Mordacai Shehori, pupil of Mindru Katz, is a romantic
pianist to his fingertips and Rameau might not be thought to be his
métier. Clearly in terms of stylistic niceties this is true –
he plays the piano not a harpsichord – and these are very far from authentic
sounding performances in respect of sonority and aesthetic. Nevertheless
in terms of fluency and drive, he imparts to these works a sense of
intensity and animated life and importantly a sense also of their visual
and pictorial richness that succeeds in transcending objections – such
as there might be – to his incisive yet frequently sensitive romantic
pianism.
This is indeed a point to which Shehori refers in his
self-penned sleevenote; broadly summarized as acknowledging the essence
of the period in which the music was written (which does not necessarily
involve absorbing stylistic imperatives) whilst using the resources
of a modern instrument, in his case a Steinway D of 1914, to transcribe
– his word - the music in an acceptable way. In his own terms his buoyant
and rhythmically alert pianism is an affectionate transcriber of Rameau’s
pictorial dalliances. In the opening A Minor Allemande Shehori’s left
hand voicings are nicely chiseled and communicative; there is a nobility
here, a well-rounded and articulate humanity that hearkens back to the
pianists of the Golden Age. He succeeds one Allemande with another –
this time the E Minor receives a reading of stoic concentration, with
more strong, lively but not abrasive left-hand pointing and some romanticized
right-hand layering. Perhaps La Dauphine is rather pedal-fuelled
– it was written for a royal wedding and from its flurrying drama Shehori
evokes a proud scene.
I do however like the noble fluency he brings to La
Livri and the sense of abruptness to Les Tourbillons – the
latter means whirlwinds. The Gavotte Variée receives a
reading of real filigree, dynamism and intricacy whilst L’Enharmonique
brings a tremendous sense of life force with it as well as scintillating
rhythmic fillips. If La Joyeuse summons up the memory of Landowska
it’s a test that Shehori survives and one can but admire the evenness
of the trills in the exotic sounding but actually rather domestic L’Egyptienne
where Shehori throws in some left-hand accents and incremental gradations
of tone and ends with a decisive full stop. Elsewhere he responds well
to the delicacies and naughtiness embedded in these works whether the
chicken imitation (not overdone, therefore more amusing) in La Poule
or the saucy little caesurae in Le Lardon (The Satirist). He
is ingenious in Les Cyclopes and manages to open up a small vista
of philosophical depth in L’Entretien des Muses.
A most enjoyable disc; crisp, playful, rhythmically
sure, above all communicative – both of the music’s richness and Shehori’s
own obvious enjoyment and exploration of it.
Jonathan Woolf
Mordecai Shehori, piano 