I remember once hearing a performance of this concerto, 
          in Capetown in the early 1970s and being struck by the sheer magnitude 
          of the work, its Mahlerian length, its Lisztian (Faust Symphony) 
          choral finale with men’s voices, and the ferocious difficulty of the 
          solo part which reflects its composer’s pianistic virtuosity. It was 
          almost as much a feat of endurance for the audience to listen to the 
          work as it was for the soloist to play it. Endurance was the name of 
          the game. Thirty years later its remains a revelatory experience to 
          hear it again, in the more than capable hands of Marc-André Hamelin, 
          who clearly has the measure of its technical demands, expertly accompanied 
          by Mark Elder and the CBSO choral and orchestral forces. It was John 
          Ogdon, in turn inspired by Ronald Stevenson, who kept it alive after 
          the immediate successors to Busoni had passed on (among them Mark Hambourg 
          and Egon Petri, this latter giving the British premiere in 1909). 
        
 
        
There are five movements each bearing a title, some 
          of them deceptively innocuous such as ‘Happy piece’ or ‘Sad piece’, 
          but it is more complex than that with the alternate first, middle and 
          last movements represented by Graeco-Roman, Egyptian and Babylonian 
          architecture respectively. The solo/orchestral relationship is quite 
          different from what one expects, much more equally defined and balanced 
          with the piano sometimes reversing role and accompanying the orchestra. 
          It is a work which almost seems to underscore the exhausted panoply 
          of Romantic harmony; it is time to move on after this culmination of 
          the Romantic concerto and it is indeed the summation of his youth and 
          he goes on to another musical language in his next works. The text for 
          the fifth movement, in which musical material heard during the preceding 
          hour is quoted, is a mystic hymn (sung in German by an invisible male 
          chorus) from a poem entitled Aladdin by the Dane Adam Oehlenschläger 
          (1779-1850), ‘Lift up your hearts to the Eternal Almighty, draw ye nigh 
          to Allah’. 
        
 
        
This is a landmark disc of an epic, landmark concerto, 
          one of the finest in the Hyperion series. 
        
 
         
        
Christopher Fifield 
        
Hyperion 
          Romantic Piano Concerto Series