the pianist to

exert a bolder profile here, as if awaking from the preceding (noodling) slumber. Others, like myself,

prefer a more measured transition to the orchestral tutti at measure 42. The clue to me is to look at

Schumann’s orchestration at measure 42 – it’s not all that robust. I believe the intent is for a little jolt of

excitement, not full-blown orchestral fury. Therefore, I prefer pianists who voice down the left hand

octaves to tame the Lion’s Roar of the Steinway beast (not an issue on Backhaus’ Bösendorfer, or Bolet’s

Bechstein). Of course, dynamic intensity is not the only variant here, as tempo can be either slowed or

quickened. Slow and emphatic means resolute character, throw in a big crescendo and some emphatic

non-legato accents on the bass octaves and the impression is one of defiance. Play at a measured

dynamic level with a semi-detached marcato (without the bowdlerizing Steinway bass) and the effect is

more of breathless anticipation. Any of these approaches can be valid (although I’m personally less keen

on the bowdlerizing Steinway octaves – this is not Rachmaninoff after all) but the thing I look for is

consistency of expression. You don’t play one section like a brooding poet and another like a barn-

storming virtuoso without setting off all kinds of subliminal disconnects with the listener. This is where

I find Argerich most maddening, she seems to take every moment when she’s “off the leash” (playing in

time with the orchestra) to pounce with utmost energy on whatever lies before her. Such outbursts of

“temperament” (or lack of discipline) tend to chew the scenery.

Fig.2 Measures 47-51: Canonic or Homophonic?

Quasi Canonic Chords. Measures 47-57. There are two renderings of this that have really impressed

me, and they are both my top recommended recordings: Moravec and Kissin. Normally I hear just a

bunch of chords, and frankly, it’s not the most flattering writing for the piano. Sure, there is some range

for expressive tendencies – pushing forward, or pulling back – depending on the temperament of the

artists, but Moravec and Kissin offer another level of refinement. Moravec uniquely finds a rhythmic

propulsion in the dah-dah-dum eighth note figurations, like the tapping of a small dance drum, and uses

supreme voice control to continue this pattern even when there is a steady flow of chords (by voicing

down the non-rhythmic note). This puts a spring in the step, and works nicely against how he voices

the top tone of each canonic entry for a crystalline clarity. I can tell you one thing, technique aside, you

need a well-regulated piano to be able to pull that off (he used a nice Hamburg Steinway). Kissin, is also

noteworthy, but to different effect. Kissin brings out the canonic lines more effectively than anybody by

clearly emphasizing the passing of the line back and forth between the two hands. The piano is also

voiced to bring a slightly different color to each register (another Hamburg Steinway). To put it in

layman’s terms, it’s a sort of brief dog-chasing-his-tail episode. Just writing about this makes me want to

listen to them both again. Bravo!


Thematic Imitation. Measures 104-110. After pages and pages of noodling, Schumann finally gives

the pianist something of thematic and melodic interest. It’s a playful little interchange between the

orchestra’s first iteration and the piano’s rejoinder, and repeats its play a second time before the mood

transitions. The interpretative choices (or artistic instincts) made here once again reaffirm the general

psychological disposition of the protagonist (the piano soloist). The melody may be projected with a

glowing confidence and affirmation of the shared moment of interplay, or it may be rendered with an

emphatic marcato touch, almost in a declamatory fashion, or it may be gentle and playful, even coy. In

any case, I believe it is crucial to do something, anything, here before the music draws back down to a

more reflective state. Bolet miscalculated here and sounds too forced. Argerich (Harnoncourt version)

artfully applies the most infinitesimal adjustment to tempo with her piano rejoinder, as if riding upon

and being suspended on the crest of a wave set in motion by the orchestra. Emil von Sauer and

Mengelberg are absolutely wonderful here, the piano and orchestra exchange their banter with true

delight.

Fig.3 Measures 112-115: Gentle rustling figures in the left hand

The Gentle Animato. Measures 112-115 and 265-368. It is surprising how often these few brief

measures spoil otherwise pleasant proceedings. Pollini (Abbado version) is unforgivably coarse and

insensitive here. One idea is to hold back the melodic projection with some reticence (it will still be

heard because it is the top voice and because the texture of the writing is very transparent) and let the

left hand rustle faintly beneath. This conveys a moment of inward reflection. However, as nice as that

may be, it would seem to go against Schumann’s own a tempo animato marking. In that case the idea

would be to keep expressive rubato at a minimum (which would be contrary to animato), keep the left

hand figurations flowing steadily, but project the melodic line (without harshness) with a soaring sense

of hopeful optimism. Besides Pollini (who was the worst) it is surprising how many pianists play the left

hand murmurings (marked with legato phrasing) in a dry, brusque, un-pedaled manner that always

seems somewhat startling and disruptive in the overall context. Of those who are especially effective I

would site Gieseking (’51) who is amazingly supple and graceful here, just silky and supremely refined.

Moravec is not as silky as Gieseking (who is?) but has a warmth of tone that glows with reassurance of

compassion and humanity.

Fig.4 Measures 160-163 Let’s hear the orchestral melody – not just the pianistic fluff!


Andante espressivo. Measures 156-184. This is one of the most loved moments of the concerto

(whenever you hear sound samples of the concerto this is what they play); an interlude of rapt

communion and tender intimacy. It is certainly not difficult for the pianist technically, and in fact, it is

pretty hard for the pianist to ruin this moment. But nearly half of the recordings I evaluated fell flat

here, and the blame goes entirely to the conductors, or I suppose, it could be a case of a terrible

recording producer who has fiddled with the balance controls. At issue here is whether or not the

orchestral lines will be expressive and soar against the smooth piano figurations, or whether the

conductor holds the reigns too tightly on his players. There’s simply no valid reason to keep the

orchestral lines so reticent. They have the primary melodic focus here. I’ve noticed that conductors who

have several recordings under their belts (batons) get better each time. It’s like they don’t trust

themselves at first. But this section is just pointless noodling without the poignant expressive color of

the orchestra. Okay, let’s look first at what the orchestra does here. Measure 160 has the clarinet enter

with a beautifully suspended line. The most important thing here is that the dynamic level is sufficient

so that it stands out as the intended melodic focus to the listener. Beyond that, there is the color of the

instrument, dark and pensive, or brighter and more vibrant of vibrato? Then, crescendo on the D-flat,

or the C natural, or same dynamic level with a slight uplift with the ascending figure end of ms. 161?

Each of these subtle variations conveys different moods, more pensive, more optimistic, even mono-

dynamic conveys its own mood. Then what about the lovely dovetailing between the clarinet and the

flutes in ms. 170? Sometimes the playing is so reticent you don’t even hear this.

Now, let’s look at what the pianist is doing. First off, there is the question of balance between the right

melody and the left hand arpeggiations. Some pianists are just too anal retentive here, making sure

every note of the simple harmonic figurations is heard, and in the case of Pollini, he clearly emphasis a

metric shift between the six-note groups and the seven-note groups. Come on, we don’t want to hear

what metric sub-groups the figurations are written in, it’s all just glorified noodling anyway. The main

purpose of the figurations is just to act as harmonic fill-in against the melody. Now, assuming a smooth,

naturally flowing left hand, does the pianist anchor the bass tone at the beginning of each measure

(Arrau, Rubinstein) or make them all equal? Anchoring tends to convey a sense of centeredness and

control, even voicing tends to convey either elegance or more ethereal states, depending on what the

right hand is doing. If the pianist has opted not to anchor the bass tones, by measure 175, with the

descending bass line starting on the G-flat, I believe it is helpful to give a little more emphasis here

(Moravec, Friere) to kind of offer some variation in texture from the dynamic stasis, and it cues in a little

more input from the pianist into the dialog. But I’ve heard successful versions that didn’t do that, and

that’s fine as long as the orchestra is there to provide some interest, primarily as a belated echo to the

ornamental turns in the piano (ms. 172). So, those are the variables that can make for all kinds of

different moods in this episode. Both Schiff and Bolet stand out in my memory as having especially

compelling and beautifully soaring melodic projection. But Argerich is equally magical in a different

way, by playing in a sort of suspended mono-dynamic stasis, she creates an almost breathless intimacy

that makes time stand still. As I said in the preface, the most compelling versions tell a story or convey a

mood, and are less concerned with “notes.” This is where Pollini went awry. His reading is so literal to

every detail, that the mood is lost and he sounds stiff, Earthbound, and pedantic.

Cadenza. Measures 402-457. I would divide the cadenza into three distinct episodes: the first being

quasi-canonic (well, imitative) and requiring clarity of voicing, the second being an agitated chordal

sequence which can be either buoyant or bowdlerizing depending on the pedaling and how heavy the

bass octaves sound, and third, the trilling sequence with the fluid ascent to the peak at measure 451

before subsiding back down. I don’t have very rigid viewpoints on the cadenza, and enjoy hearing it

done in different ways. But there are a few places that can be a little unsettling if done in certain ways.

So, let’s start at the beginning. A few performers suffer from a lingering rush of adrenalin that can easily


mar the musical subtleties here. This is especially so with live concert recordings. Just from the way it’s

written it is hard to seem emotionally detached while playing this cadenza, yet it is easy to become

emotionally overwrought and manic.

Fig.5 Measures 398-401: the pianist should use the last four accented bass notes to get emotionally centered

With the accelerando and big orchestral introduction, many players ride this surge and charge right

through the opening gates. But there is plenty of time with the four accented bass notes at the end of

measure 401 [fig. 5] to settle down and get emotionally centered. I wouldn’t automatically disqualify a

performer for a few lines of unfocused venting, especially a live concert recording, but I prefer the

cadenza start more thoughtfully and measured, because then it gives the performer somewhere to go

when building up the outpouring of chordal fury measures 420-433. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The sequential pattern of eighth notes that change from the right hand to the left hand as they descend

need to be clearly heard against the various sustaining harmonies. It is surprising to me that even in a

live concert situation, voice-leading can be so poor coming from a trained concert pianist. But as I said,

this is mostly due to adrenalin and emotional outpouring. The next item is the ascending bass octave

pattern which repeats four times. If the pianist starts out with too much agitation then it gets pretty

crazy by the end of the sequence and then we still have the chordal fury ahead of us. But if the pianist is

too measured, and the four patterns of the sequence are too similar and repetitive, then it becomes just

another boring bit of transitional passagework. In this whole opening portion of the cadenza one of my

favorites is Backhaus. By the intensity of his tone, which is firm and commanding, we are immediately

in the grip of his vivid story-telling. We are on the edges of our seats wondering “what’s going to

happening next?” But, everything is clearly articulated and makes sense from a musical point of view.

Fig.6 Measures 426-429: Fists Full of Fury! Savage or Civilized?

Now, the infamous “fists of fury” chordal passage. Argerich fans love how she just lets her hair down and

lets it rip. I’m less fond of that kind of wildness but I can take it if all the notes are clearly articulated and

the whole passage isn’t lost in an inarticulate roar of pedal and pounded chords. They talk about some

of Brahms’ writing as being un-pianistic, but I think here Schumann takes the cake. This entire passage

is really quite un-pianistic, but then again, it would still sound somewhat unusual even if it were the

orchestra playing.

Now we’ve made it to the long trills, with the motivic chords in the left hand. In nearly a hundred

versions evaluated, I’ve heard every possible permutation, left hand grace note before the right hand D-

sharp, between the D-sharp and the primarily trilling note, even after. Cortot and Moravec play the low


E octave to anchor the harmonic foundation (I don’t think it makes a big difference, a good agogic

accent is usually sufficient). Then the questions of voicing, or even more basic, what dynamic level?

Many play with an expressive mezzo-piano here when the score is clearly marked fortissimo. But this is a

cadenza after all, where the soloist is traditionally allowed the most expressive liberty. And you know,

despite all this variability, I don’t think I’ve heard a rendition that just didn’t work. This is just not a

make or break episode for me, but others may have stronger opinions. I do have a stronger point of view

on the upward sequential patterns that follow, in that I prefer to hear the melodic profile clearly

articulated and sustained over the agitated writhing underneath, but even here I’m fairly tolerant.

Fig.7 Measures 449-457: Defiant to the end, or peaceful and reconciled?

As the cadenza draws to a conclusion, I prefer to hear the arrival at the downbeat of measure 451 as the

true dynamic peak of the phrase. It seems most of the older performances did that (Backhaus a favorite),

but a majority of modern pianists draw back here for one last tug of expressiveness. Perahia’s second go

(with Abbado) sort of keenly balances the two approaches: it’s not a true fortissimo, but he does give

agogic stress at the top of the phrase so that it registers sufficiently as the emotional fulcrum point of

the passage. The final point of significant variation between pianists is how the last four measures are

handled. Do they kind of anchor themselves at the resolution at the downbeat of measure 454, then

slowly taper back dynamics and intensity, or do they keep up the intensity until the final resolution on

the trill? A big booming F octave in the bass and a grand allargando, or the bass octave snuck in under

the radar, and a gentle drawing back to the final trill? Obviously the mood conveyed is vastly different

between the two approaches, one larger than life, possibly stern and defiant, the other more conciliatory

or even submissive.

Allegro molto coda. Measures 458-544. There’s not much for the pianists to do here, it’s all pretty

simple filler-fluff and a little gentle metric prodding. But the orchestra can make or break it for me. If

they just ride it out to the end, the whole coda seems like a tired anticlimactic passage after the cadenza.

They need to step up and really articulate those motivic lines with some enthusiasm. Again, it’s the

conductor, not the orchestra that should be blamed for too much reticence here. Those performances

that convey some sense of scampering excitement get a plus mark from me, those that just fade away,

get a minus mark. Apart from that distinction, the only thing unusual I heard was when Gilels didn’t

play the final resolving chord with the orchestra. Looking at the video, it’s clear this was not a memory

lapse, he just put his hands down and let the orchestra have the final say. But I’m okay with that, it

doesn’t affect the integrity of the musical resolution.

Intermezzo: Andante grazioso. The first few measures tell us right away whether or not the pianist

and orchestra are walking together hand in hand. The piano’s initiating 6-7-8-1 figurations are then


answered by the orchestra’s 2-3-4-5, and then again with the piano’s 6-7-8-1, and the answering 2-3-4-5.

Do these exchanges occur in exact time, or is there a slight pause in between? Evidence of a good

rapport is when the orchestra’s rejoinder almost dovetails with the piano’s, as when in conversation one

person anxiously finishes the sentence of the other. Question and answer, or like the movements of two

ice skaters weaving back and forth to each other’s movements, first one ahead, then the other scooting

forward. Besides timing, there is also the question of dynamic profile. Almost by tacit definition of its

hermeneutical-expressive meaning, most performers grow the upward gesture with a gentle crescendo,

and the orchestra would then ideally mimic the same dynamic contour. Another way is simply to keep

the dynamics at a uniform level. But in no case would it make any sense from a hermeneutical-

expressive point of view to play an ascending gesture with a diminuendo. The only way that would ever

make sense is if a slight ritardando was employed, to convey a momentary hesitation or self reflection.

That is not possible here because the piano and orchestra are changing the baton back and forth within

close tolerances. So, I look for consistency in dynamic continuity. Of course, a few of the live

performances suffer from unintended irregularities, as in Perahia’s account with Davis where one

gesture done with the aforementioned (und ganz verboten) diminuendo in the piano, not echoed by the

orchestra, and in another figuration we hear a dynamic dip in the piano. If this had been a studio

recording that would have warranted a remake. But slight imperfections such as that occur in live

performances.

Fig.8 Measures 28-32. Conductors: The celli have the melody – let’s hear it!

The really big issue (that can’t be shrugged off) is whether the conductor allows the orchestra to play

expressively and with forward dynamic projection over the piano at rehearsal letter “A” (beginning at

measure 29 with the celli). I’d say the majority of recordings I evaluated have reticent playing at this

point. It just makes no sense at all, given that the piano is merely filling in time with a simple broken

chords. The orchestra has the thematic interest here, and it’s really the big tune of the whole movement.

Being a cellist himself Rostropovich really gave a lot of leash to the cello section to play their hearts out,

and it’s one of the great moments of that performance with Argerich. Of course, with some of the third

rate orchestras (Naxos recording with Biret) you really wish they’d hold back and keep quiet. Most

pianists are sensitive here and realize the orchestra has the tune, but a few blockheads play with a firmly

etched solidity (what pianists call “playing to the keybed”), as opposed to treading lightly on the

keytops. It’s like they want not a single note of their wonderful playing to go unheard. One nit-pick for

record producers: please cue up the track for the third movement at the third movement! Many of them

cue up the last track at rehearsal letter D (measure 104 of the second movement), but this is just

transitional material.


Fig.9 Measures 1-16: Cortot really makes a meal of the appetizer!

Allegro vivace. Actually the first 8 measures of the third movement serve as a sort of introduction, and

the thematic exposition begins at measure 9. Therefore I’m not bothered at all by performers who take

some liberties as long as the desired tempo is clear at the onset (downbeat) of measure 9. Cortot is the

freest of them all and milks the introduction for all the drama he can muster, which in his case means

fists full of bass chords, and a resounding low-A octave on the downbeat of measure 9. Now, there has

been some serious debate about the proper tempo for this movement, Clara’s performance indications

being substantially slower than what we consider traditional. The trouble is, while a few masters such as

Gilels can make it work, most others just sound sluggish and dull at such a tempo. Therefore, some

chose to augment their slow tempo with overly emphatic articulation, but they end up sounding like

elephants trying to tap dance. Still others feel confident enough that the excitement of a brisk tempo

allows them to sluff over many details, and play without clarity of articulation or textural nuance.

Surprisingly few seem to get everything just right. Of those few that do get the overall feel right, there

are still pitfalls to overcome. At rehearsal letter B (ms. 40) the phrasing should be legato, while a parallel

passage at letter D is written to played in a semi-detached manner. Some pianists play the two passages

the same way, with a kind of one-size-fits-all touch that is neither legato nor staccato. I believe a clear

distinction should be made because the underlying orchestration is different each time. Rehearsal letter

C should have an easy-lilting rhythm to it, but fewer than half of the recordings get this right. The

piano’s rejoinder to this happens at measures 97-104 and the best pianists will mimic the manner of the

orchestra. However, a few can’t resist the temptation to play it their own way, and occasionally this

works, as when Gilels has a kind of halting, coquettish bit of humor, but at other times the pianist

merely ends up chewing the scenery (Argerich). At measure 178 and continuing through measure 219


the texture of the piano writing changes into small self-contained arching phrases. Some pianists play

these straight, others give a little jab on the accented note at the top of the phrase, and others play these

arching phrases as rising and falling waves. Of the pianists that play them as waves, those with a more

energetic disposition give a surging emphasis to the start of each group. Nobody does this better than

Argerich, and most listeners seem to like the extra bit of excitement it instills in what would otherwise

be a lengthy and repetitive sequence. If played straight (for a more elegant, classic feel) the playing must

be absolutely pristine, as best exemplified by Geza Anda. At rehearsal letter R (ms. 740) begins the first

of numerous passages written in alternating octaves. The passages are clearly indicated with accents (or

sf) yet many pianists give no metric profile to the proceedings. Others give a kind of barely perceptible

dull accent. Then there is the question of how much, if any, pedal. Dull accents and liberal pedaling

make for sluggish, energy-sapping sound, as witness Perahia/Davis (but not Perahia/Abbado). Sharp

accents and clean pedaling gives more metric clarity, and I believe the movement works best with some

visceral excitement.

Fig.10 Measures 813-818. Two-tiers of phrasing in the left hand, two layers of dynamics in the right hand

Measures 803-818 are hardly noticed by anyone who isn’t following the score, but this is one of the last

instances in the concerto where the orchestral writing is transparent enough to allow subtle nuances in

the piano to be heard. The true masters take this opportunity to delineate the two-tiered texture in the

left hand, and it’s always nice if they can render this detail with a bit of graceful lit without disrupting

the forward momentum of the line (Moravec is great). In any case, the upward ascending octaves in the

right hand (ms. 815-819) should take precedence over any fussiness in the left hand.

As the movement draws to a close, the only unusual thing I heard in evaluating nearly a hundred

different versions is with Perahia in his collaboration with Abbado. In the very last four measures of the

work he plays extra chords during the timpani roll, and a low-A octave at the end. I’m not sure where

that idea came from, perhaps some historical reference from Clara Schumann or contemporaries – or

maybe Perahia was just having fun - but I actually quite like it!


Schumann Piano Concerto: Comparative Survey

96 versions evaluated November, 2012, listed alphabetically.

ANDA, Geza. Ernest Bour/Baden Baden. (1963)

ANDA, Geza. Rafael Kubelik/Berlin (1963)

Both of these performances are very good, and both are similar in timings and conception. The Bour version from a

radio broadcast in Freiburg, has very dated sound that limits one’s enjoyment (lots of hiss, limited bass range). The

performance is very engaging and moves forward with a sense of urgency. The Intermezzo has nice interplay

between piano and orchestra, and the final movement is elegantly rendered. The two-disc set also comes with an

engaging performance of the Brahms Second with Hans Rosbaud (1958). Although the performances are

noteworthy I can’t imagine anyone pulling these discs off the shelf for enjoyment when there are so many modern

versions of equal note that sound so much better. And the set sells for $24.99, which seems too steep to me. [2-CD:

Hanssler 944208]

The commercial recording for DG, sounds much better, only getting some glare on fortissimo orchestral tuttis and

an overall lack of warmth in the bass. The sound is typical of DG from that time – if you have Karajan/Berlin

recordings from this time and don’t mind the sound, you’ll be fine with this. I have the old DG Galleria CD which

were not always the best transfers. The performance is slightly better than the version with Bour, and not just

because of the superior orchestra. Anda’s playing is also more alive.

In the opening salvo Anda, like Cortot, plays a low E octave with the orchestra and then uses the sostenuto pedal to

hold this sonority as a kind of harmonic anchor against the sharply delineated cadentail flourish. I rather like the

effect, and given that the whole salvo idea was not really Robert’s idea, but Clara’s suggestion for a more dramatic

opening, I doubt the composer would care one way or the other. The rest of the movement hits all the right marks,

with a clean yet emotionally cogent cadenza. The only nit-pick I have is that Kubelik unnecessarily holds back the

orchestra in the last two pages; the piano has nothing to do but some um-pah figurations and all the motivic

material is in the orchestra, so I would have liked to hear that brought out some more. The vigorous cadential

resolution brings the movement to a strong finish.

The Intermezzo (Andante grazioso) is on the slow side, with rhythmic contours given a “soft landing” approach.

Combine that with the somewhat reticent dynamic level of the orchestra, and the effect is like a quiet, prayful

reverie. I can go with that, though by all evidence from Clara’ writing this should be more like a tender love poem.

The final movement is also slow, clocking in more than a minute longer than Argerich, a half a minute more than

Pollini. But the articulation is crisp, and cadential points are done with emphatic flourish. The overall mood is

what is important, and Geza is ebullient, with a delightful jewel-like delicacy of touch, and many nuances of texture

and articulation. The finale reminds me in some ways of Gieseking, though, because of the slower tempo, not quite

as breathless. From start to finish I enjoyed this performance. [CD: DG 415850]

ANDSNES, Leif Ove. Mariss Jansons/Berlin Phil. (2003)

Penguin liked this enough to give it a Rosette award. I don’t even count it among my top ten. Oh sure, it’s pleasant

enough, and bubbles along with ebullient vivacity, and has fine playing from the Berliners. But in both tone and

texture this rendering is more in the style of Haydn and Mozart than anything to do with Schumann. In terms of

tone, the piano is thin and tinkly, and has no warmth in the mid-bass, and you combine that innate sound with a

preference for dainty articulation and a jeu perle touch and there is a total absence of any pathos or gravitas. Given

this interpretive predilection it is obvious that the final movement would work best, but even here, while elegant,

the playing lacks dynamic vigor, sweep and frisson, and sounds reigned-in, effete, and rather like the musical

equivalent of a jewel-encrusted Fabergé Egg. [CD: EMI 5034192]


ARGERICH, Martha. Sergiu Celibadache/Orch. Nat’l de France. (1974)

ARGERICH, Martha. Franz Decker/CBC Sym. Orch., Montreal. (1977)

ARGERICH, Martha. Rostropovich/National Sym. Orch., Wash. D.C. (1978)

ARGERICH, Martha. Nikolaus Harnoncourt/Chamber Orch. Europe. (1992) Recommended

ARGERICH, Martha. Michael Tilson Thomas/San Francisco S.O. (London Proms)

ARGERICH, Martha. Alexandre Rabinovitch/Orch. Svizzera Italiana. (2002)

ARGERICH, Martha. Dario Ntaca/Sinfonietta Argerich, Argentina. (2005)

ARGERICH, Martha. Riccardo Chailly/Leipziger Gewandhaus (2006)

The Schumann Concerto has been active in Argerich’s repertoire for many decades, and doubtless there will emerge

other concert performances besides those I’ve sampled here. In my own collection I have four CDs and one video

disc, the others I have sampled from YouTube. I have no doubt already invoked the wrath of her fans by not citing

any of these performances among my top recommendations. On the positive side, I see that her performances,

especially the later renderings, are very clearly recognized as her own, even when heard blind on the radio. I see the

value in offering something that is distinctive, and inimitable in style. Those listeners who respond to her style,

noted for its panache and virtuosic flare, are not the same group of listeners who would enjoy Arrau, who resides at

the polar opposite of the interpretive scale. Personally I’m happy to have both extremes available, but the

recordings I recommend fall more into the middle range that balances excitement and gravitas in equal measure.

The local classical radio station where I live often plays the final movement from the Argerich/Harnoncourt

performance. All things considered, I agree it is one of the best for this movement. It always raises the spirits and

the metabolism. But the first two movements of this performance find Harnoncourt somewhat reticent, even

though Argerich gives the orchestra every opportunity for expressive playing. As experienced readers will know, the

Schumann Concerto is not all about the solo piano part; the orchestral sequences and especially the contributions of

solo instruments within the orchestra are absolutely critical to bring out the more subdued expressive elements.

Unfortunately, the first movement really sees so dismal intonation and the bassoon in measure 6 sounds horribly

sick. Given the manic outburst and the iffy playing of the orchestra, I find the first movement nearly unlistenable.

As I said, the last movement is the attraction to this performance.

The one performance where Argerich gets a conductor who really brings out expressive orchestral contributions is

Rostropovich. Yet, the opportunity for a really timeless performance is lost, because for every fine phrase she turns,

there seems to be another that doesn’t quite resonate. That, and her piano has some annoyingly out-of-tune notes

and is a poorly voiced New York Steinway that just doesn’t soar the melodic line as beautifully as her performances

on Hamburg Steinways.

Interpretively, I find the further I go back (to her earlier performances) the more I like the results. But her fan-base

seems to like the later, more extravagant performances. Of all the versions I’ve sampled, I most enjoyed the earliest

performance from 1974 with Sergiu Celibadache. But the very reasons why I like it, go against the very reasons why

her fans love the later performances. At issue is the fact that she seems more disciplined and less impulsive, and the

balance of energy and elegance is the finest I’ve heard in her playing. Once again, the final movement is the strong

point, though her first movement cadenza actually shows balance and voice-leading and musicality – in opposition

to the usual adrenalin-driven rampage of manic emotional discharge. A notorious chain smoker and coffee drinker,

she must have gone easy on the caffeine and nicotine before this performance. In this performance she also shows a

balance of hands and of voice-leading that is not evident in any of her later performances. Here she brings out bass

lines to anchor the harmonic progressions, and she etches out inner voices that later get glossed over in her

increasingly manic renditions. But the recording has fairly mediocre sound quality. Many of the orchestral tuttis

sound muffled and incoherent from poor microphone placement, and the piano, which sounds clean and clear on

the top end (with lots of delicious felicities from Argerich) sounds muffled in the mid-bass region. I was happy to

have come across this performance via a YouTube posting, and hope that maybe a better sounding master can be

obtained.

The video performance from 1977 will be of interest to those who want to watch their favorite pianist, but as a

recorded document the performance is no match either for the elegant pianism of the 1974 version with Celibadache

or the more overtly expressive 1978 account with Rostropovich. The conductor is lackluster, and the CBC orchestral


soloist do not have the color or expressive range of principals from more major ensembles. The clarinet is especially

dull, and this dampens many potentially poignant moments. Argerich’s piano, another bad New York Steinway, has

a wooly, overly needled mid-bass and the melodic range doesn’t soar as well as on her versions with Hamburg

Steinways. The finale lacks the wonderful frisson and metric delineation of her account with Celibadache (or even

the later version with Harnoncourt).

I have pages and pages of specific measure by measure commentary, but I’ll just site one example that is

demonstrative of her style, and you either like it, or like me, find it annoying. It occurs at lucky measure number 13,

and concerns the final eighth note chords in the phrase. In her earliest performance she plays this with elegance

and a restrained sense of rubato, later versions have a bit more forward propulsion, and the latest performances find

her surging ahead at maximum warp speed. Why is this a big deal? Well, first off, it clearly defines the

temperamental disposition of the soloist. At a subliminal level it is telescoping her mental state to the listener – one

of innate restlessness, or even impatience. Given that the same phrase was previously uttered by the orchestra, to

play it so differently sets up a kind of tension between “your way” and “my way”. Her later performances are like a

parody of this impulsive trait, very much a “Prima Donna” indulgence. Incidentally, none of the other performers

in this survey do this, even the old timers from the 1930’s, and that is because to most musicians such an impulsive

surge is considered very undisciplined. The finest artists find ways to balance the discipline of rhythm and balance

against creative inspiration. Argerich is like a Tigress just trying her darndist to sit still until she can pounce on her

prey. Well, you multiply this single measure over the course of the entire work and you can see how such a

mannerism would be divisive among those who like it and those who don’t. My final assessment is this: for

somebody who proposes to love chamber music she sure “chews the scenery” a lot.

ARRAU, Claudio. Karl Krueger/Detroit Sym. Orch. (1944)

ARRAU, Claudio. Victor De Sabata/New York Philharmonic (1951)

ARRAU, Claudio. George Hurst/London Philharmonic Orchestra (1963)

ARRAU, Claudio. Colin Davis/Boston Sym. Orch. (1979)

The 1944 version is a brisk, no non-sense run-through that covers all the basics but doesn’t yet demonstrate any of

the insightful touches that Arrau would later develop. There are some surprisingly lapses of Arrau’s artistic instincts

would suggest this may have been an off day as far as his concentration. The detache articulation in the opening

solo (ms. 13) seems inorganic, the awkward hesitations in the second movement and inconsistent phrasing in the

final movement… none of these things show up in later versions.

The 1951 recording is strictly for historical buffs; the sound is pretty harsh and the orchestral tuttis are glaring.

While I would never put this on for enjoyment, there is much to admire and study in the piano playing. In many

ways this is the best of the three versions I’ve heard of Arrau. This performance has masterful touches in the first

two movements, while the third comes off a little self-consciously reigned-in. Examples of Arrau’s mastery: ms. 17 a

perfectly placed agogic break balances the florid improvisatory nature of the turn with a well-grounded sense of

purpose and conviction. The Intermezzo grazioso is never stolid or predictable, yet always evolves naturally and

convincing. [CD: Music & Arts 1174]

The televised studio performance from 1963 and shows Arrau at his worst: He takes every opportunity to slow down

the music, elongate ponderous rallentandos, and heap on agogics at every turn. Even in the very opening salvo, he

applies the brakes almost at once, and he draws back the tempo whenever he is given a momentary solo. This

performance is a study in Gravitas. The conductor simply follows along as best as he can. Besides the slow tempi

and ponderous gravitas, Arrau’s touch is stolid and Old School German at its worst. There never emerges from

Arrau’s fingers a staccato or enlivening articulation in the whole piece. [EMI archive video]

The 1979 performance on Philips has lovely sound all around: the recording venue, the piano, the orchestral colors.

Davis and the Bostonians provide the most edifying and purposeful collaboration for Arrau, just listen to how deftly

they dovetail here and there or how perfectly aligned they are in the extended passage measures 205-259 in the first

movement. But the merits of this performance would seem to center on whether or not you seek out a more “meat

and potatoes” rendering. I think simply owing to the alert and committed partnership with Davis and the orchestra

Arrau may have been energized to be less ponderous than he was in the 1963 London performance. However, this is

still weighty Schumann, and the agogics abound as ever. This is elder Arrau, and if you listen with an allowance for


a more autumnal nostalgia and brooding reminiscence, then you may get something out of this. Personally, my

shelf is full of other versions that bring forth a more varied palate of emotional experiences, I probably won’t be

spinning this one that often, but it sure was good food for the soul. [LP: Philips 9500-891]

There are two other versions floating around which I haven’t heard: a live performance with Herbert Menges and

the Philharmonia Orch. from the late 50’s on Testament, and a live concert performance done with Dohnanyi and

the Concertgebouw, but without much serious collaborative preparation (a “Let’s see what happens” concert run-

through).

BACKHAUS, Wilhelm. Günter Wand/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra (1960) Recommended

As much a fan as I am of Backhaus (his Beethoven Fourth with Böhm is a reference) I somehow missed getting this

CD into my collection. Thanks to a posting by PG Classics on YouTube I have this on my radar to add to my library.

However, when I first listened via headphones I was really nearly blown away by the quality and clarity of the

sound. The next day I played it on my main audio system and didn’t care for the thin sound and narrow

soundstage. Fortunately, by turning up the volume a bit more and sitting very close to the speakers (nearfield

immersion they call it) I was able to have the same positive reaction. But sitting back at my computer desk the

sound is not as impressive. I take some length to describe this because it seemed an unusual circumstance that

could otherwise compromise ones enjoyment of the performance.

This is a clean, sober, unsentimental performance which somehow imparts neither external excitement nor artificial

gravitas, but allows the music to speak with a most natural and unfettered expression. The Bösendorfer Imperial

stems from the time when those pianos were voiced for classical music, and not so bright and percussive as in the

later decades under the influence of Oscar Peterson and other jazz and pop icons. The sound is clear, but with a

silky melodic sheen and a deeply resonant, but not obfuscatory, bass range. Wand imparts some quite unusual

touches to the orchestral proceedings, enough to give me a startle and make me look at the full score. I’m still not

sure if I like it or not, but in two instances he brings out the horns (ms. 9-11 and again at ms. 106-108) in places

where you’d hardly even notice them in any other performance. It’s not clearly indicated in the score just how

prominently these notes should be in the overall balance, but Wand seems to like them more than everybody else.

Elsewhere, he applies a crisp, propulsive touch, such as in ms. 133-150 which call to mind a military fanfare.

Backhaus keeps a taut line, but projects tender melodic episodes with a lovely, relaxed nobility (the Andante

expressivo ms.156-184). The first time I heard his cadenza I found it utterly gripping, not from bowdlerizing

grandstanding, but from a firm and authoritative touch and clean and purposeful voice-leading. But as I mentioned

before, you have to sit within a certain sweet spot for this recording to come to life. The Intermezzo grazioso

moves along apace, without any excessive wallowing, yet it is not stoic and inexpressive, just not saccharin. The

final movement is well characterized, the different textures and subtle differentiations each clearly rendered, and

just enough drive to get the toes tapping. I quite enjoyed this new discovery!

BARENBOIM, Daniel. Sergiu Celibadache/Münchner Phil. (live, 1991)

One of the least effective renderings I’ve ever heard. Stolid, graceless, technically cautious, and emotionally

impassive. Not a single line soars with lyrical grace; the pianism is surprisingly foursquare. The final movement is

very slow, and yes, it is possible to make that work, just listen to Gilels, but both Barenboim and Celibadache seem

completely lethargic, and the orchestra is so relaxed there is no micro-dynamic inflection. I can see why this

performance never got much attention. [CD: EMI 57417]

BIRET, Idil. Antonin Wit/Bilkent Sym. Orch.

This goes right to the bottom of the pile along with Samson Francois as the worst I’ve ever heard. Now, some of the

Naxos releases are truly a great value, and I have many in my collection that I enjoy, including a few (Rachmaninoff)

by Idil Biret. But it’s only a good value if the performance gives the listener a fair idea of what the music’s all about.

Firstly, the orchestra is mediocre and has no refinement whatsoever. Second, her playing is roughhewn and spastic,

there is no continuity of phrasing, and some passages are unbelievably insensitive.


Additionally, I have to ask, what is it that drives this pianist to have such a staggeringly huge repertoire, but really

not to have mastered much of any of it?? If she would cut back to about a third of core pieces that she really

believes in, then I could believe in the legitimacy of her career as a concert artist. “Artist” means more than just

“piano player,” it means you have something of worth to contribute, something that allows the listener to ponder

and explore the depths of the music. Michael Ponti went down the same road, but he really could have been more

successful with a little more focus. If you know a student in search of a budget CD of the Schumann, pay the extra

dollar and get the Lortie on Chandos – now that’s real music.

BOLET, Jorge. Klaus tennstedt/London Phil. Orch. (1984)

BOLET, Jorge. Riccardo Chailly/Berlin Radio Sym. Orch.

This live concert version does not show either participant in the best light. Bolet sounds more labored here than in

the version with Chailly, in fact he can barely skip along at pace without falling on his face. The Chailly version

from roughly the same period fares better overall. Tennstedt seems to have plenty of ideas about this work, but for

every worthwhile nuance brought forward, there are just as many that are clearly misguided and out of balance. I’m

generally a fan of Bolet, and heard him live several times during this period, but it saddened me to hear this release.

[CD: BBC Classics 42512]

The commercial recording from Decca is quite reverberant, yet there is no loss of clarity. Bolet’s Bechstein piano

has a lovely melodic tone and Bolet has the instinct to utilize this strength at every opportunity. Indeed there are

many beautiful and poignant moments throughout the work, one could site the Andante Expressivo from ms. 156-

184 as but one example. Miscalculations are few and minor (the pianistic rejoinder of the melodic phrase from ms.

105-110 emerges too abruptly and forced in comparison to the orchestra or the overall dynamic level). The real issue

at play is that despite all of the intuitive instincts of a great artist, eminently conveyed in live concert even during

his last years, the fact remains that he was probably a few years past his prime condition to commit a reference

quality recording for all posterity. The Berliners and Chailly offer splendid support throughout, but it is Bolet’s

relative lack of energy that fails to fully engage the listener. [CD: Decca 430719]

BRENDEL, Alfred. Claudio Abbado/London Sym. Orch.

BRENDEL, Alfred. Kurt Sanderling/Philharmonia Orch. (1997)

There is a stinginess and unwillingness to project that is not only owing to Brendel. Abbado seems equally reticent

and rarely shapes the orchestral line or allows solo players to project. Whenever the baton is passed over to Brendel

he often dissipates the line of what little energy it may have had. This is fussy and self-conscious music-making.

The final movement is particularly lacking in energy; I kept turning up the volume hoping for more sense of

excitement or involvement, but it just never did engage. While Brendel was active during this time period making

many noteworthy recordings I can see why this one never caught fire. His touch puts a blunt edge to every

articulational figuration, and the final pages are about as dull as I’ve ever heard. This may be your perfect version to

put on in the background while you have your Sunday afternoon tea. [Philips 412251]

When I first listened to later performance with Sanderling I found a little more expressive substance to enjoy. But

as I listened yet again, I kept finding the same limitations that prevented me from really being immersed in the

music. Three things: tendency to dawdle over expressive lines, refusal to ever project a melodic line, plays as if his

fingers are mired in some gummy substance on the piano keys, and that in turn means that his fingerwork never

sparkles in the final movement. Then of course the constant moaning and groaning that are almost as bad as Glenn

Gould. That’s a big distraction. Sanderling gets a warmer more romantic tone from the orchestra than did Abbado,

but it’s Brendel that is the problem here. The companion work, the Fantasy, Opus 17, has a few rapt moments, but

they are too far and few between. The basic assessment on both the concerto and the solo work is: low energy,

doesn’t project lines with soaring passion, everything voiced to the middle. No matter how much I want to find

something to enjoy, those limitations always kill the music for me. [Philips 462321]

CABASSI, Davide. Gustav Kuhn/Haydn Orchestra.

This young Italian pianist has been of some interest to me ever since his appearance at the Van Cliburn

Competition. Sometimes he is raptly communicative, and sometimes very lax and without focus. When I saw this


video posting on YouTube I was hoping for the best, but alas from what I can tell, this doesn’t hit the mark. But to

be honest, this performance, with a rather second-rate ensemble and poor sound quality is hardly the basis to make

a determination of his true potential. But, if I were a concert manager with a major orchestra, this video would not

encourage me to engage this pianist. In between all the coughing, I don’t hear any evidence of careful voice leading

or expressive gesture. The solo work on the disc, Schumann’s Carnaval, is also just another run-through without

any distinctive characteristics. What has happened to all that potential heard at the Van Cliburn? [CD: Col Legno

60017]

CLIBURN, Van. Fritz Reiner/Chicago Sym. Orch. (live, 1960)

CLIBURN, Van. Fritz Reiner/Chicago Sym. Orch. (studio, 1960)

These two versions are nearly identical in timings and conception. I don’t find that the live version is any more

exciting, and the RCA Living Stereo issue definitely has the better sound. Cliburn always had a very natural instinct

for line and proportion and excelled at the grand sweeping gestures of the music. But the finer nuances of touch

and micro-dynamic inflection were never a strength. Those latter characteristics played more into Reiner’s

strengths. You’d think that maybe putting Cliburn together with Reiner you’d somehow get the best of both, but,

alas, this is not so. I find Reiner in a somewhat more relaxed and expansive mode (he was very near the end of his

career) and really on the same page as Cliburn in striving to convey both nobility and humility. Oftentimes, the

result is merely an erstwhile attempt at reverence, but by eschewing any manner of virtuosic ego, or dramatic

passion, much of the vitality of the score is lost. Cliburn was always the gentle giant, and very steady of nerves, the

exact opposite temperament of Schumann’s nervous almost schizoid flitterings. Cliburn turned in some classic

performances, crafting the most noble Tchaikovsky Concerto ever and the most grand-eloquent MacDowell

Concerto, but Schumann was not the best fit for him. [CDs: Testament 21460; RCA Living Stereo]

CORTOT, Alfred. Landon Ronald/Royal Albert Hall Orchestra. (1922)

CORTOT, Alfred. Sir Landon Ronald/London Phil. Orch. (1934)

CORTOT, Alfred. Ferenc Fricsay/RIAS Orchestra, Berlin. (1951)

I remember the day I first played my import pressing (Pathe Marconi) of the famous ’34 performance. It was so

different than the Serkin and Istomin versions I was familiar with. And I just loved the freedom and sweeping

euphoria of the final movement. In some ways I’m saddened that I can no longer listen with such innocent ears,

and to take things for what they are (rather than comparing them in a survey with some ninety other

performances). But, before re-visiting this performance, I had also just discovered the Emil von Sauer recording

with Mengelberg, and among historic performances of note, that performance now has my utmost enthusiasm. As

for the Cortot version, we already begin to hear some really eccentric indulgences which are to go full-blown in the

’51 performance. Cortot plays a low E octave with the orchestra on the first note of the concerto, and thundering

low octaves abound. But beyond all that, what I hear that is so engaging are the moments of dreamlike stasis such

as the Andante expressive, which also sees some wonderfully transporting playing from the orchestra. The

Intermezzo is at times strange, like walking around at a carnival, but the finale really takes to joyous flight. Bravo to

Naxos for making this performance (and the fine historical sound mastering) available at such a budget price.

The 1922 recording is so ancient it is hardly listenable even for study purposes. While Cortot’s technique is cleaner

and more accurate than the ’34 performance, the same eccentric touches are already in evidence, and the orchestra

sounds hardly any better than some high school ensembles I’ve heard. Pass on this one.

The 1951 performance is a sad travesty. In the very opening salvo, once he starts hitting wrong notes, he just slows

the tempo down to a largo and pretends the gravitas was intended all along. Tempos are erratic and change

abruptly; what a challenge for the conductor! Of course, low grumbling fists full of chords abound everywhere, as if

a little extra sonority makes the music deeper and more profound. At one point, ms. 503 of the first movement, the

tempo comes to an actual stop, then lunges to finish line presto movimento! This is just utter nonsense. I can only

imagine what the conductor and everyone present must have been thinking. This is not just the playing of an elder

pianist beyond his prime, this veers into dark recesses of the mind that are normally only accessible by opium or

absinthe (again, just my own imagination). In other words, there seems to be no anchor to reality at all, much the

same way that Pogorelic has gone. I think it is cruel to his memory to even have access to this kind of warped

performance.


COSTA, Sequeira. Stephen Gunzenhauser/Gulbenkian Orchestra (Portugal).

I have a disc of Ives music that I’ve enjoyed when the ensemble was under the direction of Michel Swierczewski and

released on the Nimbus label. I don’t find the playing on this disc to be quite at that level, and Sequeira Costa is

hardly the pianist you’d chose to make a stab at a legendary performance. Yes, the performance is overall better

than the resoundingly poor Biret/Wit performance, also on Naxos, but I have to wonder if Naxos simply buys the

rights to concert recordings that have been rejected by everybody else. I welcome rebuttal from Naxos, because

frankly, I’m getting tired of having to sit through recordings of such low standards. Okay, I’ll concede that Naxos

has done a valuable service in making historical performances available in first-rate sound transfers at budget

prices, when for years this was the exclusive domain of specialty labels charging an arm and a leg. So, let’s just focus

on the Schumann…

The opening salvo demonstrates right off that this piano has a thin and shrill tone when played forte. That’s no

fault of the pianist, except that he agreed to play on such an instrument. Coming up next, why the flippant phrasing

in the oboe? Was this condoned by the conductor? The cadenza is disjointed and the chordal section is rather

clattery (again, reflecting the choice of piano). The Intermezzo attempts some cute and coy interplay, but others

have been more convincing in this approach. The Allegro vivace is the most successful of the three movements, in

that there are no major negative distractions, but it is hardly a toe-tapper. The companion pieces on the disc are

not nearly as compelling as the recent performances by Angela Hewitt on Hyperion, although the balance of Opus

92 is different enough from the Hewitt, that I was engaged throughout. Nevertheless, even at a budget price, I can’t

really recommend this release. Perhaps they should forego the mainstream work and just release the minor works

with some other interesting pairings? [CD; Naxos 8571060]

DALBERTO, Michel. Eliahu Inbal/Vienna Sym. Orch. (1992)

Clean and efficient, refined to the point where nothing is brusque or unseemly, but anything deeper beneath the

surface remains elusive. Perfectly suitable for a concert run-through, nobody would be displeased – but in a catalog

full of legendary performances, this release doesn’t make any sense. [CD: Denon 75859]

FISCHER, Annie. Joseph Keilberth/Kölner Rundfunk. (1958)

The Cologne radio broadcasts of this time turned out some surprisingly good recordings. I’m thinking of the ’53

Gieseking Beethoven Fourth with Gieseking and Keilberth, and this recording is both smooth and vivid in presence

and details. The performance is good but not among the greats. I find the ’58 Hess, or ’51 Gieseking more

noteworthy. The final Allegro vivace is taken at a relatively cautious tempo but her articulation is emphatic enough

to convey a sense of energy. Bolet tried this same trick in his ’84 perfromance with Tennstedt but he didn’t pull it

off as well as Fischer. I’m happy I had a chance to hear this, but once was enough. [ICA Classics 5062]

FRAGER, Malcolm. Jascha Horenstein/Royal Philharmonic Orch. (1967)

FRAGER, Malcolm. Rudolf Kempe/Staatskapelle Dresden (1969)

Neither of these performances have enough of the qualities I look for in a reference recording, but they both have

enough individualism that I derived some enjoyment from them. In the Dresden performance the first movement

falls right to the center line between romantic ardour (Perahia/Abbado or Kissin/Davis) and classical restraint

(Lipatti or Andsnes). The playing is clean and forward moving, but hardly as propulsive or energizing as Argerich.

The second movement is the real highlight here, as the soloist and orchestra jointly tell a story of bemused

reminiscence. The final Allegro vivace has a gentle lilt to it, but is overall rather understated. [CD: Profil 08053]

The version with Horenstein is available on a Chesky remaster. Tempos are a bit brisker, but the overall

conception is very much the same, which is to say rather polite and in the arm-chair school of romanticism.

Horenstein gives his tuttis a little more punch than Kempe, but it’s still not enough to light the fire. [CD: Chesky 52]

FRANÇOIS, Samson. Carlo Maria Giulini/Orch. Nat’l. Paris. (1959)

For many years I was a big fan of Francois. I owned dozens of imported LPs and listened to them often. Back then

nobody else I knew at music school had even heard of him. But recently I’ve come across a couple of terrible


performances that have forced me to consider that Francois must have been a very narcissistic personality and

certainly undisciplined in his musicianship. This performance is one of the worst of the worst. Jeez! His approach

here is the exact opposite of Argerich, in other words, he dawdles and lingers over every phrase, and even short

eight measure segments are completely incoherent. The final movement shows all too obviously that he has

followed Cortot’s example a little too closely and was in desperate need of a few hours practice to clean up all the

fudged passagework. As if that is bad enough, the orchestra is just God awful. Squawks and squeeks and blurps

abound, to say nothing of basic intonation. All, in all, of however many versions I’ve evaluated in this survey (close

to 90) this goes right to last place. [CD: Archipel 0533]

FRANTZ, Justus. Leonard Bernstein/Vienna Phil. Orch.

Under the mentorship of Bernstein, Franz’ career took off briefly. When the old master died, so did the record

contracts, and from what I can determine Frantz took up quiet residency with the Schleswig-Holstein Festival. I

have never been taken with his interpretive manner, his Brahms Ballades were slow to the point of perversion, and

the Schumann here also suffers from fire and metric pulse. Bernstein and the Vienna ensemble provide colorful

backdrop, but the whole conception of of tempo and energy is off. Not recommended. [CD: DG 415-358]

FREIRE, Nelson. Claus Peter Flor/Rotterdam Phil. (2011)

Taken from a live televised concert. Friere makes every attempt to provide sensible, chamber-music like delivery,

and eschews overt virtuosic bombast. Evidence of this can be found right from the start with the delicate and

sensitively rendered piano solo, and then again in measures 39-41 where he reigns in the Hamburg Steinway’s

potential for bowldering bass octaves. There are a few minor miscalculations, mostly voice-leading and ensemble

balance that are typical of live concert performances. In measures 87-91 the score indicates that the left hand

should somewhat follow the right hand as an echo of the thematic progression, but Friere sees this as an indication

for a full blown cross-accent, downplaying the primary line and giving firm emphasis on the syncopated left hand

notes. The trouble is, to the listener this may be perceived as a flaw in the performance, with the piano and

orchestra are out of sync. Most pianists just ignore the differences, others emphasis only the right hand lead, others

(such as Michelangeli) bring out both voices equally to great effect, but Freiere is the only one to emphasize only

the off-beat note and I don’t believe that is the smartest option. As I said, there are several such miscalculations

throughout but the main issue with this performance is that everybody is so reticent that the entire performance

dissipates into a non-event. The conductor hardly lifts a hand, and everybody seems quite relaxed. That would be

fine if the overall conception was based on intimate poetry and brooding rumination, but the overall feel is for

emotionally neutrality and a concert run-thru that is simply too low on energy to take flight. [YouTube video, also

available as an MP3 download]

GIESEKING, Walter. Karl Böhm/Dresden State Orchestra. (1940)

GIESEKING, Walter. Wilhelm Furtwangler/Berlin Phil. Orch. (1942)

GIESEKING, Walter. Günter Wand/Kölner Rundfunk (1951) Recommended

There has always been a lot of hype among collectors concerning the earlier Gieseking perfromances, but it is the

amazing ’51 performance that everybody should be talking about. But first things first. The 1940 perfromance is

available on an inexpensive Naxos historical release, and the sound has been cleaned up as much as possible by

producer Ward Marston. Even so, you won’t hear all the delicious nuances of touch and tone that are more readily

recognized on the superior sounding ’51 recording. But the performance itself is not that distinguished. Sure it is

tauter in line and is more tightly coiled than the ’51 but many of the later felicities are simply played right over. The

Intermezzo is surprisingly slow and stolid, and the finale is technically clean and transparent, but lacks that relaxed

elan that makes the ’51 so compelling.

The ’42 performance has been around on many different labels, and in varying degrees of sound quality. My own

CD doesn’t have very good sound, but I was really stunned by the quality of a 2012 restoration by Rudolf Ondrich as

posted on YouTube. But again, leaving aside questions of sound, I still find the performance less worthy of

accolades than the ’51 version. First off, Gieseking is not always in best form here, compared to the ’40 and the ‘51,

and then there is the issue of the orchestra. These were some rough years for the Berlin Phil after they lost some of

their key players, and ensemble is pretty bad. Even beyond all that, Furtwangler was clearly not very focused and


doesn’t help to elevate the orchestra’s contribution. If you want to hear inspired wartime conducting just listen to

Mengelberg in Amsterdam for his 1940 collaboration with Emil von Sauer. By comparison, Furtwangler sounds

completely pedestrian here.

Now, the performance that I count among my personal favorites: the 1951 live radio broadcast with Günter Wand

and the Cologne Radio Sym. Orch. Those who know and love the manner Geza Anda had with this work will

recognize many similar attributes here. But Gieseking has so much more color and texture, always clean and

elegant and wonderfully limpid. Not overly driven by metric impulse, yet utterly compelling in its engaging spirit.

The finale has a relaxed élan that comes from a technique so formidable that even the trickiest passages are imbued

with color and nuance, sometimes soaring in legato, other times with that inimitable jeu perle (amazing wrist

technique!). This is a must-have for any serious collector or aspiring pianist, and not only for the Schumann, but for

an absolutely wonderful performance of the Beethoven Fourth with Keilberth from 1953. I don’t know about other

listeners, but I have never enjoyed having the Grieg and Schumann paired together. They are just so different, and I

have to be in a special mood to enjoy the folksy Norwegian work. But the Schumann and Beethoven Fourth

together make for a delightful sitting. Available at mid-price on Medici 0172.

GILELS, Emil. Vladimir Verbitsky/USSR State Sym. Orch., Moscow. (1969)

From a live concert performance in the great hall of the Moscow Conservatory, the video quality is not that great,

and the audio track has a good amount of hiss. The tempos in each movement are rather atypical from what is

usually heard, although they do come close to the tempos suggested in the Clara Schumann Edition. But I urge an

open mind, because there is a wealth of musical wisdom in this performance. The slow tempo of the first

movement is the hardest to get used to, but Gilels’ tone is fulsome without being forced, and projects wonderfully in

the Andante espressivo. The cadenza demonstrates superb voice leading, and he is one of the very few in this

survey who recognizes measure 451 as the proper peak of the cadenza. One of the half dozen best in the cadenza,

I’d say. Interesting that he doesn’t play the final chord at the conclusion of the movement, a strange V-I-V and then

let the orchestra finish. Doesn’t bother me, but something like that is obviously not a memory lapse, it had to be an

interpretive decision.

The second movement is the most unusual in tempo. It is so brisk the Intermezzo grazioso sounds more like a

Scherzando. But the metronome marks are close to Clara’s own performance suggestions. In its own way it works.

Measures 30-69 have a dynamic arch that rise slowly and then taper back.

The final movement is very slow and measured. If you haven’t just listened to another performance it will probably

not be as jarring as it was for me at first taking. Lovely piano tone that somehow projects over the orchestra

without any sense of being forced or harsh. Nice give and take between piano and orchestra. An interesting blend

of overall architecture and small details. Because it is so different in conception, I didn’t list it among my top

recommendations (it runs a full two minutes longer than most performances), but I did enjoy the performance and

will no doubt revisit it again in the future. Aspiring pianists should make an effort to study this video, and to see

how the great master’s thick paws coax out such lovely tone! [Video: VAI Classics]

GRIMAUD, Hélène. David Zinman/Deutsches Sym. Orch. Berlin (1995)

GRIMAUD, Hélène. Esa-Pekka Salonen/Staatskapelle Dresden. (2005)

Just listening as background music it’s all pleasant enough, there is nothing jarringly out of place, and no manic

craziness in the cadenza. But careful listening reveals several characteristics of Grimaud’s playing that are less than

satisfying. First off, she doesn’t let the piano sing forth. Secondly, there are moments of halting and lurching in

solo passages that are evidently some sort of attempt at expressive rubato. A successful moment occurs in the

Andante espressivo where she plays in a sort of suspended mono-dynamic stasis which allows Zinman to bring forth

some expressive playing from the orchestra. For the most part Zinman doesn’t get in the way or really add much

either. Much of figurations that occupy the pianist page after page are too chiseled, like Grimaud wants every note

to register, but really this is mostly textural filler where the pianist should just ripple along while thematic ideas are

conveyed by the orchestra. This is even more bothersome in the second movement where she lays down every

insignificant figuration with a solidity of tone that really needs to be backed off a bit. The final movement is where

the passagework should be more chiseled but much of the articulations lack clarity. As for the companion piece,


I’ve never been a big fan of the Richard Strauss Burleske, and this performance does nothing to change my mind.

Someday I’ll need to thin out my collection, and this CD will be one to go. [CD: Erato 11727]

The new performance with Salonen has garnered a lot of attention from the press. I kind of wish I had approached

this performance from the audio-only CD, rather than the video, because I find her hamming poses extremely

annoying. She’s always looking around and smiling at the conductor or players at seemingly incongruous moments

of musical expression, like when the music is pensive and in minor key. I’ve seen the video of her Berlin solo recital

with the Bach-Busoni Chaconne, and her body language and expressions seemed to fit the music. But all these films

and concept albums and glam photos seem to be going in a direction that I don’t care for, but hey, maybe that’s how

you have to market classical music nowadays. All that aside, the performance does have a lot of expressive nuance

and felicities of phrase, and is overall, vastly superior to the earlier version. The final movement is lightweight, yet

carefully crafted for many subtle details of texture and tone. The other works on this “concept” album do not seem

like ideal companions to me, but maybe it works for other listeners. Anyway, I’ll keep this one. [CD: DG 4775719]

GRŐSCHEL, Ernst. Hanspeter Gmür/Norddeutsche Phil.

Just another odd-ball CD I found in my collection. Certainly not a serious contender with a provincial orchestra and

unknown pianist, and the recording is quite dry, with microphones putting the piano way up front and the strings

more distant. Anyway, it’s actually not as bad as some others, and the first two movements are decent. However,

the final movement sounds like a practice tempo (even slower than Gilels) yet much of the passagework sounds

awkward and the ending is like a ride on a bumpy roller coaster. [CD: Point Classics 267148]

HASKIL, Clara. Ernest Ansermet/Orch. De Suisse Romande. (1956)

The opening salvo is very sluggish and lacking energy, and the slowish tempo that ensues proves to be a long haul.

The conception is very straight-forward, just lacking for energy. The final movement finds the pianist even more

tired, and the orchestra does everything possible to enliven the performance, but it’s not enough to keep this

sinking boat afloat. The dated sound is thin and hissy. I’m not sure who would get anything out of listening to this.

The pianist is obviously past her prime here. [CD: Andromeda 9058]

HELMCHEN, Martin. Marc Albrecht/Strasbourg Phil. Orch. (2009)

The first movement is reserved and introspective in nature, with very little romantic passion in evidence. Not only

that but poor microphone placement captures a lot of damper zing (as the dampers lift off the strings) and pedal

thumping. You can’t just put high quality audio equipment anywhere and expect the best sound. The Intermezzo is

straight-forward and very understated. The final Allegro vivace combines a slow practice tempo with very

exaggerated articulation and agogics. The result is very eccentric and contrived, even silly; not at all natural. The

companion work, the Dvorak Concerto, is lacking sparkle and energy. No thanks. [SACD: Pentatone 186333]

HESS, Dame Myra. Walter Goehr/London Sym. Orch. (1937)

HESS, Dame Myra. Rudolph Schwarz/The Philharmonia Orch. (1952)

HESS, Dame Myra. Eduard van Beinum/Concertgebouw Amsterdam. (1956)

HESS, Dame Myra. Sir Malcolm Sargent/BBC Sym. Orch. (1958)

Two of these performances warrant some attention. First, to dismiss the non-starters. The earliest recording from

1937 has the kind of compressed “canned music” sound that I cannot abide. I don’t understand why some

recordings have this and others from the same period don’t (the ’34 Cortot is fine, the ’40 Von Sauer/Mengelberg is

fine, to mention two worthy historic performances). The reeds sound pinched, and the strings sound as if playing

into a tin can. The piano sound itself is not so bad, but unfortunately this is by far the worst rendering I’ve ever

heard from Hess. There is absolutely no indication of the greatness and poised artistry that was to come later.

From the awkward opening that seems to catch her off guard (are we recording now?), to the dreamy, incoherent

solo that takes us on a foray into La-La Land, this performance doesn’t even deserve serious discussion here. [CD:

Naxos 811060]


The classic 1952 performance on EMI has long been in my collection, yet I rarely play it. Now, after hearing all of

her performances in comparison with each other I see the reason: here she is certainly a very assured soloist, and

she has a firm, take-charge command, but this often devolves into stiff and stolid playing, especially in the finale.

The 1956 van Beinum performance is new to me (available on the Tahra label), but there was much to enjoy here,

especially the first two movements. The conductor gets especially lovely results from the woodwinds (now who after

hearing such beauty would want to go back and listen to the horrible woodwinds in the ’37 recording??), and

throughout he seems to inspire a more poetic tendency in Hess. This approach is certainly quite different from the

’52 performance. Her solo work is very communicative, and taps into a deep, timeless espiranto. Alas, the rapt

mood seems to dissipate in the final movement which ends in a rather lackluster fashion. Even so, I’ll be playing the

first two movements often.

The overall winner is the ’58 performance with the BBC, which was almost included on my list of recommended

historic recordings. The overall concept falls somewhere between the ’52 and the ’56 performances. This rendering

is deeper toned than either, and actually brings Claudio Arrau to mind. She emphasizes the bass range more and

creates a really brooding and pensive mood, this in stark contrast to Anda and Geiseking and others of this era. She

has a way of doing the turn in measure 16 so that it doesn’t sound flippant (or Mozartean like Lipatti) but seems

deeply anchored and purposeful. Very much the opposite of her ’37 daydreaming. Throughout, there is nary a

moment of frivolity, everything is conveyed with nobility and deep “morality.” Sargent keeps the troops in proper

formation (I couldn’t resist) with just enough metric propulsion to keep the proceedings apace. The final movement

is really a joyous affair, the pianist’s paean soars like the Meistersinger’s exalted lied. Obviously I much enjoyed this

performance, and believe it shows the best aspects of Myra Hess’ artistry. [CD: BBC Legends 41782]

HEWITT, Angela. Hannu Lintu/Deutsches Sym. Orch., Berlin. (2010) Highly Recommended

This was a pleasant surprise for me, though maybe not so surprising to her many fans. Well, first off, the recorded

sound is absolutely beautiful and nearly ideal in its balance between piano and orchestra. The piano is also superbly

voiced. As for the performance, Hewitt is remarkable in every regard, from the nearly ideal opening (so easy to be

overblown or distorted) to the shape of long lines, to the smallest expressive nuance (measure 16: a subito piano!),

and the orchestra seems to be fully engaged, eagerly anticipating and continuing her every motion. The second

movement is really quite special because of this strong rapport. The final movement is delightful and gracious, with

an almost Chopinesque lightness. About the only thing less than perfect was a brief episode of hesitation in the

orchestra in measures 16-25 where the violins have a whispy, skittery tone that really needed some more weight on

the bow (there was no threat of imbalance against the pianist).

The accompanying works on this disc are the relatively minor works Opus 92 and Opus 134, which are now my new

reference recordings for these works. I used to sort of ignore these works, but they really sound so much more

compelling with this ensemble that I’m sure I’ll be playing them often. Highly recommended! [CD: Hyperion

67885]

HOFMANN, Josef. Donald Voorhees/Bell Telephone Hour Orchestra. (1946)

This was an oddity I discovered posted on YouTube as I was completing my comparative survey. Taken from a live

radio broadcast, it certainly ranks among the weirdest entries. Generally, I find Hofmann’s recordings interesting,

even when they seem to verge of DePachmann-like indulgence (the ending of the Chopin Berceuse!), but this seems

to go beyond expressive liberties and seems so disjointed that I wonder if he was on some kind of medication. We

also know as a fact, that Hofmann succumbed to alcoholism in his later years, and combing that with his

deteriorating technique may be why this performance sounds as it does. In any case, I didn’t find a single thing

worth serious discussion here, and for me, once was enough. [YouTube posting, available on Marston CD 52037]

ISTOMIN, Eugene. Bruno Walter/Columbia Sym. Orch. (1960)

An invigoratingly brisk performance, surprisingly concertante given Istomin reputation primarily as a chamber

music pianist. His cadenza is well-crafted, and in ms. 426-433 (not the most effective writing for piano) is perhaps

the cleanest I’ve heard, where others tend to be rather muddy from too much pedal. The second movement sees

some expressive range from the orchestra, but Istomin is too wide awake, like the child at bedtime who is just too


wired to drift off to sleep. Walter sculpts many dynamic layers, yet Istomin plays the same way each time. The final

movement is somewhat middle-of-the road, and certainly doesn’t stand up to either the ’74 Argerich or the ’60

Backhaus which I listened to earlier in the day.

The re-mastered sound on the Sony 64489 CD is smooth yet vivid. This didn’t make it to my list of top

recommendations, primarily because the propulsive urgency does at times detract from the more ruminative

episodes, but it is certainly better than the majority of performances surveyed.

JANDÓ, Jeno. András Ligeti/Budapest Sym. Orch.

This makes the third Schumann Concerto release from Naxos that I cannot recommend. About the only thing

positive I can say is that it is better than the Biret version, which is really bottom of the barrel. The concerto

performance is competent but hardly inspiring, and the two companion works, the relatively minor Opus 92 and

Opus 134 really have poorly balanced ensemble (or microphone placement, or both). Even at a budget price, I can’t

recommend this at all. [CD: Naxos 8557547]

JANIS, Byron. Stanislaw Skrowaczewski/Minneapolis Sym. Orch. (1962)

I almost forgot about this one because I keep my CD with the other Tchaikovsky Piano Concertos. The reason is

course, I find Janis’ performance of the Tchaikovsky more noteworthy than his Schumann. I wanted to like this

more because Janis tells some interesting stories of playing The Schumann on his first tour to the USSR. The

playing here can be somewhat brusque, and more vehement passages tend to be under-pedaled and rather abrasive

and even bludgeoning for it (the wooly piano and dryish acoustics are also not sympathetic to this kind of playing,

whereas in the great hall of the Moscow Conservatory it probably worked just fine). But there’s no question that the

expressive passages are lovely. Too bad the orchestra isn’t any better; the woodwinds in particular do not have very

good intonation. [CD: Mercury 432011]

I recently saw online all of Janis Mercury recording as a box set for only $15.00 on the Brilliant Classics label. What’s

up with that? Pirate? If this is a legitimate deal such a box set would make a great gift for the aspiring pianist (the

Schumann is probably the only weak link, everything else ranges from very good to stunning).

KEMPFF, Wilhelm. Rafael Kubelik/Bavarian Radio Sym. Orch. (1973)

Opening salvo is jerky in phrasing and dry in tone. Throughout Kempff plays with little or no pedal, almost always

non-legato, and rarely sings the melodic line. Who knows what his physical condition was when he was playing,

but even the simplest non-demanding melodic lines fail to project any energy at all. His take is like a gentle,

carefree stroll through the flower garden. Kubelik does his best to insure the orchestra plays as softly as possible

during Kempff’s private reveries. Not recommended.

KISSIN, Evgeny. Carlo Maria Giulini/Winer Philharmoniker (1992)

KISSIN, Evgeny. Sir Colin Davis (2006) Highly Recommended

The earlier recording shows an eager but inexperienced Kissin at odds with a conductor whose approach is

inherently different. The same problem happened when the young Pollini got together with Giulini in Vienna in

1974. Giulini is inherently a deeply romantic conductor, who prefers to soften any angularity in the music. You

don’t put that kind of conductor together with a young pup who is straining on the leash. The two fare best in the

finale, where Giulini loosens the leash and lets the young virtuoso strut his dazzling fingerwork. The disc is still

well worth owning simply for the incredible solo works – Grieg and Schubert transcriptions. Perhaps those will

appear someday in a version with more compelling material than this Schumann Concerto.

Fourteen years later and much more experienced, Kissin has found a kindred spirit in Sir Colin Davis, and the two

have pulled off one of the finest renderings I’ve heard. Nearly everything about this performance is ideal, and not

just in the expected areas that experienced listeners (or reviewers) would look for, but in offering new insights and

distinctions that set it apart from over eighty other versions I’ve evaluated. It’s not just Kissin’s insights into details,

but also Sir Colin Davis. In the Schumann Concerto this conductor has worked and recorded with so many pianists


over the decades, the standouts including Arrau, Kovacevich and Perahia, that he has a perfectly honed sense of

what works, how to bring out expressive nuances in the orchestra, and above all how to insure that the piano and

orchestra work as one. I talk about many of these felicities in the analytical section. But the main thing here would

be to characterize the overall impression of this performance. In the first movement there is a deep thoughtfulness

and seriousness of purpose that nonetheless never bogs down under excessive gravitas. The piano is always, shall

we say, firm (the opposite of Grimaud’s wilting flower),, the piano work is here hiso me this is much deeper music

making than the Andsnes or Grimaud versions the ne

KOVACEVICH, Stephen. Colin Davis/BBC Orch. (1972)

Although I have much enjoyed Kovacevich’ Beethoven Third from this period, I find that his interpretive and

pianistic style is less suited to Schumann. Kovacevich tends to favor a big-boned, broad-outlined approach that

often blunts any micro-dynamic nuance. And forget any variety of articulation or tone color. He tends to be abrupt

and blustery in louder passages, and during quiet episodes both he and the conductor have the irritating tendency

to remain at a mono-dynamic level rather than let each phrase rise and fall with natural expression. The Allegro

vivace has no metric spring, and lacks for any articulational clarity. The one positive thing I enjoyed from this

performance was actually the Intermezzo movement. Somehow both pianist and conductor conveyed a most

effective sense of languor and even coy innuendo. I may very well revisit this performance just for the second

movement. But as an overall recommendation, no. [CD: Philips 464702]

LIPATTI, Dinu. Herbert von Karajan/Philharmonia Orch. (1948)

I know many collectors often name Lipatti among the greats, but I have to confess that I’ve not enjoyed many of his

recordings (the one exception is a raptly poignant Chopin Nocturne in D-flat). I once read an essay (I can’t put my

hands on it right now to site the author) that described the musical temperaments of many of the post-war

musicians. What happened was that there was a backlash against overt emotional display and individual

idiosyncrasies. Basically, many musicians were emotionally numbed by the events of the war and the Holocaust and

the dawn of the Atomic Age. They looked to the sanctity of the printed score as if it were the writ of God. Lipatti

was a pianist par excellence of this more restrained manifesto, made all the more effective because of his limpid and

elegant tone. However, in this recording, with distant microphone placement and a recessed bass range that saps

all warmth, it is hard to hear any evidence of his tone. But thin, dated sound aside, I find the restrained classicism

of this interpretation completely wrong for Schumann. Leif Ove Andsnes has recently made a recording of the

Schumann much in this same Classical style, and many reviewers have sung its praises (Penguin gave it a Rosette).

But I believe this goes beyond consideration for latitude in interpretive differences. I might also find Glenn Gould’s

Brahms Concerto an interesting performance, but I recognize that it is an inherently inauthentic (stylistically

incorrect) performance. Schumann was the archtype Romantic era composer, and took music beyond the

suggestive winks and nods and allusions of Haydn and Mozart’s time frame. It’s okay if you enjoy this more pristine

and emotionally narrow rendition (whether innocently or perversely), just recognize that it has nothing to do with

Schumann. [CD; EMI 5677742]

LORTIE, Louis. Neemi Jarvi/Philharmonia Orch. Piano Enthusiast Budget Pick

This is the kind of performance that seems to appeal to a wide range of listeners. It balances physical energy and

powtic expression, logical in the long line, yet seemingly free and spontaneous in the details. You can find

perfromaers who veer more to one direction or the other, Argerich, for example, is more driven and propulsive (to

the point of being manic), or Rubinstein is bigger boned, or Grimaud is more delicate, yet finding a balanced

approach that seems to keep everybody happy doesn’t happen that often. Jarvi tends to favor solid orchestral

voicings, the very opening phrase for example, doesn’t give emphasis to the top line oboe, but balances the

ensemble equally. He could have allowed more expressive instrumental lines in the Andante espressivo, but at all

times the orchestra balances well with the soloist.

The Intermezzo grazioso is nicely done, in the first three measures as the piano passes the baton to the orchestra,

they seem to bloom and build on the piano’s idea, like in a conversation where one person finishes the other’s

thought with even greater enthusiasm. I always enjoy this movement when such great rapport is in evidence,

otherwise, it can often just sound like notes. It sure sounds like everybody was really into it.


The Allegro vivace also comes of quite successfully. Key points are well anchored in the bass, while upper

figurations are clear and well-shaped. Plenty of energy without being blustery or over-driven. The overall feel is of

carefree happiness with a fist-pumping victorious end. I’ve had the full-price disc in my collection for some time,

but this performance is now available at the budget price level ($10 or less), and comes with the Chopin F-minor

Concerto (which is good but not quite as compelling as the Schumann). I’d file it under Schumann so you grab it

whenever you’re in the mood for an uplifting performance. [CD: Chandos 10603]

LUPU, Radu. Andre Previn/London Sym. Orch.

I have all of Lupu’s recordings and most of them rank very highly in my opinion, but I always did think the

Schumann was a bit lackluster. I once saw a televised concert of Lupu playing the Schumann Concerto in a

performance that I found was more effective than this one (alas, I can’t remember the details, but I believe it was a

continental orchestra, not British). Part of the blame here is Previn, who really does not shape or give impetus to the

orchestral contribution (and yet this same conductor can raise the roof with the Shostakovitch Symphony No. 8 – so

why so passive here??). I also found the playing of the orchestra a bit sub-standard, even wheezy in a few places.

Lupu himself, does nothing wrong, of course, but this is just one of those middle-of-the-road approaches that seems

to lack personal connection. Maybe it was more convincing to see his body language while playing this, and maybe

that’s why I liked the video performance better. [CD: Decca 417728]

MARGALIT, Israela. Bryden Thomson/London Sym. Orch.

This performance swings between extrovert command and introvert expression. Any more extreme and the

performance would be faulted as incohesive, but this works well enough because each of these swings is done with

such conviction and naturalness. The performance begins with a commanding, take-no-prisoners salvo that bristles

the senses and energizes the listener. Then the poetic side emerges in the first solo passage (measures 12-19) which

are dreamy and reflective, and latent with innocent wonderment, yet musically, each phrase and articulation is done

with refinement and purpose and not just spontaneous whimsy. The cadenza is not one of the very best I’ve heard,

but it is more cohesive than renderings by more famous pianists. The second and third movement are enjoyable, if

not in the very top class.

The only real drawback for me was the sound, which to my taste has too much reverberation, and somewhat distant

microphones that rob the music of some of its presence in the more intimate sections. If you have very focused

British-style mini-monitor speakers, then this sound will be fine, if you have wide-dispersion American-style

speakers, or any kind of planar speakers (as I do) then you’ll find the reverberant tail and distant soundstage less

than ideal.

Even so, I’m enthusiastic about this release because it is a two disc set available for under $12, and some of the other

companion works are even better than the Schumann. The Saint-Saens Second is very good, and if you look at my

comparative survey on the Brahms First Concerto you will see that this Margalit/Thomson disc gets my top pick for

budget recommendation (what a finale!). The real key is, even though I can pull my top recommendations off the

shelf whenever I want, I still enjoy giving these performances some play time. It could be there is more going on at

a subliminal level that I just haven’t put my finger on. No doubt about it, these are solid performances offered at a

very fair price, and are certainly to be much preferred over the various Naxos releases by Biret, Costa, or Jando. Give

this 2-CD set as a gift to an aspiring young pianist, or enjoy it yourself, as I do. [2-CD: Chandos 6621]

MARSHEV, Oleg. Vladimir Ziva/South Jutland Sym. Orch.

Oleg Marshev’s career started out promising, with an exceptional set of discs covering the complete piano music of

Prokofiev. I heard him live at a competition once and was impressed with his drive and flare for dramatic gesture.

Then a few years passed and I heard him again and it was as if a totally different, and disinterested pianist sat on the

stage. I have subsequently purchased a dozen different discs, some of value as obscure repertoire, but increasingly, I

find these releases sub-standard. The conditions of this recording would challenge even the most legendary pianists

to make fine music. The orchestra is very mediocre – third rate at best. The piano is clangorous and poorly voiced –

really almost unlistenable. It would be difficult to find inspiration under such circumstances. Nevertheless, this

release has been put out at full price against a catalog of legendary performances. The only possible justification


would be for the companion work, the Konzertsatz by Clara Wieck Schumann. But they should have just skipped

the mainstream work and included some other obscure work, perhaps Fanny Mendelssohn or Henselt or

something. [CD: Danacord 688]

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Antonio Pedrotti/La Scala Orch., Milano. (1942)

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Dmitri Mitropolous/New York Phil. (1948)

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Witold Rowicki/Warsaw Phil. Orch. (1955)

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Hermann Scherchen/Orch. Svizzera Italiana. (1956)

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Massimo Freccia/Rome Radio. (1962)

MICHELANGELI, Arturo Benedetti. Sergiu Celibadache/Swedish RSO, Stockholm. (1967)

As far as I know Michelangeli never recorded this work commercially. What we have are six live broadcast tapes of

very poor quality. Five of these performances may be readily dismissed, but the performance with Celibadache is

quite magical, and really deserves a better sounding release. Perhaps Rudolf Ondrich can work his re-mastering

magic on this one.

The ’42 La Scala has atrocious sound, and even under the best modern circumstances, La Scala’s acoustics are hardly

ideal for orchestral music, even as scaled down as this bare-bones (wartime) ensemble is. Michelangeli floats his

melodic lines with a beautiful legato, but even that is not enough to make this a worthwhile listen.

The ’47 Mitropolous is an adrenalin rush that serves as the prototype for Argerich’s high-octane renderings. ABM

must have been on a caffeine and nicotine high because there is very little nuance to this performance. There are

lots of low octaves a la Cortot, and chords are filled in or played an octave lower. All in all, a very free wheeling

romp. The sound is very shrill and nearly unlistenable, in part due to the master tape being a quarter tone sharp in

pitch (there’s no way they would have been tuning to A-455). [CD: AS Disc 321]

The ’56 Scherchen seems to be in neutral gear, there is neither the excitement of the Mitropolous nor the

refinement and characterization of the Celibadache. Tone and dynamics are one-dimensional, and Scherchen is no

match for Celibadache, to say the least. [CD: Andromeda 2503] The ’55 Rowicki is similar in conception to the ’56

Scherchen but with worse sound. [CD: Melodram 28019]

The ’62 Freccia is another horrible sounding recording, with thumping, wooly bass sound like somebody turned up

the bass control on some primitive EQ device. It is impossible to judge the pianist’s tone, or even the true balance

of the ensemble, one can only listen for a sense of timing and rubato. [CD: Emozioni 2003]

The ’67 Celibadache is a completely unique and quite magical performance. Completely unique in these two do

things nobody else has ever done, which on the surface of it may seem extravagant and self-indulgant, yet create a

spellbinding enchantment that is unforgettable. Measures 47-58 are played in like cresting waves in the leading

hand and smaller riplets in the following hand. Celi provides some magic of his own, the transition at measures 150-

155 are especially effective. The cadenza is really way out in left field (even compared to his other versions) it seems

to struggle (not technically, of course, this is ABM!) psychologically with hesitant fits and starts and ruminative

digressions, but progressively builds more and more vigor. The left hand accompaniment after the cadenza is

usually just so much noodling and soft pedaling until the final eruptive arpeggio and cadence, but Michelangeli

gooses the octaves, not sharply or with metric drive, but more with an inward confidence that seems to signal to the

listener that all the ruminative self-doubts are a thing of the past.

The second movement is also, completely different from anything else I’ve ever heard. Measure 62-69 seem to come

to a near complete standstill, like time itself is suspended. Both Pianist and conductor are completely and almost

uncannily in sync with the mood they are creating. The final movement abounds with delicious nuances in touch

and texture. Measures 679-686 have a wonderful lilt, that makes my body tilt because it is every so slightly tapping

the brakes on the overall driving rhythm. All these things are rendered completely naturally, as if that’s the way it

was supposed to be all along.

As I said, the drawback to this recording is the poor sound, which has lots of hiss, distant microphone placement

and resulting lack of depth in the lower half of the keyboard. Nevertheless, every aspiring pianist should at least


hear this once, to see the far fringes of what are possible, that sound like real music (and not like Gould playing the

Brahms Concerto, for example.) Let’s hope for a superior sounding release someday. [CD: Arkadia 592]

MORAVEC, Ivan. Vaclav Neumann/Czech Philharmonic Orch. (1976)

MORAVEC, Ivan. Eduardo Mata/Dallas Sym. Orch. (1992) Piano Enthusiast Reference Recording

By all evidence I have seen, no other reviewers have sited the live performance on Dorian as a reference standard,

though a few have had rave reviews for the older performance on Supraphon. Both performances are really superb,

but I urge everybody to try and get a hold of the Dorian live concert recording (I guess Dorian has since gone out of

business, so you may have to look online for a used copy). Much of the interpretive minutia is discussed in the

separate section “Interpretative Choices,” so I will just try to summarize the highlights here. First off, most

performances, even my top recommendations, seem to lean slightly in one direction or the other in terms of poetic

expression or concertante excitement, but this performance seems to have found the ideal balance. It reflects

literally decades of concert experience that has allowed Moravec to polish this gem to perfection.

I participated in a master class with Moravec, years ago (’79?), and much of my approach in thinking about music

and writing reviews here stems from that experience. I have sat in on many master classes and lectures, but

Moravec’ approach was unique, instead of pontificating in absolute terms , he demonstrate the different approaches,

through different tempi, different pedaling, different balances of voicings, and it is was informative to discover that

minor adjustments one way or the other could have a major impact on the overall psychological impression.

Doubtless Moravec has experimented with these slight variations over the years and found the ideal balance. Now

the key here is that the live version imbues a level of energy and sense of occasion that elevates all of this

accumulated wisdom to a fine point. Just to site one tiny example, take measures 103 -111, the interplay of thematic

statement between the orchestra and piano. There is always the question of relative balance and how to project the

piano without being too forceful (many performers don’t even get this much right), but beyond that, Moravec subtly

alters the character of the major-key statement from the minor-key statement by changing the speed of the grace

notes: the first iteration in major, F to E-natural is a quick grace note and conveys confidence and contentment, the

minor key version , F to E-flat, is a slower grace note and conveys hesitation and doubt. In nearly a hundred

versions evaluated, no other performer makes that subtle distinction, but it really telescopes at an almost subliminal

level the change of gears, and the fragility of the psychological balance. Then, amazingly, the final E-natural has an

agogic that conveys the internal resolution. That, to me, is just amazing insight.

I must also site the fine work of Mata and the Dallas players, who , to be honest, really performed at a level beyond

my expectation. Just to site one example, in the Intermezzo movement, the expressive cello line at rehearsal letter

A (measures 29-44) is finally done right. I’m always surprised at how reticent most conductors are here, the only

other conductor to bring this out as well as Mata is Rostropovich (who was also a cellist). In the scampering and

bucolic finale Mata follows along expertly, and brings out felicities that far more famous conductors seem oblivious

to. Well, I could go on and on, but suffice to say, I don’t make a top recommendation without serious deliberation.

Please check out this amazing performance. [CD: Dorian 90172]

OGDON, John. Paavo Berglund/New Philharmonia Orch.

The “hiccups” phrasing in the opening salvo aside, this is an above-average run-through with no flaws and a few

moments of delight along the way. The subtle detaché phrasing in the second movement helps provide variety of

color and texture to the overall good mood they convey. The final movement springs forward with just the right

amount of metric propulsion. This is the right sound and style for Schumann, and a good solid recommendation

now that this is available at budget price. [CD: EMI 62859]

OPPITZ, Gerhard. Marc Andraj/Bamberg Sym. Orch. (2012)

No. The first movement seems to be modeled on Argerich, it is fiery and hot-tempered and surges forward at every

opportunity. But if that’s the style you like Argerich does it so much better. The Intermezzo is a ho-hum affair and

the finale has no lilt or vitality (I guess they burned all their fuel in the first movement.) [SACD: Tudor 7181]


PACINI, Sophie. Radoslaw Szule/Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie. (2011)

The first movement doesn’t seem to find its proper centering, some episodes, such as the opening salvo, are quick

and breathless, others seem to wander without focus. The Intermezzo sees the pianist and orchestra in entirely

different orbits, it’s like they are talking past each other, and not having a true dialog. The best thing I can say

about the final movement is that it ended. What I want to know (and to be honest, it kind of pisses me off) is why

such a debut release from an unknown artist is put on the market as a full-price release. Okay, the story about her

friendship with Martha Argerich catches one’s attention, but really this kind of basic performance would seem more

suitable for a super-budget release like Laserlight. Okay, onto better things in life. [CD: Onyx 4088]

PERAHIA, Murray. Colin Davis/Bavarian Radio Sym. Orch. live concert. (1987)

PERAHIA, Murray. Claudio Abbado/Berlin Philharmonic Recommended

My observations run somewhat counter to those reviewers who prefer the live performance to the later remake with

Abbado. But both of those reviewers are very vague on details. Here what I hear…

Regarding the Perahia-Davis performance, the first few pages and continuing through the first extended piano solo

at measures 47-58 convey a brooding greyness, with no expressive rise and fall of dynamics, nor any hint of voicing

interplay. The Andante espressivo episode does not soar as nicely as Argerich, or Bolet or Cortot (just to pick the

first three letters of the alphabet) though Davis superbly counterbalances Perahia’s firm keybed touch with some

poignant orchestral expression. Throughout the movement I find reason to compliment Davis but Perahia seems

stiff and stolid. Hearing the range of his piano in the cadenza I wonder if he may have been limited by a flat and

colorless piano. The cadenza is not bad, but it never soars like the best of them. The final movement takes a

middle-of-the-road tempo, which doesn’t mean the performance need sound cautious or unexciting, but in this

case, the articulations all seem blunted and there is no micro-dynamic inflection coming from the piano (which

could also be an issue of the piano’s voicing).

The best I can say about Perahia is that he doesn’t do anything untoward that would obviously flaw the

performance. In other words, he doesn’t fall on his face. But virtually anything of note that happens in this

recording stems from the insights of Colin Davis and the orchestra. Even so, if you are a fan of Davis, you should

get the new version with Evgeny Kissin which shows even further experience and understanding of the work. If you

are a Perahia fan, get the version with Abbado. In way you look at it, this live concert recording is not competitive.

[CD: CBS 44899]

As for the later remake, I’m glad both of these artists had the opportunity to set right their previously

underwhelming recordings. For Abbado it was a reticent non-starter with Brendel and the London Symphony

Orchestra. For Perahia it was a live concert recording with Sir Colin Davis and the Bavarians. Perahia’s remake

with Abbado has much to commend it, and was just barely beat out by Moravec and the new Kissin recording for

top honors in this survey. Nonetheless, if you enjoy having multiple versions in your library this one warrants

serious consideration. Abbado elicits some wonderful playing from the Berliners, as evidenced right from the start

with the lovely oboe tone. Measures 19-31 can sound like so much aimless noodling in other pianists hands (even

Perahia, in the earlier recording), but Perahia shapes and sculpts the line, and imbues it was an expectant energy

that propels it forward. The Andante espressivo is nicely rendered by both pianist and the various orchestral

musicians, but the movement has an overall concertante feel, with a sense of drive still apparent under all the

refinement. The cadenza is well-crafted, and Perahia sees the proper peak at measure 451, but not so much by brute

fortissimo, but by agogic stress for more emphasis. The second and third movements are equally engaging.

Interestingly, Perahia adds two extra chords during the timpani roll on the concluding cadential flourish. I’m not

sure where that idea came from but I kind of like it. The disc comes paired with the minor works for piano and

orchestra by Schumann. The Concert Allegro, Opus 134 is not bad, but the recent version with Hewitt is much

better. However, the Introduction and Allegro, Opus 92 is very nice indeed, with soaring and sumptuous orchestral

playing from Abbado. If you are like me, you will prefer hearing the Schumann works together in one sitting

instead of yet another jarring change of gears to the ubiquitous Grieg Concerto. [CD: Sony 64577]

As I was finishing up the final checks on this survey, I happened to hear a performance on the radio of the

Schumann Concerto. I just missed the opening pages, so I hadn’t heard who the performers were. My local station


usually plays the Argerich/Harnoncourt version, but it was obvious right away this was not Argerich. Now, I never

use impressions from radio broadcasts as a definitive source for my opinions primarily because my local station uses

a lot of dynamic compression (you know that when the final chord of the Liszt Sonata “regenerates” three times!) so

I focused on listening only for outline of phrasing, tempo, rubato, and things that are not effected by dynamic

tinkering. By the time of the cadenza I still hadn’t identified the performance, but I knew that it wasn’t one of my

top ten, and I also knew it wasn’t among the worst, either. I noticed that there was some disconnect between the

piano and orchestra in the second movement, as when the has an upward gesture,6-7-8-1, and the orchestra

responds by continuing the line, 2-3-4-5, then the piano 6-7-8-1, orchestra 2-3-4-5. Now, most performers grow the

upward gesture with a gentle crescendo, and the orchestra would then ideally mimic the same dynamic contour.

Another way is simply to keep the dynamics at a uniform level. But in no case would it make any sense from a

hermeneutical-expressive point of view to play an ascending gesture with a diminuendo. The only way that would

ever make sense is if a slight ritardando was used, to convey a moment of self reflection. That is not possible here

because the piano and orchestra are changing the baton back and forth. So, I hear one gesture done with a

diminuendo in the piano, not echoed by the orchestra, and another with a dynamic dip in the piano. That was my

clue that this must be a live performance, because that, to me, would warrant a remake if this was a studio

production. So, my memory is accessing all the live performances I know of that are not with what I’d call a

distinctive (readily identifiable) musical personality. I’ve got four in mind. Now the final movement. Decent

tempo, some excitement conveyed by the woodwinds (you can tell by how emphatic the plosives are on the attacks),

but the piano sounds like a dull, colorless Hamburg Steinway. I had narrowed it to two, but was leaning strongly in

one direction. I waited for the last few pages with the alternating octaves, would they be etched with a metric

contour, or dull and plodding and with no discernible metric profile? Dull and shapeless. I knew then before the

announcer even came on that it was Perhaia’s live performance with the Bavarians. So, I take a deep breath and ask

myself why stations are continuing to play this lifeless performance, when there are newer performances that are so

much better, even the Argerich/Harnoncourt with its flaws is so much more engaging than this performance.

Perhaps the station managers and programmers are just not up to date. I mean, about twenty years ago, the

Perhaia/Davis version was considered among the top handful of performances on record. But I still can’t believe

anybody who has compared the two would prefer the Perahia-Davis version.

So, I put on both CDs yet again, and re-listened to both Perahia recordings. While I took notes, I also reviewed

previous notes, kept on separate pages each time so that I would hear as much as possible without influence of my

earlier impressions. I noticed that each time I used the same adjectives to describe what I was hearing. The most

common descriptor in the earlier version was “blunt,” the most common descriptor in the later performance was

“wide awake” or “100% alert.” Indeed, I have rarely encountered a performance that is so completely concentrated

and in the moment as this version with Abbado. This is active drama, completely committed and engaged playing

without a single lapse of focus or energy the whole time. That is why I stand firm on this one: by virtually every

criterion I describe in the interpretive analysis, the Perahia-Abbado is the better performance.

PIRES, Maria João. Claudio Abbado/Chamber Orch. Of Europe. (1999)

While I have enjoyed what she has done with this conductor and chamber ensemble with various Mozart Concerti, I

find the Schumann less than satisfying. It’s ironic that the CD is entitled “With Passion” because I find this

performance emotionally impassive, without joy, or yearning, or exuberance. One reviewer said that she brings out

the “whispered intimacies” of the work, and sites the unusually small ensemble as having the advantage of a more

immediate musical exchange between soloist and orchestra. Hmmm. Obviously, I have been unable to see any

advantages in this approach. To me there is entirely too much walking on eggs, and it almost seems to apologize for

any hint at passion. Unlike Argerich, who could stand to tone down her caffeine and nicotine intake and relax every

now and then, Pires could do with a strong cup of espresso or some other stimulant to ignite a little more vigor and

passion.

POLLINI, Maurizio. Carlo Maria Giulini/Wiener Symphoniker (1974)

POLLINI, Maurizio. Claudio Abbado/Berlin Phil. (1989)

The earlier performance sees some lack of cohesion at first between Giulini and Pollini, the pianist seeking a tauter

line, the conductor seeking more Furtwanglerish largesse. After the first minute or so they seem to work things out

somewhere in between. However, the Andante expressive is surprisingly slow and languorous for Pollini (and not to


be duplicated on his later remake with Abbado) so I wonder to what degree Giulini held sway. Pollini’s cadenza is

clean and without frenzy, I would almost say stoic except there is an undeniable sense of lyrical grace in his tone.

The movement concludes on an emotionally relaxed and contented note. The Intermezzo grazioso sees Pollini

drifting this way or that (holding back or pushing forward) because he probably hears that there is a lack of

emotional connection between the piano and orchestra. Again, things seem to work out as they progress so by the

time they get to measure 54 there is some rapt and communicative music making on both sides. The third

movement sees Giulini ever so slightly sabotaging the metric drive. Pollini wants to be crisp and metric delineated,

Giulini, more relaxed and genial. But soon Pollini mimics Giulini’s geniality and they are once again playing on the

same sheet of music, so to speak.

The DG recording has several sound issues which may impact negatively on my evaluation. Firstly, the

microphones are unforgivingly close to Pollini, whose piano is voiced a bit on the hard side. Second, I suspect some

kind of dynamic limitation/compression in the master of my CD (DG 445522) because the orchestra doesn’t soar

naturally. Thirdly, the sound is too dry and needs a touch more ambient bloom to cushion some of the abrasiveness

of the piano. There are some issues with the performance itself. At rehearsal letter B (measures 112-115) Pollini does

something that thankfully nobody else has done (in over 80 performances evaluated). The score says animato, but

given the context (texture, dynamic setting, etc.) the tradition is to imbue the passage with a little rustle of

breathless anticipation. Pollini really rushes forward and to top it off plays the left hand figurations dry and etched

(without pedal). That is just unmusical. There is no orchestration imaginable that would yield such a sound, and if

you did assign a string quartet to play one of each of the four notes, to be played pizzicato and then damped

immediately. The effect would be strange and not entirely pleasing. Maybe he was trying to imitate the strumming

of a guitar? Well, The Andante expressive is very literal and mono-dynamic, and the flurry of chords in the cadenza

is so dry and abrasive that it is an ordeal just to listen to it. And so it goes. I can see why this recording never got

any top recommendations.

RICHTER, Sviatoslav. Stanislaw Wislocki/Nat’l. Phil. Warsaw. (1958)

RICHTER, Sviatoslav. Lovro van Matacic/Orch. Nat’l. de Monte Carlo.

Richter has his share of reference recordings in my collection, but the Schumann Concerto is not among them. It’s

not just a question of poor sound in both accounts, or less than stellar orchestral accompaniment. The Warsaw

reed section sounds terribly pinched and whiny. As I listen through all those handicaps I’ve determined that

Ricther’s approach is inherently at odds with the scale and temperament of this work. In both accounts he plays

with masculine virility (brusqueness of tone), one-dimensional tonal and dynamic spectrum, laser-like focus and

objectivity, and a graceless inability to find the more tender moments in this work. That kind of unstoppable force

works well for the Liszt Concerti, but seems inappropriate at every step in the Schumann. His contemporary

compatriot, Gilels, had a much better grasp of the varied colors and shifting moods of this work. [CDs: DG 447440 and

EMI 47164]

ROSEL, Peter. Kurt Masur/Leipzig Gewandhaus

Can’t recommend this one. The first movement seems emotionally constricted and casts a grey sky on Schumann’s

landscape. The second movement starts out promising but numerous misplaced fermatas only serve to disrupt the

natural flow of the music. The Allegro vivace is efficient and business-like and hardly brings forth the joyous

ebullience of the best performances. Even as a budget release, no thanks. [CD: Berlin Classics 32522]

RUBINSTEIN, Arthur. William Steinberg/RCA Victor Sym. Orch. (1947)

RUBINSTEIN, Arthur. Carlo Maria Giulini/Chicago Sym. Orch. (1966)

RUBINSTEIN, Arthur. Carlo Maria Giulini/Philharmonia Orchestra.

The earliest recording from 1947 is of no particular interest. It doesn’t have any of the more insightful touches that

occur with the Giulini/Chicago performance. Sound is dated and the microphone placement skews the perspective,

with woodwinds up close and less ambient, and the strings more distant and diffuse. The timpani sounds like it is

underwater. If you are willing to tolerate historic sound quality there are so many more worthy options for you:

Cortot ’34, Sauer/Mengelberg ’40, or Gieseking ’51 being my top picks.


Rubinstein and Giulini’s collaborations are different enough in inflection (as in distinctive from other performances)

that some listeners have seized upon this manner as their preferred rendering of the work. Others, such as myself,

are rather put off by it. I notice that none of the listener guides or review sources such as Gramophone or Penguin

ever list Rubinstein in their recommendations, but I can see why so many listeners have posted positive

commentary on YouTube. Both the pianist and the orchestra seem to play with what musicians call a vertical

metric pulse. That is, the forward progression of the line rarely wavers from the strict observance of note values,

and long, sustained notes seem to have a firm delineation on each note, with generally consistent (as opposed to

subtly varying) dynamic levels. In some hands, such playing would come off as sounded stiff and stilted, but with

Rubinstein’s generally rounded tone, and “donut hole” voicing (with emphasis on the top line and firm bass

foundation, but less filling in the middle, hence donut hole) the effect is more of nobility and being above the fray of

scattered emotional wanderings. With a lighter touch, such an approach would seem somewhat aloof to the poetry,

but Rubinstein’s confidence and firm anchoring tone really imbue the work with a definite point of view. And some

listeners like the Schumann this way. It’s less fussy and manipulated, and gets directly to the point.

Okay, that the defendants case, now let’s hear from the prosecution. Both pianist and orchestra play with minimal

range of color or variation in texture. The orchestra’s contribution is reduced to simple um-pah accompaniment

much of the time, and Rubinstein’s firm disposition often borders on angularity. The cadenza is rather clunky and

played with linear sense of flow, that is, each chord registers with its own identity rather than working as a

component in an overall arching progression. There are several instances where Rubinstein firm approach is

suddenly softened into an apparent daydream which makes no sense in the overall story line. Perhaps such

moments of “inspiration” were more effective when the audience could read his body language and see what

emotional-expressive realm he was tapping into. Just from a listening point of view, such moments register as being

out of character and seem disruptive to the story.

Final verdict: Rubinstein plays this as in a firmly concertante manner, with minimal fussiness or personal

idiosyncrasy. Many listeners prefer this direct, no-nonsense approach. However, given all the evidence from Clara

Schumann’s letters, this was not the characterization the composer intended, and the work clearly loses some of its

uniqueness by being rendered in the same generic manner that could be applied to anything from Beethoven to

Tchaikovsky. [CD: BBC Legends 41522]

The commercial release from RCA and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra has better sound and a touch more

expressive nuance than the BBC performance. The first movement has some endearing moments, such as the

unexpected and almost intimate exchange between the piano and oboe in measures 107-111 that shows that both

pianist and orchestra were actually listening to each other and seizing on moments of musical rapport. Then there

is the raptly communicative Andante espressivo (measures 156-184) which is slower than usual and conveys a

prayerful reverence.

Looking back to the 60’s and 70’s in America, the three best-selling versions of this work all came from pianists

active in America (because back then concerts and recordings went hand in hand, people bought recordings of

artists they knew from hearing in concert) and the three biggies were Cliburn, Rubinstein and Serkin. I always

preferred the Serkin, because even though less refined than the Rubinstein – it was often a bit raw and rough

around the edges – it conveyed so much more energy and passion than either Rubinstein or Cliburn. But, looking at

the situation from a more global point of view, none of these American performers could touch the layers and depth

of the European masters playing this work – Gieseking, Anda, Backhaus and Solomon – and I regret that during all

my formative years of study I was completely ignorant of what was happening on the other side of the pond.

SAUER, Emil von. Wilhelm Mengelberg/Concertgebouw Amsterdam. (1940) Recommended

This was a new discovery for me as I conducted this comparative survey. I thoroughly enjoyed this performance and

the companion works on the disc. What we have here is not just one superstar but two, as both pianist and

conductor bring an incredible wealth of musical insight to the table. The opening salvo is measured and noble,

with the de rigeur low chords that the pianists of the day seemed to favor - but they are more tastefully done than

Cortot’s full-fisted fury. The orchestral entrance is earnest and beautifully rendered, and the pianist’s first solo

continues the mood. All of the players seem thoroughly engaged throughout. The motivic imitation at measures

103-111 is wonderfully rendered, with a playful back and forth banter between piano and orchestra. Such moments


are frequent, and not just passing episodes. Oftentimes pianists just seem to soft pedal everything and wait for the

few moments where they can pounce.

The second movement is surprisingly brisk, much in the manner that Gilels was to do later, and this apparently

follows the performance suggestions of Clara Schumann herself. All I care about is if it works or not, and it most

certainly does. The final Allegro vivace is very light in tone, almost crystalline (I suspect he was playing on a

Bechstein and not a heavier Steinway), there is none of the dipping down to deep growling registers like Cortot,

Sauer keeps everything crisp and elegant, and the effect is pure delight. This is now one of my benchmark historical

performances. [CD: Arbiter 114]

SCHIFF, Andras. Antal Dorati/Concertgebouw Amsterdam. (1988)

After reviewing nearly a hundred recordings for this survey, there’s still one more I’d put on my wish list to hear:

Andras Schiff. By evidence of this recording Schiff is superbly sensitive and draws a perfect line between classical

elegance and romantic passion. But Dorati is there to sabotage at every step of the journey. A good majority of the

time the orchestral lines remain fixed at a static level instead of having a life of their own, or worse yet, they will be

reticent and lose any momentum Schiff has built up. It seems obvious that if the pianist blooms the line before

passing the baton that the orchestra would continue the projection of the line, but every time Dorati holds back.

Specifics? Try the famous Andante espressivo section, which is sensitively rendered by Schiff. The orchestra offers

no counterpoint to his soaring melody, the lovely clarinet line at measure 160 is barely heard, the interplay of flute

and clarinet at measure 170 just a tepid background noise. In the second movement, at the cello line measures 30 –

41, the piano is basically just noodling here because Schumann has given the melodic line to the cellos. I’ve heard

this before, the young and inexperienced Abbado, similarly missed opportunities with his first recording with

Brendel, but twenty years later with Perahia he had learned just how critical all these orchestral episodes are. The

only place where both Schiff and Dorati should jointly share the blame, is in the choice of the slowish tempo for the

last movement. A few pianists have made such a tempo work, but if upon rehearsing together things just weren’t

coming to life at this tempo, then adjustments should have been made. Measures 219 to 250 sounds like a guest

appearance of Grieg’s gnomes rendered with practice-tempo parody. Then follows another lame orchestral interlude

from Dorati. But the recording passed the approval of the producer and both artists, so everybody’s to blame.

Suffice to say this recording is not a contender. Who knows how Schiff would approach the work now, but if he

plays as well as he did in the first two movements and bumped up the tempo in the finale about 8 clicks (or had an

orchestra that articulated with more clarity) then the results could be counted among the greats.

As long as I’m making my dream recording, I might suggest Schiff get together with the Deutsches Symphonie-

Orchester Berlin, or the Berliner Philharmoniker as long as Rattle is not at the helm. Schiff’s tonal preferences have

changed somewhat over the decades and he has been on a Bösendorfer kick of late. The trouble is he tends to

always choose Imperials with very nasal and unpleasant mid-bass voicing. Since my dream recording would have in

in Berlin, I’d recommend he use the new Bechstein 282 which has a smoother, yet more solid mid-bass than the

Bosey, but without the sometimes heavy effulgence of the Steinway. It should provide an ideal balance for

Schumann. Well, that’s my dream anyway.

SCHNABEL, Artur. Pierre Monteaux/Philharmonic Sym. Orch. (1943)

As a serious collector and dutiful student of pianistic art, I’ve accumulated many recordings of Schnabel over the

years. But I can’t say I’ve really enjoyed any of them, and certainly have never pulled any of them off the shelf just

for enjoyment. I just always found his player rather dry and stiff. This Schumann is a straight-laced, no-nonsense

rendering, whose only detectable inflection seems to result from impatience on Schnabel’s part whenever Monteux

gets a little too expressive. There is definitely a disconnect between the two, Monteux seems disconnected and

unresponsive even when Schnabel is playing cleanly and in straight time. The third movement sees Schnabel

scrambling to play all the right notes, measures 40-56 are actually pretty bad. I did not find this recording at all

edifying, and will probably never listen to it again. [CD: Music & Arts 1111]


SERKIN, Rudolf. Eugene Ormandy/Philadelphia Orch.

This is the performance I grew up with (on LP), and I listened to it often. The local library had an LP with Istomin

and Bruno Walter which I would compare against the Serkin. Hard to imagine but back then I built my library up

with a careful concern for avoiding any duplication! Now look at me! Okay, now that I got that blast from the past

out of the way, let’s see what my take is after literally twenty years of not listening to this performance. Even after

evaluating over fifty versions, with many young and energetic virtuosos, this performance is still about as high-

octane as they come. This is vigorous, energetic, erstwhile music making, with vivid recording sound. I don’t know

why Ormandy’s reputation has faded so much after he died, there is certainly much to admire in how he sculpts the

orchestral collaboration. At least he is fully engaged and enthusiastic, unlike many modern conductors. But… there

is a downside, which explains why I haven’t put this on the platter for so long. Well, Rudi always did like his New

York Steinway’s voiced rather severely and for maximum impact, and while that works well for the Hammerklavier,

maybe it’s not the best choice for this quasi-chamber work. The recording is right there to capture all this vitality,

which sometimes, and unfortunately, shows Serkin struggling in some of the demanding octave passages, the

playing rather clunky, and the sound rather harsh. Verdict: not a top contender, but it did bring a smile and a tap

of the toe, and I’ll take a little clunky and harsh any day over lackluster Brendel, or day-dreamy Kempff. [LP:

Columbia]

SHELLEY, Howard. Howard Shelley/Orch. Of Opera North.

This performance taps into the same energetic zeal and propulsive drive that endears listeners to Argerich’s

performances. But in my view Shelley has three advantages over Argerich: he reigns in the more manic outbursts

that are sometimes disruptive in the Argerich, he better integrates this breathless forward momentum with the

episodes of expressive reflection, and this recording has better sound and balance than any of Argerich’s. I still like

the Argerich/Harnoncourt for the final movement, but Shelley is worlds better in the first two movements and

perky enough in the finale so that the performance ends on an upbeat note (actually, it ends on a downbeat, but you

know what I mean). I also enjoyed the companion works on this disc, the Grieg, and Saint-Saens G-minor. [CD:

Chandos 10509]

SOLOMON, Cutner. Herbert Menges/The Philharmonia Orchestra

Every time I revisit Solomon’s recordings after some lapse of time, I’m always taken again at just how incredibly

underappreciated this artists was. Both the pianist and the orchestra are absolutely stunning. What a wonderful

recording! Okay, I guess I gave it away too soon that I like this performance, but here’s the reason why…

First off, the concept, and the mood that it creates is quite unlike anything else in this entire survey. Being too

extreme could be a bad thing, but this is not extreme in any overt manner, it’s just that all of the myriad details give

a completely individual and quite intimate cumulative gestalt. The rapport between piano and orchestra seems as

natural as breathing, it’s like a slightly bigger-scaled and idealized chamber music performance. In some ways

Solomon and Gieseking appear to share a similar overall conception of the work. Both have a superb command of

pianissimo nuance. But Gieseking is all about micro-dynamic energy, and tactile frisson, whereas Solomon is more

relaxed, less likely to give metric stress if it sacrifices the beautiful legato of the line. The orchestra, too, is full of

color and expressive nuance and the conductor maintains ideal balance throughout. Many historical performances

are merely interesting, offering insights into the styles of past masters – but this performance is one you will put on

often for sheer enjoyment and enrichment. It is soulful and transporting in its timeless recreation of Schumann’s

poetic vision. I have the older single EMI CD, but it is currently available as a boxed set. There is also a version on

Testament but I slightly prefer the warmer tone of the EMI. Recommended Historical Performance

STAIER, Andreas. Philippe Herreweghe/Orch. Champs Elysees. (1996)

Well, I’ll keep my comments short here, because, to be honest, this is the one and only authentic instruments

performance I’ve heard, so I don’t really have much basis to make a comparative assessment. One thing’s for sure,

this can’t be considered in the same category as the other recordings in this survey which use a modern piano. I

found it instructive to hear just how different the work must have sounded to Schumann, and frankly a little

depressed, because I sure miss the soaring melodic capability of a modern piano. I didn’t come away from this


experience in the same way I did when I heard all the authentic instrument performances of Beethoven’s

Symphonies. Those were both revelatory and thrilling in there bracing dynamic immediacy and textural clarity.

This was not exactly thrilling. What I took away from the experience was just how much more like chamber music

this sounds, and not the symphonic-size drama we are used to. The many pages of transitional material (measures

19-31 for example) sound completely improvisational here, with an overall relaxed feel that is contrary to the deep

pathos and drama we have come to expect. It may very well be that Robert Schumann envisioned the work more in

this style (originally conceived as a Fantasia) but that it was with Clara Schumann’s prompting that the work

evolved into a more overt concert work. I guess as a pianist myself, I am not so receptive to the limitations of the

period piano, and at this point I’m probably beyond redemption. But I did enjoy the Second Symphony which is

paired with the Concerto on this disc. It was lightweight as one would expect, but had a compensatory clarity and

propulsive energy that was quite invigorating. In any case, there is enough here of interest that any serious collector

should hear it at least once. Then you can go back to your favorite modern performances! [CD: Harmonia Mundi

1951731]

TRIENDL, Oliver. Leos Svarovsky/Brno State Phil. Orch. (1992)

Na ja. Just a generic run-through with little of note. Judging by the playing in the Allegro vivace I would have

guessed this to be the playing of a tired old man, except that even the elderly Arrau and Kempff manage more

energy in their octaves than this young man. Well, the Rachmaninoff Concerto on this disc is a little better (at least

he digs into the Bösendorfer Imperial a little more) or I would have just tossed this disc. A quick search on this

pianist’s name revealed that since the time of this recording he has gone on to record all kinds of obscure works

from minor composers, but I can see why he hasn’t been engaged for more mainstream repertoire. [CD: Thorofon

2178]

UCHIDA, Mitsuko. Simon Rattle/Berlin Phil.

If I had heard this blind I would have never guessed it was Uchida. The playing here is surprisingly bold with plenty

of heavy bass octaves coming from the Steinway. Rattle revs the Berliners into Karajan-like Prussian vigor. The

overall conception is for firm structural blocks rather than finely-honed delicacies. This is like Rubinstein on

steroids, which is decidedly not my take on what the Schumann is all about. Later I saw a video posting on

YouTube and have to say Uchido is wearing the most unattractive concert attire I’ve ever seen- it looks like a silk

poncho raincoat. But maybe I just don’t recognize fashionable style when I see it?

VIRSALADZE, Eliso. Dmitri Kitaenko/Moscow Phil. Orch. (1977)

The real attraction on this disc is the Chopin E-minor Concerto; the Schumann is just barely a notch above average

(based on the reasonable competence you’d expect at any live concert program with a decent orchestra). About the

only thing I found at all noteworthy was how she brings out the left hand canto in the first movement, measures 19-

25, with a subtle agogic emphasis and tapered dynamics – that’s actually the way I prefer it. Elsewhere I just don’t

find anything of note, and it’s not like the quality of the recording is that great. As I said, the only justification for

this release is the Chopin, and even then, not as a full-price issue in a crowded and competitive market. [CD:

Melodiya 1001819]

ZIMERMAN, Krystian. Herbert von Karajan/Berliner Phil.

Although I always thought the Grieg Concerto on this CD was overblown, I enjoyed the Schumann much more.

However, as I have listened to other versions over the years and grown to see all the layers of this work, I find this

performance rather one-dimensional. And though less overt than the Grieg, I hear some of the same rigidity and

abrasiveness from both the piano and the orchestra which takes on an almost Prussian-like militarism. This is a

bold, vigorous rendering with much to admire, but I feel it doesn’t give enough expression to those more poetic and

tender moments to be among my final recommendations. [CD: DG 410021]

schumann piano concertopianoenthusiast.com/comparative-surveys-pdf/schumann... · schumann piano...

Documents