I found that Pollini’s
recent version of op.54 was unable to
convince me that the nickname "La
Dispassionata" which is sometimes
rudely attached to this sonata is unjustified.
Schnabel makes the opening minuet sound
absolutely lovely, with a gentle lilt
and a touch of gentle humour too. Even
the octave passages sound melodious,
not mere exercises. A movement which
had always seemed to me one of Beethoven’s
rare failures is revealed as a thing
of beauty. For this revelation, much
thanks. The finale sometimes sounds
confused, but since this seems to stem,
not from technical shortcomings but
from a desire to show that there is
much more inside it than the perpetuum
mobile most performers find, I feel
Schnabel is to be forgiven.
Likewise, you might
find tidier accounts of the "Appassionata",
but will you find one with more sense
of mystery and latent power in the soft
passages, more surging passion in the
more fiery moments, more profundity
in the slow movement (though the tempo
is actually not so slow)? Schnabel doesn’t
make life easier for his fingers in
the tumultuous finale, with the final
pages awesome indeed. Sometimes I might
prefer to hear this sonata unfolded
more patiently, but for sheer molten
inspiration this version is unsurpassed.
Probably I would usually
wish to hear op.78 unfolded more patiently,
but Schnabel’s impetuousness is enthralling
in its way, while op.79 is quite extraordinary.
This is often looked down on as one
of the "easier" sonatas, but
not if you play the outer movements
at Schnabel’s tempi. I found this a
salutary shock, only just the right
side of a gabble but with tremendous
verve and quirky humour. In between
the Andante is taken very slowly with
beautiful tonal shading and spontaneous-sounding
rubato; it is elevated to much more
than the prototype for Mendelssohn’s
Songs without Words that it usually
seems to be. As for "Les Adieux",
there are performers who aim to find
continuity in the stop-starting of its
first movement, and beauty in the apparent
clumsiness of some of the counterpoint.
Schnabel is truthful about all this,
revealing a sonata which already anticipates
the uncompromising world of the late
sonatas.
The recordings are,
of course, old, but quite frankly I
soon forgot that as I was caught up
in some of the most enthralling Beethoven
playing I have ever heard. And I must
say that Mark Obert-Thorn has succeeded
in making them sound less clangy than
they often do; to such a degree, indeed,
as to call into question one often-accepted
"truism". Schnabel, we are
told, was noted for his intellectual
control, his profundity, his truthfulness,
with the implication that lesser matters
like actually making a beautiful sound
rather passed him by. This is how the
recordings sound in most transfers but,
not for the first time, Obert-Thorn
has me wondering if we have accepted
this idea a bit too glibly. Certainly,
the artist who gives us the Andante
of op.79 could have played a Chopin
Nocturne as beautifully as anyone, had
he wished to do so.
Recommended with all
possible enthusiasm to those who are
prepared to forgo modern sound in the
pursuit of musical truth.
Christopher Howell
Artur Schnabel (piano) 