This excellent CD should
be regarded as good news for Grieg lovers
everywhere, since it is billed as the
first volume of what Naxos plan to be
a complete edition of his music. Naxos
has already done great things for Grieg’s
piano music (all fourteen volumes of
it, played by Professor Einar Steen-Nøkleberg,
who has made a lifetime speciality of
its performance and interpretation,
including the definitive book on the
subject). If this recording is anything
to go by, the rest of his oeuvre is
going to receive similarly sympathetic
treatment.
Most buyers will probably
buy this disc for the Piano Concerto
(as Naxos clearly intend, packaging
the jewel-case inside an extra cardboard
sleeve giving the Piano Concerto
top billing). The rest of the disc,
though, is also well worth having; the
opening piece is the (now) rarely-heard
concert overture In Autumn, which
used to be a Beecham speciality and
which that conductor recorded on a famous
all-Grieg LP made in 1956. Comparison
between the two does not in any way
find the new performance at a disadvantage.
Engeset secures clear textures, crisp
articulation from the strings and plenty
of rhythmic discipline throughout the
piece and, although some of the woodwind
phrasing in the slower central section
is not as immediately characterful as
that to be found on the Beecham recording,
the vivacity of the outer sections more
than compensates. The acoustic of the
Henry Wood Hall in Glasgow adds a pleasing
bloom to the string tone and the recording
is balanced very naturally. The dynamic
range is just as you might find in the
concert-hall and, all in all, the overture
is given a splendid and rousing performance.
The same goes for the
Symphonic Dances which, although
nowhere near as impressive as Rachmaninov’s
later work of the same name, is probably
Grieg’s most imposing work for orchestra
alone (and certainly more successful
than his early Symphony). The
four sections are designed along similar
lines to the standard four symphonic
movements, but Grieg does not seem to
have objected to one of the dances being
played on its own. Beecham, again, was
fond of the second, which he recorded
in the collection mentioned above. The
four dances are based on Norwegian folk
tunes and are full of charming
melodies; to a great extent, they are
a Scandinavian version of Dvořák’s
Slavonic Dances and are
equally imaginatively orchestrated.
Grieg’s skills as a miniaturist are
very much in evidence here and the RSNO
give as winsome a performance of each
movement as one could wish. The slightly
spare string tone adds to the delicacy
that the orchestra achieves and I would
put this some way ahead of the recording
by the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra
conducted by Neeme Järvi on DG;
the weight of sound on that performance
overpowers the work in places. You need
look no further than the very opening
bars of the first work to hear the rhythmic
bounce that adds so much to the present
performance; the string exchanges that
follow (track 5, 0’51") typify
the crispness of approach that characterises
the entire performance. In short, this
is as good a performance of this work
as one will find, and of itself makes
the disc an excellent buy.
What, then, of the
Piano Concerto? Competition here
is extremely thick on the ground and
includes some of the biggest names imaginable,
with particularly highly regarded recordings
by Kovacevich, Lupu, Curzon, Perahia,
Lipatti and Michelangeli to be taken
into consideration. Personally, I have
never understood the fuss made of the
Kovacevich and Lupu recordings of this
work, since both seem to me to be too
pedestrian to convey the full power
of what is, after all, a truly magnificent
work. Although beautiful and poetic,
these two performances always strike
me as reinforcing Debussy’s remark that
Grieg’s music was a "pink sweet
stuffed with snow" rather than
dispelling that image. Perahia and Curzon
both convey all the poetry that one
could wish for but with much more drive
(Perahia especially, in a live recording)
in the outer movements. Lipatti, with
all the drive and poetry one would wish,
seems to tap into the essence of Grieg
with uncanny sympathy – a characteristic
mark of almost all of his relatively
small number of recordings, but since
his recording was made in 1947 the sound
may be a barrier for some listeners.
In terms of sheer bravura and astonishing
élan, though, Michelangeli is
far ahead of all others on the BBC Legends
release of a live 1965 performance.
This present performance,
then, has a great deal to live up to.
Fortunately, it does and, minor quibbles
aside, I would say that it deserves
to be regarded as one of the best recordings
of the work to have appeared in recent
years (certainly since Perahia; I felt
that last year’s much-praised release
played by Leif Ove Andsnes was good,
but not marked out by any particularly
individual touches). The first movement
is delivered with a judicious mix of
panache and coolness and, in the famous
opening flourish, Gimse drives the music
hard, which I have always felt is the
best way to give this music’s athleticism
fullest exposure. The whole movement
is rhythmically strong and the only
criticism I would make is that, at the
very end (track 2, 12’30") where
the opening chords return, Gimse slows
down before accelerating to the end.
This is exactly what he does at the
start so it is valid enough, but where
the start allows room for the rhythm
to be slightly distended like this,
the end of the movement really needs
strong forward momentum to have its
fullest impact and, here, is awkwardly
held up. That apart, though, the movement
goes splendidly and the strings particularly
achieve a beautiful veiled tone in their
many piano passages.
The second movement
is particularly successful as Gimse
strikes a perfect balance between dreaming
and movement. Too often, the embellishments
are stretched to breaking point by soloists
trying to be ‘poetic,’ but Gimse makes
them sparkle as well (would the image
of ice droplets on trees alongside a
fjord be too fanciful?). The orchestra’s
contribution in this movement is superb;
Engeset has obviously gone to some trouble
to balance the string lines so that
they are all audible (listen for the
inner lines at track 3, 1’25"),
where the accompaniment is so often
reduced to generalised romantic mushiness.
The pause between the solo horn’s repetition
is not over-long, either (1’48").
The finale has plenty
of energy and, although Gimse does not
match Michelangeli’s hair-raising virtuosity
in the coda (who does!?), he still whips
through the split octaves very swiftly
(track 4, 7’41"ff). The only slight
disappointment in this movement is that
magical moment where the flute solo
appears (2’50"), as it is played
rather too gently to give the ideal
impression of a vista suddenly opening
up. The close microphoning also means
that the flautist’s every breath is
audible, which rather takes away from
the seamlessness of the line. Gimse
is certainly able to crank up the voltage
in the coda and this makes for a rousing,
weighty conclusion, including some excellent
work from the brass. The only minor
problem here is that the piano itself
does seem to be suffering a bit by the
end. I felt that it sounds a little
underpowered throughout, especially
at the bass end, but this may be more
to do with Gimse’s wish to avoid gratuitous
rhetorical noises. In any case, there
is a brief patch of ugly tuning at 9’30"
in the last movement; in concert, this
would pass by unnoticed, but might be
a bit jarring on repeated listening.
This, though, is a very small point.
All in all, this is
a most impressive disc, with two superb
performances of the orchestral works
and one of the most individual readings
of the Piano Concerto to have
come along in over a decade. At budget
price it is worth anyone’s money and
is the perfect place to start a Grieg
collection.
Em Marshall
see also
review by John Phillips
Håvard Gimse (piano) 