Piano Concertos Nos. 1 & 2. Andras Schiff, piano; Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. ECM New Series 2690/91 - 485 5770 (2-disc set).
By John J. Puccio
Classical pianist and conductor Sir Andras Schiff (b. 1953) has been around long enough to have played just about everything, but this time it’s a little different. He plays a piano built in 1859, just a year after Brahms wrote his First Piano Concerto, and accompanying him is the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, an ensemble of period instruments that Brahms might have encountered in his own lifetime. In other words, following historically informed performance practices and using instruments original to Brahms’s day, these readings of the Brahms First and Second Piano Concertos are probably as close as possible to something Brahms would have easily recognized.
As you no doubt know, Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) composed the Piano Concerto No. 1 in 1858 while he was still a fairly young fellow in his twenties. It’s a work all craggy and monumental in scope, abounding in energy and vitality, perhaps the energy of youth, Apparently, it started out as a symphony, so maybe that explains where it went.
While the First Piano Concerto may be a youthful work, there is no excessive playfulness about it, with a healthy interplay between soloist and orchestra. I’ve heard that Brahms intended the second-movement Adagio as an elegiac tribute to his late mentor, Robert Schumann, followed by a fairly jubilant finale, a kind of spirited peasant dance with variations that sparkle.
Now, admittedly, I have a fondness for historical performances, even when they don’t reach back as many years as the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is probably used to playing. Still, the string players use gut strings and play with an abundance of vibrato and smooth glides, and the timpani are leaner than we often hear today. What’s more, the 1859 Bluthner grand piano has a lighter, nimbler sound than a modern grand. It’s all unique and attractive, and it makes these recordings more than simply unique; it makes them worthwhile additions to anyone’s already stacked library of Brahms piano concertos.
Anyway, after a lengthy and properly regal orchestral introduction, the soloist finally arrives. Yet Schiff does so with a nimble subtlety. There is nothing grand or self-centered about his performance; he appears to be at one with the orchestra. Mr. Schiff says that the older pianos (of the nineteenth century) were “more transparent, with a more singing tone” than today’s Steinways, and he makes good use of those qualities in a transparent, singing performance. I suppose playing from the autograph manuscripts helps, too.
Brahms was in no hurry to follow up his First Piano Concerto, however. There was a gap of twenty-two years before he wrote his only other Piano Concerto, his No. 2 in B major, and it took him some four years to complete in 1881. It became an immediate success, with the composer himself as the soloist at the premiere, and he went on to perform it all over Europe. Brahms wrote the piece in four movements rather than the traditional three, so it’s a little longer than most concertos. (I’ve read that Brahms included the extra movement, a scherzo, because he thought the opening movement sounded too plain and simple.) He filled the work with so many memorable melodies that the whole thing sounds lovely, less rugged than the First Concerto, more melodious, more pastoral.
Schiff’s realization of the Second Concerto retains all of its lyrical virtues and adds a layer of unmannered authority to it. The music remains in part charmingly rustic yet patrician. Here, the vintage piano plays a key part in that it sounds both regally expansive and poetically dulcet. It makes for an attractive combination in a performance that glistens sweetly throughout.
Executive producer Manfred Eicher, production coordinators Guido Gorna and Thomas Herr, tonmeister Stephan Scheilmann, and engineer John Barrett recorded the concertos at Abbey Road Studios, London in December 2019. The sound reflects a large space, a big auditorium or concert hall, even though it’s Abbey Road Studios. Whatever, it’s a flattering acoustic, the orchestra a bit close but imposing. Most important, it sounds real. Transparency is ample but not at the expense of brightness or edginess. The frequency range and dynamics are wide without overwhelming the music (or the listener). Ambience, depth, and spatiality are all more than adequate for a lifelike presentation. It’s everything a modern recording should be.
JJP
To listen to a brief excerpt from Concerto No. 2, click below:
By John J. Puccio
As you no doubt know, Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) composed the Piano Concerto No. 1 in 1858 while he was still a fairly young fellow in his twenties. It’s a work all craggy and monumental in scope, abounding in energy and vitality, perhaps the energy of youth, Apparently, it started out as a symphony, so maybe that explains where it went.
While the First Piano Concerto may be a youthful work, there is no excessive playfulness about it, with a healthy interplay between soloist and orchestra. I’ve heard that Brahms intended the second-movement Adagio as an elegiac tribute to his late mentor, Robert Schumann, followed by a fairly jubilant finale, a kind of spirited peasant dance with variations that sparkle.
Now, admittedly, I have a fondness for historical performances, even when they don’t reach back as many years as the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is probably used to playing. Still, the string players use gut strings and play with an abundance of vibrato and smooth glides, and the timpani are leaner than we often hear today. What’s more, the 1859 Bluthner grand piano has a lighter, nimbler sound than a modern grand. It’s all unique and attractive, and it makes these recordings more than simply unique; it makes them worthwhile additions to anyone’s already stacked library of Brahms piano concertos.
Anyway, after a lengthy and properly regal orchestral introduction, the soloist finally arrives. Yet Schiff does so with a nimble subtlety. There is nothing grand or self-centered about his performance; he appears to be at one with the orchestra. Mr. Schiff says that the older pianos (of the nineteenth century) were “more transparent, with a more singing tone” than today’s Steinways, and he makes good use of those qualities in a transparent, singing performance. I suppose playing from the autograph manuscripts helps, too.
Schiff’s realization of the Second Concerto retains all of its lyrical virtues and adds a layer of unmannered authority to it. The music remains in part charmingly rustic yet patrician. Here, the vintage piano plays a key part in that it sounds both regally expansive and poetically dulcet. It makes for an attractive combination in a performance that glistens sweetly throughout.
Executive producer Manfred Eicher, production coordinators Guido Gorna and Thomas Herr, tonmeister Stephan Scheilmann, and engineer John Barrett recorded the concertos at Abbey Road Studios, London in December 2019. The sound reflects a large space, a big auditorium or concert hall, even though it’s Abbey Road Studios. Whatever, it’s a flattering acoustic, the orchestra a bit close but imposing. Most important, it sounds real. Transparency is ample but not at the expense of brightness or edginess. The frequency range and dynamics are wide without overwhelming the music (or the listener). Ambience, depth, and spatiality are all more than adequate for a lifelike presentation. It’s everything a modern recording should be.
JJP
To listen to a brief excerpt from Concerto No. 2, click below:
