It is small wonder that so many pianists have chosen to include 
                  in their repertoire, and record, Janáček’s piano music. 
                  There is something hugely expressive and deeply emotional about 
                  it that pianists obviously relate to and relish the opportunity 
                  to convey. The sonata 1.X.1905, also known by its subtitle From 
                  the Street, was written as a direct result of an incident 
                  in which Janáček himself was involved. On that day there 
                  was a demonstration in Brno - capital of Moravia, now the Czech 
                  Republic, but then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire - by 
                  some German speakers and their supporters. This was against 
                  the proposed establishment of a Czech university in the town 
                  and, naturally, there was a counter demonstration. During this 
                  demonstration a young Czech joiner Frantiek Pavlík, was 
                  bayoneted by Austrian troops. Janáček, who observed this 
                  from the town’s meeting house and later attended Pavlík’s funeral, 
                  along with 10,000 others, was so moved by the event that he 
                  felt compelled to express his horror in music which had its 
                  premičre in January 1906. 
                  
                  We are lucky that the pianist who gave that premičre had the 
                  presence of mind to keep a copy of it since Janáček was 
                  dissatisfied and threw it into the Vltava river, having previously 
                  burned a third movement prior to its first performance. Something 
                  I believe is key to interpreting the Janáček works on this 
                  disc is the correct pace and tempo and knowing just how long 
                  a pause to leave on occasions. In the sonata Ivana Gavric has 
                  these aspects absolutely nailed making her performance nigh 
                  on perfect. In his piano music Janáček shows his mastery 
                  at reflecting the most heart-wrenching despair and all pervasive 
                  sadness. When the pianist is able to convey that too the experience 
                  is truly profound. This is an example of just that. The final 
                  note of Death which represents the moment when that occurs 
                  is really telling, being cut off from the completion of the 
                  phrase. Janáček’s On an overgrown path gradually 
                  grew, firstly following a request from fellow music teacher 
                  Josef Vávra for ‘the most beautiful Slavonic melodies harmonized 
                  in an easy style’. Janáček responded with an offer of six 
                  pieces he described as ‘moods’. These were written for harmonium 
                  and only later transcribed for piano. The six pieces were later 
                  given titles . Apart from the Piu mosso, which was not 
                  published in his lifetime but later became the first of the 
                  three pieces making up his Paralipomena, they remain 
                  as parts of the cycle of ten pieces known as On an overgrown 
                  path (Book One). The first five are descriptive of childhood 
                  memories. The next four represent his crushing grief at the 
                  death of his daughter Olga aged 21 in 1903. Janáček wrote 
                  to a musicologist friend about number 8 Unutterable anguish, 
                  saying ‘perhaps you will sense the weeping in it’. It is testimony 
                  to his ability to describe such emotions in music that you certainly 
                  can sense the tears. The tenth piece, which he had written before 
                  his daughter’s death, is entitled The Barn Owl has not flown 
                  away. It is inspired by a Moravian folk tale which says 
                  that if a barn owl - in another recording it’s translated as 
                  a tawny owl! - perches outside a window and screeches, but cannot 
                  be driven away, then someone in the house will die. On my Supraphon 
                  vinyl record of Ivan Klánský playing these pieces the translation 
                  is perhaps more descriptive as The bird of ill omen lingers. 
                  In any event it is a tragically apt piece with which to end 
                  the section portraying this terrible event in his life. 
                  
                  As with the sonata Gavric has the pace absolutely correct and 
                  the spaces between notes are finely measured. This makes for 
                  a quite thrilling musical experience and helps confirm these 
                  short pieces as sublime works for the piano, especially so in 
                  this case. 
                  
                  Following what is a really emotional, not to say harrowing, 
                  listen to the pieces describing Janŕček’s unbearable anguish 
                  at the loss of his daughter Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales 
                  come as a relief. Gavric shows she can reflect light as well 
                  as darkness though her forte is quite clearly most powerfully 
                  expressed in a sombre sound-world. It is interesting that these 
                  Valses were published in 1911 the same year Janŕček 
                  brought out his first completed book of On an overgrown path. 
                  Indeed Prokofiev began writing his second piano sonata only 
                  a year later. Gavric cleverly highlights the similarities between 
                  the works all of which require a subtlety in timing which she 
                  brings with consummate ease. Ravel was born 21 years after Janŕček 
                  and Prokofiev 16 years after Ravel. This shows in their more 
                  modern approach to their compositions. Despite the dates they 
                  were published being almost identical Janŕček’s writing 
                  clearly belongs to the previous century. Ravel’s more experimental 
                  sound is of the new 20th century. Prokofiev’s 
                  belongs firmly in the 20th century and could easily 
                  have been composed at least twenty or more years later. It is 
                  very modern in its sound. Prokofiev was a mere 21 when he wrote 
                  it, shortly after his first piano concerto was premičred. The 
                  playing here is again beautifully paced and with the necessary 
                  power. The first movement is particularly impressive as is the 
                  slow movement which is full of gentle delicacy superbly phrased. 
                  The last is a real whirlwind of cascading notes which make the 
                  abrupt end really telling. I hope she explores his music further. 
                  The whole disc is a real joy which I expect to go back to very 
                  often. I shall be looking out most keenly for Ivana Gavric’s 
                  next disc and if it’s anything like as good as this one it’ll 
                  be well worth waiting for! 
                  
                  Steve Arloff