Includes Op 116 – 119. Paul Lewis, piano. Harmonia Mundi 902365.
By Bill Heck
Some time back, I reviewed an album by Christophe Sirodeau of Brahms’s Intermezzi, which are representative of the composer’s late piano works. In that review, I ran through some characteristics of these late works. If the next few paragraphs sound familiar, it’s because I have plagiarized myself from that review, albeit in condensed form.
Brahms’s Op. 116 – 119, his last works for solo piano, were published in 1892 – 93. (Brahms’s final works of any sort were published in 1896, and he died in 1897.) No longer was he composing large-scale orchestral works, such as symphonies and concertos: his compositional approach had become leaner, more intensely concentrated. The pieces here are the works of a mature composer, giving the sense of reflecting on life, which seem to me to be distilled Brahms, the essence of Brahms if you will. There is little ornamentation; the melodies can be downright simple – although sometimes deceptively so. Perhaps there is no better example than the Andante Moderato in E-flat, Op. 117, number 1. The opening melody sounds like a child’s song or a lullaby, the left hand plays but a few simple chords. The development becomes more complex, but the melody is never far away; the piece ends by returning to nearly the same basic simplicity with which it started. At the same time, that melody is a lovely one, tugging at the emotions and sticking in the mind.
Meanwhile, the dominant mood through the entire series of works is reflective, introspective, leaving behind the fire and passion of youth. (Try listening to this disk immediately after hearing the First Symphony or the First Piano Concerto; good heavens, what a contrast!) Gone are the complications and dense scoring of the orchestral works. There are frequent passages where the music can almost be played with two fingers, and many others where, even if more fingers are involved, we hear simple melodies and chords. But lest we forget, it still is Brahms, meaning that the musical intelligence shines through.
Lewis approaches these works in what I would call a straightforward way. No oddball tempi, no weird playing with the threads of melody and accompaniment, no clangorous noises or insane pedaling. That’s all to the good, and indeed Lewis’s playing is very good.
But that’s my concern with this set: the playing is very good, but there are so many choices, so many recordings of these works, that any new version needs to be very, very good, needs to bring some new insight, some new perspective, or some truly transcendent playing to stand out. As expected, there are no real technical issues here; Lewis obviously is a superb pianist. Everything seems perfectly fine; so far so good. But try as I might, I can't hear anything really special about these performances.
By Bill Heck
Brahms’s Op. 116 – 119, his last works for solo piano, were published in 1892 – 93. (Brahms’s final works of any sort were published in 1896, and he died in 1897.) No longer was he composing large-scale orchestral works, such as symphonies and concertos: his compositional approach had become leaner, more intensely concentrated. The pieces here are the works of a mature composer, giving the sense of reflecting on life, which seem to me to be distilled Brahms, the essence of Brahms if you will. There is little ornamentation; the melodies can be downright simple – although sometimes deceptively so. Perhaps there is no better example than the Andante Moderato in E-flat, Op. 117, number 1. The opening melody sounds like a child’s song or a lullaby, the left hand plays but a few simple chords. The development becomes more complex, but the melody is never far away; the piece ends by returning to nearly the same basic simplicity with which it started. At the same time, that melody is a lovely one, tugging at the emotions and sticking in the mind.
Meanwhile, the dominant mood through the entire series of works is reflective, introspective, leaving behind the fire and passion of youth. (Try listening to this disk immediately after hearing the First Symphony or the First Piano Concerto; good heavens, what a contrast!) Gone are the complications and dense scoring of the orchestral works. There are frequent passages where the music can almost be played with two fingers, and many others where, even if more fingers are involved, we hear simple melodies and chords. But lest we forget, it still is Brahms, meaning that the musical intelligence shines through.
But that’s my concern with this set: the playing is very good, but there are so many choices, so many recordings of these works, that any new version needs to be very, very good, needs to bring some new insight, some new perspective, or some truly transcendent playing to stand out. As expected, there are no real technical issues here; Lewis obviously is a superb pianist. Everything seems perfectly fine; so far so good. But try as I might, I can't hear anything really special about these performances.
For example, in that deceptively simple Opus 117, Number 1, everything goes along smoothly, perhaps a little too smoothly, with not a lot of dynamic shading. In contrast, Radu Lupu’s playing in his classic 1987 recording of the late works is mostly very soft, but you always have the impression of controlled power, the feeling that he could let loose at any time, as indeed he does on occasion. Lupu maintains this tension through the entire work, practically forcing the listener to remain focused and attentive, waiting for the explosion that seems sure to come. Jonathan Plowright doesn't exhibit quite that same dynamic power, but there are so many lovely touches, particularly in modulations and transitions where he brings out Brahms cleverness in composition. Christophe Sirodeau's playing does not sound quite as smooth and refined as Lewis's; indeed, there are moments that seem almost a little clunky. But somehow the main impression is one of sighing beauty, the feeling that the whole surely is greater than the sum of the parts. Finally, in Arcadi Volodos’s 2017 recording of these late works, I hear a slowish but wonderfully shaded account that draws me in, hinting at mysteries to be revealed and thoughts not quite expressed.
Or take Opus 118 number 1. Again, Lewis does a good job in all respects. But Lupu starts with an introductory figure that swoops through the air, taking us on an audio roller coaster where every note is an adventure: we must keep listening to see where we'll end up on such a journey, even if the trip is very short. Plowright’s traversal of this work feels more like a sea voyage, as we climb to the crest of a wave only to tip over and slide down the other side, the dynamics of volume and tempo well-coordinated, the left hand providing a deep and resonant foundation. Volodos also gives us that sense of a journey that slows and speeds up, with notes cascading in waterfalls. Lewis is more workmanlike: the notes are all there, and there’s technique to burn; we can follow along, but we are not pulled along. I could go on, but you get the idea.
Naturally there are complications in terms of who is playing what. At the very least, the current set has the virtue of completeness: Op 116 - 119, everything there. Lupu’s album omits Op. 116 but includes the rest; Sirodeau's is an interesting recital that includes most of the intermezzi in this series but not all the pieces and with the order rearranged to boot; and Plowright’s coverage of the opus numbers is scattered across four different albums of Brahms’s solo piano music.
Lewis is not helped by the sound here. Sure, the digital recording is clear, with none of the odd artifacts that sometimes beset older analog recordings: no pitch instability, no weird distortions, no overloaded tape. However, there's also no localized piano; instead, we have piano sound spread between the speakers. For background listening, this would not be bothersome, but if one is concentrating, it is off-putting, and I suspect that it diminishes the sense of dynamism that these performances could use. I’ve been spoiled by a series of excellent piano recordings lately, so Harmonia Mundi’s effort here is disappointing.
Let me be clear here: when I say that Lewis’s performances are good, I really mean good, even though I'm not too happy about the recorded sound. If these were the only performances available, I would grab them in an instant. If Paul Lewis happens to show up in my area for a concert, I would be thrilled to go. I just don’t see this set displacing my favorites.
BH
To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:
To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:
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