|  Thirteen years have passed since the untimely death in 1989 of John 
        Ogdon at the age of 52, but none who experienced his special blend of 
        musical insight and technical brilliance will ever forget him. I last 
        heard him ‘live’ in the mid-1980s. By then, he had recovered sufficiently 
        from the dreadful affliction which had brought his dazzling career to 
        a sudden halt in 1973 to enable him to embark on a limited concert schedule. 
        Characteristically, it was not an old warhorse that he played on that 
        occasion, but the Second Piano Concerto of Alan Rawsthorne. True, 
        some of his old fire had deserted him, but he had lost none of his unique 
        charisma – I particularly recall the affection which he lavished on this 
        fine work. (A further reason for remembering this concert was that, if 
        my memory serves correctly, Sir Charles Groves was the conductor: another 
        musician notable for championing unfashionable causes.)
  
         So, this disc, which captures Ogdon at the height of 
          his powers, is to be treasured – especially since none of the tracks 
          emanates from a recording studio. Liszt, I suppose, is still a controversial 
          composer: for some, a deep musical thinker; for others, a bombastic 
          showman. Ogdon’s supreme virtue was his ability to reconcile these poles 
          of opinion. This is best illustrated in his explosive account of the 
          Mephisto Waltz no 1, where he combines amazing virtuosity with 
          seamless structural mastery. He also revels in the grotesque figurations 
          and harmonic distortions of La Campanella. Harmonies du Soir 
          is technically even more demanding: here, Ogdon sails through majestically: 
          he takes risks, almost all of which he surmounts. 
          
         Of the two concertos recorded here, I prefer the first. 
          In both, Ogdon’s command of filigree passage-work, bold declamation, 
          tender musings and – a particular characteristic – electrifying glissandi 
          flourishes are equally in evidence. And structural momentum is firmly 
          maintained throughout. The difference lies in the accompaniments. Both 
          conductors are in total sympathy with the soloist, but the Bournemouth’s 
          generally warm if a little ‘boxy’ sound is distinctly superior to that 
          of the BBCSO, which is unfocused and marred by coarse brass. Nevertheless, 
          unreservedly recommended. 
          
        
         Adrian Smith 
        
         
         
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