Surely not another
Rachmaninov Second? Well yes. And I
for one will not protest. There's a
certain reluctance among professional
musicians and academics to admit that
music can be great and popular.
But I've always marvelled at this music's
skill and concentration, as much as
I'm persuaded by its emotional honesty.
And hearing these new performances leads
me to salute this extraordinary music
afresh.
These are very personal
readings by Lugansky, which follow in
the footsteps of his First and Third,
issued earlier this year. He demands
a great deal of Oramo with his rubato,
which some folk may find excessive or
mannered. When Rachmaninov provides
slow-moving or sustained backgrounds,
there is no problem. But, when orchestral
detail has to bend in order to accommodate
the soloist, the result is less convincing.
Even when the pianist is on his own,
it can be irritating to have the momentum
of a left-hand accompanying ostinato
disturbed on account of an indulgent
right hand: the brakes are often applied
in this way. Not surprisingly, there
are occasions - when an idea is stated
by the pianist, and then by the orchestra,
or more commonly vice versa -
when we get material stated both 'straight'
and 'bent'. But there's no rule
about consistency (or otherwise) in
such matters, and it may not bother
you as much as it bothers me.
In any case, this mildest
of criticisms is all I could possibly
level against these otherwise-ideal
performances, which are impassioned,
virtuosic and idiomatic. Lugansky plays
with a steely clarity and accuracy:
his piercing fingerwork (recalling the
legendary Richter-Wislocki partnership)
makes for some dramatic and incisive
climaxes, abetted by the feverish excitement
of Oramo's accompaniments. Similarly,
the sound is bright and detailed, rather
than warm. Warmth per se comes
more from within - and warmth, tenderness
and delicacy are there in plenty.
Of the countless alternatives
in the catalogue, I must mention the
Ashkenazy-Haitink collaboration, similarly
coupled, which I've always found especially
appealing, even though collected opinion
seems (almost unanimously) to be in
favour of Ashkenazy's previous recordings.
Its great virtue is Ashkenazy's discipline
- not the first quality you'd look for
in this music? - and the seductively
beautiful playing of the Concertgebouw.
Lugansky and Oramo are more visceral,
more masculine, and perhaps more in
line with Rachmaninov's wishes and expectations
- but not necessarily more satisfying.
Most would-be purchasers
with an eye for a new recording will
want either Lugansky or Hough, whose
recent complete set recorded in Dallas
won near-universal praise. It's a close
race, but compare the two of them in
the opening bars of the Second - Lugansky
expansive and exploratory; Hough much
less patient, treating it as a direct
line to the opening Allegro theme
- and you'll soon know which one you
want!
Lugansky's are wide-ranging
performances which encompass the entire
gamut of Rachmaninov's inexhaustible
emotional palette. Like the First and
Third before it, they can be enthusiastically
recommended.
Peter J Lawson
Nikolai Lugansky (piano) 
