With the significance 
                of the chamber, stage and symphonic 
                works of Dmitri Shostakovich so self 
                evident, it is easy to forget that the 
                great Russian composer was an accomplished 
                keyboard virtuoso, and poured some of 
                his most intimate and adventuresome 
                ideas into his works for piano solo. 
                This recital by Konstantin Scherbakov 
                is a treasure trove of delights, performed 
                to an extremely high standard. 
              
 
              
The twenty-four preludes 
                of opus 34 were clearly modeled after 
                the similar works of Chopin, right down 
                to their following of the same key scheme. 
                Although the likenesses are many, the 
                music is completely original and varied 
                in its moods and structures. Most impressive 
                is the economy of means that Shostakovich 
                employs to express so wide a range of 
                emotions and attitudes. Every possible 
                mindset is expressed from playful to 
                melancholy, brash to barbaric, lyrical 
                to thunderous. Scherbakov is a player 
                with a keen sense of form and style, 
                and he has technique to burn in some 
                writing that is certainly knuckle busting. 
                If one were to seek one word to describe 
                this set, perhaps ‘refreshing’ would 
                be the most accurate. Never long, these 
                little gems are "prick up your 
                ears" intelligent and refined. 
              
 
              
The Aphorisms composed 
                some years before the preludes are considerably 
                more far-reaching in their span of ideas. 
                Here the composer allows his imagination 
                to run free, and the formal structure 
                and tonal language is much more liquid 
                and experimental. Clearly works that 
                predate Socialist Realism, these are 
                thought-provoking and stimulating miniatures, 
                played with great subtlety and creativity 
                by pianist Scherbakov. 
              
 
              
Although nominally 
                in C major, the Sonata of 1926 shows 
                the composer at his freewheeling apex. 
                Sounds explode from the piano: harsh, 
                angular, florid and occasionally reflective. 
                The image of a young talent strutting 
                his stuff and pounding his audience 
                with music solely on his own terms comes 
                quickly to mind. Again, Mr. Scherbakov 
                delivers the goods wrapped up in gold 
                leaf. He roars and thunders with abandon 
                and throws off this difficult work with 
                seemingly effortless ease. 
              
 
              
The program closes 
                with the delightfully elegant Three 
                Fantastic Dances, one of the few 
                works written before the composer’s 
                significant First Symphony to remain 
                in circulation during his lifetime. 
                Utterly charming, this is four minutes 
                of splendid writing and playing. 
              
 
              
Naxos give us a recording 
                that is a little on the bright side, 
                but given the character of the music, 
                this is hardly offensive. Program notes 
                by Richard Whitehouse are concise and 
                informative. This recital is a fine 
                alternative to the run-of-the-mill piano 
                disc, and a worthy addition to any record 
                shelf. Highly recommended. 
              
 
              
Kevin Sutton 
                
              
see also review 
                by Colin Clarke