The Wagner bicentennial celebrations continue apace, 
          with new recordings of all the operas, a raft of essential reissues 
          - including Klemperer’s legendary EMI sets and compilations - 
          plus a number of transcriptions; the latter encompasses a fascinating 
          set of pieces created for the Welte-Mignon Philharmonic Organ, once 
          destined for the 
Britannic (
review). 
          Then there’s the virtuoso’s delight, the showpieces transcribed 
          for piano by Liszt, Tausig, Busoni and others. 
            
          Liszt’s Wagner transcriptions are well represented in the catalogue, 
          with excellent performances by Leslie Howard on Hyperion and Steven 
          Meyer on Naxos; I also have very fond memories of a rather fine 
Tristan 
          prelude from Craig Sheppard, who captures the lift, loft and harmonic 
          ambiguities of the piece better than anyone I know. As for the multi-award-winning 
          Finnish pianist Risto-Matti Marin he’s new to me, but when I sampled 
          this disc prior to a full review I was impressed by his judicious blend 
          of flamboyance and feeling in music that so often veers towards the 
          former at the expense of the latter. 
            
          Marin casts off with a paraphrase on themes from 
Der Fliegender 
          Holländer by his compatriot, the Helsinki-born pianist Jukka 
          Nykänen. There’s plenty of snap in the sails at the start, 
          but Alba’s natural, well-balanced recording and our pianist’s 
          poised playing at the eye of this virtuosic storm are even more beguiling. 
          A promising start and a perfect 
entrée to the 
Spinnerlied 
          that follows. Marin is not at all fazed by Liszt’s dextrous demands, 
          and he phrases and articulates with astonishing assurance and style. 
          More important, there’s a human dimension here - a vulnerability, 
          perhaps - that’s rarely plumbed in this repertoire. 
            
          Despite Marin’s finely shaded account of Ernest Schelling’s 
          
Tristan prelude the piece is a little too facile for my tastes. 
          Liszt’s version is altogether more subtle and varied, and it has 
          an otherworldliness that Schelling’s earthbound effort simply 
          can’t match. That point is reinforced in 
Walhalla, Liszt’s 
          masterly paraphrase on themes from the 
Ring; he has an unparalleled 
          understanding of Wagner’s suspensions and harmonic structures, 
          while also preserving the nobility and breadth of this great music. 
          Marin brings out the latter with magisterial ease, every last flourish 
          superbly rendered by the Alba engineers. Happily that sonic excellence 
          extends to both the RBCD and stereo SACD layers. 
            
          The Belgian composer-pianist Louis Brassin’s take on 
Siegmunds 
          Liebesgesang from
Die Walküre has a winning transparency 
          and charm that’s irresistible, especially when it’s essayed 
          with such spontaneity and sparkle. Ditto the 
Feuerzauber, which 
          flickers and flares so mesmerically here. Marin is alive to every last 
          shift and shimmer of this piece, and it’s that heightened sense 
          of musical and dramatic proportion that enables him to navigate Carl 
          Tausig’s sometimes splashy 
Walkürenritt with such 
          aplomb. The plethora of runs and trills are just breathtaking; indeed, 
          I’ve seldom heard these airborne Amazons take flight with such 
          terror and triumph. 
            
          This disc has been programmed with great care, the more effusive transcriptions 
          sandwiched between those of interior delight, such as Brassin’s 
          delicately baroque 
Waldweben from 
Siegfried. Placing that 
          alongside the dark cortège of Busoni’s 
Trauermarsch 
          is equally inspired, for it highlights the composers’ different 
          styles and how fluently Marin adapts to their varying demands. His control 
          of touch and dynamics are most atmospherically demonstrated as the funeral 
          procession dissolves into the grieving mists. 
            
          What better way to end this ear-catching collection than with the amplitude, 
          splendour and simple piety of Liszt’s overture to 
Tannhäuser? 
          Once again I was struck by Marin’s ability to look beyond the 
          many points of light that make up the Abbé’s glittered 
          score and find so much warmth and feeling there. The work proceeds with 
          unforced vigour and momentum towards a chanderliered apotheosis. Quite 
          the most scruff-grabbing pianism I’ve heard in ages, and all so 
          well recorded too. 
            
          Magic and fire aplenty; Risto-Matti Marin is a pianist of style and 
          substance. 
            
          
Dan Morgan
          http://twitter.com/mahlerei 
            
          
          Magic and fire aplenty; Risto-Matti Marin is a pianist of style and 
          substance.