Richter’s discography
is about as enigmatic as the man himself,
with a wide range of both studio and
live recordings floating in and out
of view, now on one label, now on another.
Recently I was reviewing the first volume
of his Das wohltemperierte Klaver
(on RCA) and wondering if this was
the same one that used to be on HMV
LPs, by courtesy of Melodiya. I now
understand that it was part of a batch
he made in Germany for Ariola-Eurodisc
but actually intended for Melodiya (so
it is the same one). And now
we have some Schumann from the Ariola-Eurodisc
sessions turning up on Regis! It is
certainly exciting to be getting a continual
stream of Richter performances from
all sorts of sources, but of course
it means we will never have it all gathered
neatly together in something like RCA’s
Rubinstein Edition.
Well, collectors, grab
this one!
Richter begins the
Etudes Symphoniques rather slowly
and pensively, with a wonderfully rich
sonority, but any thought that this
is to be a slow performances is set
to flight as the first study begins
its goblin-like march, and how warmly
he brings out the theme when it appears
in counterpoint against this music.
In the next Study he brings out the
romantic surge, and I was quite overwhelmed
at how different he could make the same
music sound on each repetition.
This, then, is one
of the fundamentals behind the greatness
of this performance – its continual,
dizzying inventiveness, the work apparently
moulded there and then before us. And
yet he can do all this without any of
the silly distortions lesser mortals
feel obliged to essay.
Another fundamental
of the performance is its clarity of
texture. In the third Study he is apparently
not using the pedal at all, so that
the right-hand arpeggios sound, not
like a harp but like a violin crossing
and re-crossing strings. While the melody
in the middle voice has all the warmth
of a romantic cello. A while back I
was remarking that Rubinstein in his
Chopin obtained such colour from the
piano with his hands that he
was able to be sparing with the pedal
in a way that would just sound dry with
the rest of us. And so it is with Richter’s
Schumann.
Yet another fundamental
is his rhythm. No. 4, which can sound
heavy and dogged, had me wanting to
get up and march around the room with
it.
And so I could go on.
This is very great Schumann playing.
Maybe not even Richter can convince
me that Schumann was not right in omitting
the six extra variations, but it’s marvellous
to have them played like this. I wondered
at first if the finale was not a little
low-key, but then I thought that Richter
was deliberately holding back in order
to give the theme an extra swagger each
time it came round, and so it proved.
So many great pianists
have given us this work that I couldn’t
claim any single version as the greatest,
but among the few that include the extra
variations this has to be the
classic.
Another Richter enigma
was the works he performed complete
versus those he performed only in part.
Given that it had to be either/or, most
of us would have preferred the complete
Fantasiestücke rather than
Bunte Blätter – a marvellous
cycle, yet in all his career he only
played six out of eight (I am indebted
to James Murray’s insert note for this
information). Still, he wanted to do
Bunte Blätter and he brings
it to life as few could. Not even he
can convince me that everything here
is on the level of the exquisite (and
exquisitely played) opening song, but
he fills the air with swirling sound
in no.2, he is quite fantastic in the
second of the album leaves (another
feat of unpedalled clarity) and sighingly
tender in the following slow waltz.
During the 8:54 of the March, wonderfully
intense and coloured as it is, I did
look a little longingly at Clara Schumann’s
metronome mark of 60 to the half-note
(Richter is much slower) and wondered
what it might sound like. Another highlight
is the oasis of tender lyricism which
appears in the middle of the carnivalesque
high-jinks (and Carnaval quotation)
of the trio to the Scherzo, while the
last piece of all has a cheeky sense
of humour. Now that’s something I didn’t
expect from this grim-jawed man.
The recordings haven’t
the bloom we would expect today, or
indeed of the best of those of 1971,
but they don’t let Richter down. Both
the sound and the interpretative manner
are well-matched to the live Tokyo recordings
(they might easily not have been). In
der Nacht is more warmly sung than
agitated but Traumes-Wirren is
absolutely sizzling – a knockout even
alongside the famous old Horowitz 78.
I can only repeat –
grab this!
Christopher Howell
Sviatoslav Richter (piano) 
