Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (selection); Kurtág: Selections from Játékok. András Schiff, pianist. Lucerne Festival Historic Performances. Audite 97.838

These recorded live performances date from 1998 and 1999, when András Schiff was still in his prime and before he was beguiled by that dubious distraction of modern pianists: the period instrument. (If I never again hear a new recording of Beethoven or Schubert on the fortepiano, it will be too soon!) What it amounts to are a group of Scarlatti performances we didn’t know we needed but should be thrilled to have. Partially excepting a single one that I find slightly misjudged, these are all winners informed by the interpretive richness and precision of Schiff at his distinguished best.

We’ll start with my fly in the ointment: Sonata in D, K. 96, which occupies the very first track. Schiff infuses this with the wonderful colors and accentuation of inner voices that are his custom, but he overshoots with expressive rubato. Perhaps I am too influenced by Vladimir Horowitz’s iconic performance (on Sony SK 53460), but this piece calls more for exhilarating brilliance than it does for expressive probing. Schiff’s dramatic pauses, and extra time taken in the repeated-notes and passage-work sections, dilute that sense of brilliance a bit. For me this music needs consistency and drive for it to come off best. Despite lacking the tonal richness of Schiff’s take, Horowitz outdoes him here.

 

But putting this minor disappointment aside, I will admit that virtually the remainder of the Scarlatti renditions here are going right onto my Spotify favorites playlists. Much of Schiff’s success in these pieces comes down to shrewd repertoire selection. Nearly to a sonata do they play to his strengths mentioned above. While most of Scarlatti’s sonatas bear the stamp of his delightfully quirky musical voice, the ones on this recording plumb special depths. Moreover, most of them are not ones you hear too often. The result almost feels like a release of new repertoire, and certainly one that ought to feature prominently in the Scarlatti discography.

 

Some examples are in order. Schiff’s K. 518 in F replicates his K. 96’s gently halting pace, but the former’s aesthetic complexion is more relaxed and better suits such an approach. Moreover, the sudden shifts to chordal “strumming” (and other passages) allow the performer to accentuate the guitar-like flavor with which Scarlatti is often associated. It all works beautifully. Schiff’s K. 519 in F Minor shows him adopting a steadier motion that I wish his K. 96 had; it cruises along with a restrained breeziness. At least as good are the sonatas where Schiff can showcase his signature thoughtfulness. K. 513 in C and K. 426 in G Minor come readily to mind. Both performances illustrate why I prefer Scarlatti on the piano: their subtleties and deep wells of feeling are only enhanced by the capabilities of the modern instrument. Schiff exploits them to the fullest in these two numbers.

But my two favorite performances here are probably K. 394 in E Minor and K. 395 in E, one pairing among several that Schiff highlights. I often tell my students that Scarlatti’s sonata output is like the ocean: big stretches of it are seldom traversed. These two examples aren’t often chosen for star performer compilations (think the wonderful but ubiquitous K. 380 in E), nor even for the many one-off Scarlatti albums out there. But if you skip them, you’re missing out on unexpected glories. What of that sudden explosion of arpeggios (featuring chromatic-mediant harmonic juxtaposition) to head the second section of K. 394? It’s one of those instances where a simple gesture has more expressive power than it has any right to. In K. 395, the beginning of the second section again proves to be the linchpin for the entire work, with its brief sotto voce passage that prompts the listener to experience the surrounding material in new hues.

 

By way of concluding, I’ll admit to recently making a playlist of all 555 Scarlatti sonatas. The exercise took a long time because I wanted the best performances possible for each selection, and I was forced (if that’s the word) into a ton of listening just to achieve an approximation. The reason I mention this is that the exercise taught me a great deal, including the reality that even after all this time we are still living in the Wild West of Scarlatti recordings. There is a great deal of interpretive territory yet to be staked in repertoire that is endlessly explorable. Anybody who is even casually keeping track should buy this disc right away.