Mozart & Beethoven Piano Concertos (CD Review)

 by Ryan Ross

Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 24 in C Minor, K. 491; Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 37; 32 Variations in C Minor, WoO 80. Rafał Blechacz, pianist; Kent Nagano, conductor; Dresdner Philharmonie. DG 486 8940

While the most recent International Chopin Piano Competition was underway, I had a debate with other classical music fans on the app formerly known as Twitter. I remarked that all of the competition’s participants could technically run circles around Alfred Cortot, and that no amount of musicality overcomes my impatience with his messy playing. I received some hard pushback for these remarks, but remained trenchant. True, more than a few competition participants produced interpretations that were pristine yet soulless. But I thought I preferred this, however character-filled. “Just give me the music!” I said, “and stay out of its way!”

 

I’m still something of a heretic for being allergic to Cortot’s pianism. But as I keep listening to and reviewing new recordings of standard repertoire, I’m gradually coming around to my debaters’ general point of view. You see, I’m getting bored with “pristine yet soulless.” I have heard multiple great recordings of both Mozart’s 24th Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 3rd. Almost all of them are decades old. Many more recordings of both works have appeared since, even many technically excellent ones. But I’m afraid I cannot recall details in most of these. Rafał Blechacz’s new and nearly-pristine performances with Kent Nagano and the Dresden Philharmonic will likely belong to this second group.

 

Blechacz happens to have won the Chopin Competition more than two decades ago. Yeah, his skills are the envy of most pianists: flawless technique, impeccable control, and a sheeny polish overall. But “most pianists” isn’t “all pianists.” And when I listen to Blechacz here I’m faced with excellence that outpaces individuality. What can I get in these interpretations that I cannot get elsewhere? If this were the year 1900, probably quite a lot. But it’s 2026, and the world now teems with elite technicians.

 

Earlier, I said that Blechacz is nearly pristine in this recording. I stand by that, but there are still some drawbacks that only bolster my preference for other interpretations. The first mostly isn’t his fault: Nagano and the Dresden Philharmonic are at times too forceful in the Mozart. Tutti passages boom disproportionately to Blechacz’s comparatively subdued approach. Once or twice the orchestra moderately obscures the soloist where both play together. In short, I don’t think Blechacz and his supporting cast are precisely matched. The Beethoven concerto is better balanced, though even here I sense that Nagano wants to do more than his soloist. Which brings us to the second problem, and full circle to my initial statements: Blechacz doesn’t take any risks. At nearly every turn he declines to really lean into the music expressively. True, his reticence is often subtle, but subtleties weigh when I have umpteen other Op. 37 and WoO 80 takes to choose from. I need more fire than he’s prepared to supply, and there are plenty of other places where I can get it.

 

In past reviews I have emphasized a separation of purpose between live performances and recordings. Yes, record companies have bottom lines, and artists like lucrative deals. But the business of music often conflicts with less immediate concerns. Call me idealistic, but I happen to believe that what gets recorded should merit such preservation. It should also repay consumer investment. Frankly, I can’t muster related enthusiasm for this one. Performers like Blechacz are needed to share these works in person, foster communal joy and appreciation, and thereby keep the tradition alive. But apart from their desire to make nice livings, I see less value in every pianist committing standard rep to disc. If the riposte is that this release is a perfectly fine product for people to get to know these concerti, or to listen casually, I’ll concede the point. But how many more of those do we need? And when will diminishing returns finally force some sort of reckoning? 

James Brawn in Recital, Volume 3. Scarlatti: Sonatas – Ingenuity and Delight (CD Review)

 by Karl Nehring

Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, K.1 ‘Toccata’; Sonata in D minor, K.9 ‘Pastorale’; Sonata in B minor, K.27; Sonata in D minor, K.32 ‘Aria’; Sonata in D minor, K.34 ‘Larghetto’; Sonata in D major, K.96 ‘La Caccia’; Sonata in D minor, K.141 ‘Toccata’; Sonata in A minor, K.149; Sonata in C major K.159 ‘La Caccia’; Sonata in A minor, K.175; Sonata in A major, K.208 ‘Cantabile’; Sonata in A major, K.209; Sonata in E minor, K.291; Sonata in A major, K.322; Sonata in B minor, K.377 ‘Bourée’;Sonata in E major, K.380 ‘Le Cortége’; Sonata in D major, K.430 ‘Un Ballo’; Sonata in F minor, K.466; Sonata in D major, K.491 ‘Le Cortége’; Sonata in C major, K.513 ‘Pastorale’; Sonata in E major, K.531 ‘Tarantella’; Allesandro Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, ‘Arioso’. James Brawn, piano. MSR Classics MS 1829

Long-time followers of Classical Candor should be familiar with the English pianist James Brawn (b. 1971), who now resides in Shanghai. Over the years, we have covered his recordings of the complete Beethoven piano sonatas, which John Puccio, Bill Heck, and I have found praiseworthy for both their musical and sonic virtues (you can find examples of those reviews here, here, and here. In addition to his “Beethoven Odyssey” recordings, Brawn has also released two other recordings, both of which were reviewed by John Puccio: James Brawn in Recital, which featured Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition plus works by Bach, Bach-Busoni, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff (the review of that release can be found here) and James Brawn in Recital, Volume 2: The Time Traveller and His Muse, a 2-CD set that featured works by Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Gershwin, Grieg, Liszt, Mozart, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff, Scarlatti, Schubert, and Scriabin (the review of which can be found here).

 

Travel in time more than a decade and we now have before us this most recent release in Brawn’s recital series, this one devoted to the music of Scarlatti, who was born in Naples in 1685, which makes him contemporaneous with Bach and Handel. In his CD booklet notes, Brawn includes a quotation from Scarlatti that explains where Brawn drew the inspiration for the “Ingenuity and Delight” subtitle for this release: “Do not expect, O Dilettante or Professor, whoever you may be, in these compositions any profound intention, but rather an ingenious jesting with art, to accustom you to the frankness of the harpsichord… Show yourself more human than critical, and so you will increase your own delight… Live happily.” (As an aside, I must say – with considerable delight – how personally I can relate to Scarlatti’s invitation as I reflect on how our own Ryan Ross, a learned professor of music, is a devoted fan of the Scarlatti sonatas, while I, a music lover but dilettante nonetheless, have come to love Scarlatti’s sonatas the more I have listened to them over the past few years. Yes, they truly have increased the delight of dilettante and professor alike, at least here at Classical Candor…)

 

Brawn writes of Scarlatti’s sonatas that they are “mostly single-movement works in binary form – compact, self-contained dramas full of musical contrasts. These pieces are not sketches or fragments, but fully formed miniatures: some wistful, others playful or bold. Together, they form a kaleidoscopic view of 18^th-century imagination, filtered through the sensibilities of one of its most original minds. Each sonata unfolds like a scene in a theatre – shifting in mood, surprising in character, sometimes masking complexity behind apparent simplicity. Their impact lies in their conciseness and immediacy. Rather than elaborate development, Scarlatti favors quick turns, sudden key changes, and textures that alternate between elegance and raw energy.” When I listen to the Scarlatti sonatas, I sometimes find myself comparing and contrasting them with some of Bach’s keyboard works (as I write this, many of my grandkids are getting ready to return to school, and thinking about comparing and contrasting takes me all the way back to junior high – now I guess they now call it “middle school” – English and History classes with their “compare and contrast” essays). They are similar in overall sound, but Bach sounds more structured, Scarlatti a bit looser. Bach can sound more formal, Scarlatti more casual. But my goodness, they both give so much pleasure, they are both such masters!

 

But for sheer entertainment – delight! – Scarlatti sets an incredibly high bar. Just stick this CD into your machine (or stream it, if you must), hit PLAY, and prepare to be delighted by the exuberant high spirits of the opening K.1 Toccata, a two-minute romp that will bring a smile to many a music lover’s face. Other highlights include the high-spirited K.96 ‘La Caccia,’ the gently melodic K.208 ‘Cantabile,’ the sprightly K.430 ‘Un Ballo,’ and the stately K.513 ‘Pastorale.’ Other listeners will doubtless discover other favorites, for the album is a musical treat from the first track to the last, captured in pristine sound quality. Highly recommended.

Schubert: Piano Sonata No. 17 in D Major, D. 850; Schumann: Kinderszenen (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Arcadi Volodos, pianist. Sony 19658879292

Schubert is one of my favorite composers. I adore almost all of his music. Almost. But I’m afraid the D. 850 sonata is one of very few works by him that leaves me indifferent. Sure, it’s grand in scope and impressively crafted, not to mention one of his more technically difficult entries in the genre. But I feel that the quality of its materials is below his usual standard. Compared to D. 664, D. 784, and the stupendous D. 958-D. 960 trio, it’s the affective runt of the litter. What’s so odd is you hear the harmonic surprises and turns of phrases that so enrich his more distinctive music, but they’re in service of themes that fail to land as hard emotionally. What would be one of the stronger works by Dussek or Moscheles is for Schubert an expressive low point, however structurally ambitious.

 

Which makes reviewing recordings of it difficult for me. When listening, I have to keep my mind from wandering. But I know plenty of enthusiasts somehow swear by this sonata, so I buckled down and did my homework. Arcadi Volodos is an excellent pianist who is capable of compelling interpretations. What I look for in any Schubert performance is a versatility that captures his many different moods, from melancholy to glowing intimacy to moments of joy that arrive like sunbeams through the clouds. Known for his big, bright sound, Volodos is unsurprisingly more than equal to the first movement’s technical brilliance. (Indeed, I often sense his virtuosity testing the sonata’s seams.) What impresses me more, however, is his adoption of a plaintive sotto voce in the slow movement and in later passages. Overall, I think I still prefer superlative accounts by Kempff (DG 423 496-2) and Gilels (RCA 09026 61614 2), who traverse an ineffable extra inch and natively inhabit subtle shades of introspection. But while I’m a D. 850 agnostic, I feel confident recommending this performance as a generally strong alternative to more celebrated picks.

 

The competition stiffens with Schumann’s Kinderszenen. Perhaps consequently, Volodos’s interpretation slightly comes off as a good one trying to be great. True, he churns out some quality playing. His Nos. 2, 3, and 10 I found particularly strong, despite wearing a deliberation that is more cumbersome elsewhere. But I hear plenty of dynamic and articulative peccadillos that Volodos might mistake for artistic risks. In multiple places there is good piano-versus-pianissimo shading from one area to another (for example in Nos. 4, 7, and 12), but in others not (as in No. 11). More bothersome is when he ignores or under-observes these markings. The second section of No. 1 is too loud for piano, and ditto the opening chords of No. 13. The Schneller section of 11 is too loud for an indicated pianissimo throughout. Sometimes crescendos get mangled, as when the apex notes of the same No. 13’s opening chords (marked with that sign) are withheld dynamically. Other lapses include: a failure to fully execute marked slurring in No. 8, occasionally accenting first beats rather than last ones in No. 9, and playing the tied chord in the seventh measure of No. 13 staccato instead of maintaining its full written duration.

 

I should cut Volodos some slack, this being a live recording. As far as those go, the sound quality here is fantastic despite a brief crashing noise marring No. 13 at 1:15. Otherwise I had to remind myself this isn’t a studio disc, which I suppose is a testament to stellar engineering. The flip side is that the performance itself is more suited to a live concert. Which doesn’t make it a bad recorded interpretation, but I believe its misses (or liberties) better suit the stage. On CD they make it a few notches below the best. Volodos clearly attempts special moments – and sometimes succeeds. If he doesn’t quite have the same poetry for Kinderszenen as a Radu Lupu (Decca 440 496-2) or an Ivan Moravec (Supraphon 11-0359-2), who does? But there is enough interest across the entirety to justify storage space in most collections. Even the collection of an Imperfect 850-ite like me.