We’ve had a slight gap in Ronald Brautigam’s wonderfully stimulating 
                Beethoven sonata series, presumably while another fortepiano was 
                selected for the ‘Waldstein’ which, like other later sonatas, 
                requires a greater range from the keyboard. Another Paul McNulty 
                copy has been decided on, this time based on a Conrad Graf instrument 
                of around 1819. It’s subtly different to the Anton Walter copy 
                of earlier volumes, but still a perfect choice, with its bell-like 
                treble, warmer mid-range and slightly – as one might expect- more 
                sonorous bass register. 
              
Five sonatas sounds 
                  a lot to get on one disc, but of course three of them are little 
                  sonatinas of less than 10 minutes each. This does not make them 
                  particularly slight in content, and each of them shows different 
                  aspect of the mature Beethoven style. My own favourite is the 
                  G major of 1809, though maybe I’m slightly biased as it brings 
                  back memories of Associated Board exams in days gone by. It’s 
                  a glorious little piece, full of Haydn-esque humour and quirky 
                  little shifts in harmony. Predictably perhaps, but Brautigam 
                  relishes starting it at quite a fast lick, perhaps taking on 
                  board the Presto, rather than the alla tedesca marking. 
                  It is great fun, the fortepiano sounding ideal for the fast-running 
                  passages and cross-hand passages of the development.
                
The Op.78 F sharp 
                  of the same year is another marvellously subtle work, different 
                  in mood and tone but covering a lot of ground in its 9-odd minutes. 
                  It’s mellower and milder, a perfect counterpart to the G major. 
                  Here you may be thinking you’ll miss the sonority of a modern 
                  grand in those opening chords; not a bit of it, and Brautigam 
                  makes sure the balancing of the harmonies is not clouded or 
                  obscured.
                
The other ‘little’ 
                  sonata in F major from 1804 is quite a tough nut to crack. It 
                  starts amiably before moving into what Roeland Hazendonk’s note 
                  calls ‘the fiercely pounding, short-tempered melody’, as well 
                  as a finale that betrays a ‘similar hard edge’. This sounds 
                  like typical Beethoven to us, but as Hazendonk rightly points 
                  out, his contemporaries found all this sort of writing eccentric, 
                  though it proves meat and drink to Brautigam, who positively 
                  revels in the mood shifts and bursts of volatile energy.
                
That takes us neatly 
                  to the two ‘big’ famous sonatas on the disc. I really love the 
                  feeling of nervous energy that Brautigam imparts in both, particularly 
                  the ‘Waldstein’. It starts fast, but the lighter action of the 
                  Graf copy ensures articulation is spot-on, and Brautigam’s superb 
                  virtuosity is given free rein throughout. He is, as always, 
                  alive to all the subtle shifts in harmonic weight and pulse, 
                  as well as having a glorious sense of rhythmic pulse that just 
                  sounds right to my ears. Nowhere is this more evident than in 
                  those wonderfully vague meanderings before the development section 
                  (around 4:25) which are controlled expertly by Brautigam. The 
                  lighter action undoubtedly helps in the finale, especially the 
                  notorious glissandos at 8:12, which sound absolutely effortless. 
                  It’s a thoroughly superb overall performance, as indeed is the 
                  ‘Appassionata’. This is also faster than the maybe is the norm 
                  – especially the variation movement - but it just grips from 
                  start to finish. There is colour and drama, light and shade, 
                  personality in spades, the rhythmic precision we’ve come to 
                  expect but allied to a characterizing of the melodic lines that 
                  takes the breath away. It sits easily alongside the best recorded 
                  versions in my library, which I count as Barenboim (EMI), Goode 
                  (Nonesuch) and Kempff (DG), and is probably more viscerally 
                  exciting than any of them.
                
If you’re collecting 
                  this cycle, you’ll probably already have this. If you haven’t, 
                  and want the treat of hearing familiar music re-invented as 
                  new before your very ears, do buy this disc. Excellent audio 
                  quality as usual and stimulatingly different liner notes just 
                  put the icing on the cake.
                  
                  Tony Haywood