There seem to be as many ways of articulating
the opening notes of Liszt’s B minor
Sonata as there are pianists to play
the work. Dubravka Tomsic, her octave
Gs dry, deliberate and meticulously
placed, comes as close as any to realising
the composer’s marking of quasi pizzicato,
a direct allusion to orchestral inspiration
in a work where the piano writing threatens
more than once to transcend the limits
of what is possible. Some passages,
immense though they are, are magnificently
conceived for the instrument, whereas
others, notably the big, cantabile
theme accompanied by pulsing, repeated
chords, don’t look like piano music
at all when viewed on the page. Each
kind of writing represents a very particular
challenge to the player.
The other challenge
stems from the work’s structure. In
a single, unbroken, half-hour span,
the conventional analysis nonetheless
traces a four-movement pattern; though
there is an argument, to which I am
sympathetic, for viewing it as only
three. In any event, the concentration
never flags, nor should it be allowed
to in performance. This is particularly
difficult to achieve in the studio,
with no audience present and the piece
played, perhaps, in short fragments.
I don’t know how long the takes were
here, but Tomsic is supremely successful
at tracing the progress of the work
from those ominous, opening octaves
to the final, low B.
I had never heard of
Dubravka Tomsic before receiving this
CD for review. She is Slovenian, and
studied with Rubinstein, amongst others.
The biographical notes accompanying
the disc suggest that she is particularly
well known in the USA, and playing of
this quality should encourage we Europeans
to hear her live at the first opportunity.
The piano sound is lifelike and convincing,
though recorded closely enough for us
to be able to hear the dampers on the
strings from time to time, particularly
in the sonata. The CD is beautifully
presented, with an excellent accompanying
essay by Benjamin Folkman featuring
several musical examples.
Perhaps the most striking
aspect of Tomsic’s reading of the Liszt
Sonata is the uncanny clarity of texture
she achieves. In passages teeming with
notes one is repeatedly impressed by
the control which allows for each note
to be heard. Judicious use of the pedal
and choice of tempo are obvious factors
here, but finger control is the most
important one, and it is near miraculous.
In a score so loaded with expressive
indicators pianists will inevitably
respect certain of them and choose to
ignore others. She is more faithful
to the score than many pianists. In
one of the later appearances of the
big theme already mentioned [track 1,
10.40] many of the note values are marked
staccatissimo. The composer’s
intentions are perhaps less than clear,
and many pianists simply ignore these
markings. Tomsic’s way of interpreting
them is individual and considered, and
the result is astonishing: huge, dark
chords that seem to resound in the soul.
This kind of thick, highly charged sonority
at the bottom of the keyboard is frequently
exploited in this work, but the pianist
brings out the different voices, so
often lost in a morasse of darkness
and confusion, with remarkable skill.
At other points we might be surprised
by certain of her interpretative decisions,
but they are almost always supported
by the score. She is less slow than
most in the passage leading up to the
final coda, for example [track 3, 8.38]
but a glance at the page reveals the
marking for this passage is Allegro
moderato, changing to Lento assai
only for the final eleven bars.
This is music-making
of the utmost conviction, satisfying
and apparently the outcome of a patient
quest as to how best the realise the
composer’s intentions. In Tomsic’s hands
the sonata sounds extraordinarily modern,
placing the composer firmly in that
continuum leading to Schoenberg and
beyond. There are many recorded performances
available, but it is this, I think,
which makes this one special for me.
Elisabeth Leonskaja (Warner) also delivers
playing of exceptional clarity, but
her performance overall lacks character
when set against this one. Arnaldo Cohen’s
recent, highly praised performance on
Bis seems more conventional and less
searching. Either of these performances,
though, would satisfy anyone wanting
to add the Liszt Sonata to their collection,
as would many earlier recordings, notably,
perhaps, that of Clifford Curzon. But
it would be a pity to miss this most
individual yet faithful reading, particularly
if the rest of the programme appeals.
The same clarity of
texture and expression characterises
the other pieces. The Black Gondola
is slower and heavier, more immediate
than Stephen Hough on Virgin, losing
perhaps a little in eeriness by comparison
but more grandly tragic and with an
almost overwhelming climax, a different
and equally valid view of the piece.
Hough turns in a performance of the
Mephisto Waltz of astonishing
virtuosity. Tomsic is less conventional
here, more thoughtful perhaps, with
greater delineation of the different
episodes of the story, and once again
very respectful of the text. To give
just one example, in the passage marked
Presto fantastico [track 7, 5.04]
the presto is so perfectly judged
that the fantastico becomes believable,
making us think of Mendelssohn’s (and
Shakespeare’s) fairies (though whether
the passage is also played pianissimo
as the composer asks is another matter).
The two Legends
are magnificently done. Hough plays
the first in his Virgin recital and
is highly convincing, but so is the
young French pianist Claire-Marie Le
Guay on an Accord disc featuring outstanding
performances of the two concertos. She
is particularly thoughtful in the first
Legend, but all the same it is
Tomsic who takes the palm, more successful,
I think, at integrating the difficult
accompanying figures – the twittering
of the birds, the rolling waters, displaying
once again the utmost clarity of texture
– which run alongside the main thematic
material in each piece. And Tomsic succeeds
in some extraordinary way at evoking
the very saintliness of the protagonists,
the second Legend in particular
closing in an atmosphere of unparalleled
goodness and grandeur.
William Hedley
Dubravka Tomsic, piano 
