Beethoven is not a 
                composer that I’d readily associate 
                with Vladimir Horowitz. Nonetheless 
                it came as a surprise to read in Jonathan 
                Summers’ useful booklet note just how 
                little Beethoven he did perform. He 
                learned the ‘Emperor’ at the specific 
                request of Toscanini for a performance 
                in 1933 but even then he didn’t play 
                the work often in public thereafter. 
                This recording from 1951 is, therefore, 
                an interesting document. 
              
 
              
When I first listened 
                to this performance I wrote the following 
                in my listening notes: "Opening 
                flourishes are more display than rhetoric 
                – should combine the two?" In fact, 
                this was to prove a portent of much 
                of what was to follow. Reiner conducts 
                a brisk, no-nonsense opening ritornello. 
                When the soloist re-enters Horowitz 
                displays much brilliant finger work 
                but, frankly, that’s about all. I could 
                detect little relaxation and moments 
                of repose were almost non-existent. 
                In summary this traversal of what should 
                be an imposing first movement is much 
                too hard-driven for my taste. 
              
 
              
Matters improve somewhat 
                in the slow movement where Horowitz 
                makes an impressively poetic first entry 
                after Reiner has set the scene well. 
                For much of the time in this movement 
                Horowitz plays with a degree of feeling 
                that was absent in the preceding movement 
                though there remains an underlying directness 
                to his approach. The quiet piano chords 
                in the magical transition to the finale 
                are beautifully weighted and the third 
                movement itself begins with a lithe, 
                energetic spring. However, as the finale 
                proceeds the pretty relentless pace 
                becomes wearing and, as in the first 
                movement, the music is driven much too 
                hard for its own good. 
              
 
              
In summary this is 
                a febrile performance, which I didn’t 
                enjoy very much. I’d hesitate to say 
                that such a distinguished artist just 
                skates over the surface but I certainly 
                have heard many more probing accounts 
                of this profound concerto. 
              
 
              
With the Rachmaninov 
                Horowitz is on more familiar ground. 
                This concerto was a staple of his repertoire 
                throughout his career and the present 
                recording was the second of three that 
                he made. The others were made in 1930 
                for HMV with Albert Coates (Naxos 8.110696) 
                and in 1978 for RCA with Eugene Ormandy. 
                Coincidentally, that latter version, 
                in its LP incarnation, was the very 
                first recording of the work that I bought. 
              
 
              
Rachmaninov 3 seems 
                to suit him better than did the Beethoven. 
                Once again brilliant dexterity is present 
                in abundance. However, this time Horowitz 
                does seem to recognise the passages 
                where a bit more ‘give’ is appropriate 
                and he’s rather more willing to relax 
                in those pages. That said, the playing 
                still comes across as highly-strung. 
                There is some phenomenal playing in 
                the cadenza. 
              
 
              
The music of the second 
                movement is characterised by a vein 
                of melancholy and Horowitz conveys this 
                quite well, though I’ve heard other 
                pianists impart more feeling. He and 
                Reiner build the movement to a powerful 
                central climax and there’s some astonishingly 
                deft finger work in the following scherzando 
                episode. Horowitz attacks the finale 
                with bravura but in this movement I 
                did wonder if the performance wasn’t 
                just too much "edge of the seat". 
                Here, as elsewhere throughout both performances, 
                the orchestra tends very much to take 
                second place as the soloist pounds out 
                the virtuoso passages. In the last analysis 
                this is not a performance of the concerto 
                to which I warm greatly. 
              
 
              
Mark Obert-Thorn has 
                transferred these performances from 
                American LPs. He seems to me to have 
                done a good job. However, the original 
                engineering placed the piano very forwardly 
                and there’s nothing that Mr. Obert-Thorn 
                would have been able to do about that. 
                Neither, I imagine, was it possible 
                to correct the rather harsh, clangy 
                tone of the piano, especially in louder 
                passages. In places the piano just sounds 
                plain aggressive. 
              
 
              
This is a CD that will 
                be of interest to admirers of Horowitz. 
                However, even specialist Horowitz collectors 
                will probably be able to think of many 
                performances of both concertos by other 
                pianists that are more searching and 
                more rewarding than these. 
              
John Quinn  
                
                
                See also reviews by 
                Michael Cookson and Jonathan 
                Woolf