Much impressed by Alessandra Ammara’s recording of Giacinto
Scelsi’s Preludes,
I was more than enthusiastic about hearing her tackle these
‘essence of Romanticism’ masterpieces.
Given state of the art sound with an excellent piano recording,
every nuance of Ammara’s performance is held up for close
scrutiny, and to my ears she comes up trumps with just about
every aspect of Carnaval. This is one of those edgy,
almost literally schizophrenic pieces which darts between salon
waltz, manic joy and tender emotion. I’ve lately been
very much involved with the Eusebius and Florestan
movements of this work for reasons I won’t go into here,
but in many ways these two brief pieces sum up what I love about
this recording. Eusebius, in its oh-so- few notes, manages
to express the deepest sense of poetic sensitivity, introversion
and other-worldliness. Ammara’s touch makes the notes
rounded and small, almost reluctant to leave the soundboard
of the piano. This is without them becoming timorous or vapidly
ephemeral, conjuring more the image of a figure separate from
the bustle and vulgarity of everyday life - breathing the air
of flowers and gently sunlit perfection: vulnerable and untouchable,
as well as with a magical power to transform the atmosphere
around in an aura which is hard to forget. The alter ego Florestan
is of course impetuous and flighty, but that ‘memory of
a waltz’ is so beautifully placed here - a real sense
of a wave of nostalgia at first putting the brakes on our hero’s
sense of hectic fancy. This then of course breaks free and dances
off without a care, though not without a sense of danger, to
go off and dance with the Coquette.
All of these things occur within such fleeting moments, but
Alessandra Ammara has clearly considered and weighed every bar,
and every note in every bar, and the dimensions behind each
note - all in an effective communication of Schumann’s
difficult but magically narrative musical language. The Papillons
flutter, the Lettres are very Dansantes, and the
sense of Passionato, the spirit of Chopin and
Paganini all have their own sense of individuality and
strength of character, the moods portrayed and personified,
the style and personality of Schumann’s idea of those
colleague composers grasped and communicated to the full. There
may be no such thing as a perfect recording of this piece, but
if this is true then it is because the perfect performance would
have to be some kind of live experience, the interaction of
performer to audience creating some kind of alchemy which is
impossible from a recording.
This is a performance which leaves no stone unturned, and which
grips from beginning to end, and I am full of admiration for
Ammara’s craft in achieving this.
Ammara almost seems to conceive the Davidsbündlertänze
as a continuation of Carnaval, and in any case the programming
is logical, with the former ending with the Marche des “Davidsbündler”
contre les Philistins. Of course the moods of the two pieces
coincide, with quotations leaping from the one to the other
like fleas between livestock. Once again the quicksilver twists
and turns take the listener on a convention-defying roller coaster
of emotional highs and rare depths, and the performance here
is both sensitive and exciting.
Comparing this recording of the Davidsbündlertänze
with András Schiff’s 1995 Teldec recording highlights
Ammara’s colourful and often more intimate playing. Take
the fourth micro-movement, Ungeduldig, and we hear Schiff
in full concert mode, exciting and loud, but having launched
from a position of high impact having nowhere to go but louder
and more. Ammara pulls back as much as she pushes on, and the
duality of the rise and fall allows the melodic shape to remain
expressive, despite some bracing and dynamic finger work elsewhere.
Like Eroll Garner, her melody can seem to float on a different
plane to the accompaniment, the fractional delay creating an
extra layer of expressive content. For a visual comparison I
am brought to Matt Groening’s animation. The sophisticated
hand movements in ‘The Simpsons’ is done with the
similar kind of flex and delay which Ammara applies in her Schumann
melodies. You can see this effect best if you can slow down
the action by thumbing through one of those flip-books in slow
motion. Once you are aware of what is going on you can see it
all over the place in those cartoons, and very effective it
is as well.
To my mind this recording is something rather special. There
are magical moments all over the place, and the richness of
variety in colour, breathtaking sonorities and breadth of expression
which Alessandra Ammara brings from a bunch of hammers and metal
strings stretched over a plank of wood is something which remains
eternally fascinating. This is of course all in the service
of a rather special composer. As I grow older I find Schumann
able to offer more and more in terms of a good emotional musical
workout, though only with the particularly alive and closely
observed kind of playing we get here. Schiff’s recorded
performance is very good, and has been and remains highly regarded,
but now I know why I found myself listening to it less and less.
While his sensitivity and touch in the quieter movements can
be poetic and elsewhere he is visceral and exciting, his dynamic
extremes can be brutal and splashy in comparison to Ammara.
She has no lack of contrast and can convey plenty of masculine
force, but always seems to have power held in reserve: a sense
that the explosions are climactic, but in terms of emotional
impact rather than the kind which is more akin to a strike to
the head with an aluminium baseball bat - impressive and immediate,
but cold and ultimately less personal in terms of communication.
If I don’t choose this as one of my discs of the year,
put it down to administrative error.
Dominy Clements
see also review by Gavin
Dixon
Alessandra Ammara (piano) 
[69:22] 
