Let me nail
my colours to the mast and say that, although I am a convert
to period instrument performances, I have never been a fan
of fortepianos, especially in music after Haydn. Even luminaries
such as Melvyn Tan, Andreas Staier and Malcolm Bilson, superb
players as they are, have not been able to make me enjoy
hearing famous sonatas played on an instrument that at best
sounds like an out-of-tune pub piano, with clattering keys
and zero sustaining power.
So my surprise
at the quality of the present disc is such as to make me
eat my words. I had realised that Volume 1 had some very
positive reviews, not least in these columns, and I have
been an admirer of Brautigam’s fiery, positive playing for
some time. However, it’s fair to say that my breath was
taken away by the mixture of superb instrument, vital, energetic
playing and crystal clear recording. First mention must
be of the piano, which is one of the real stars of the show.
Maybe it’s because it’s a copy, using sturdier modern materials,
but action and pedal noise are virtually inaudible. The
tonal range also seems far greater than anything I’ve experienced
with these types of instrument before; the top has a bell-like
clarity, mid-range is nice and even and the bottom end is
far richer than I expected, allowing Beethoven’s daring
harmonies and thunderous bass lines to jump out of the speakers
with astonishing impact. The tuning and regulation appear
spot-on, with the piano taking everything that Brautigam
(and Beethoven) can throw at it.
All this would
not really matter, of course, if the playing were limp,
anodyne or just plain dull. No chance. These Op.2 sonatas
were written for the young virtuoso pianist/composer to
show off his gifts and Brautigam relishes the challenges
they offer. Right from the start of the F minor, where Beethoven
takes the Haydn-like upwards arpeggio and turns it into
a gesture of defiance, we are aware of a new kid on the
block in Vienna, someone who demands to be heard. Brautigam
understands this, spitting out the line and its answer with
an almost venomous glee. His technique is phenomenal, no
doubt helped by the lighter keyboard action, so that even
the most hazardous passages, such as the notorious broken
octaves in the A major’s first movement (1’19, track 5)
are totally accurate. Slow movements often suffer with a
period piano, but not here. Brautigam chooses sensible speeds,
keeping a flow and momentum without losing poetry, and the
piano really behaves itself for him, with plenty of even
tone and resonance. Finales have rhythmic buoyancy that
is simply invigorating, as in the wonderful Rondo of the
C major, where Brautigam’s refusal to rush lets the tricky
embellishments be incorporated with relative ease. I have
at least four complete cycles of the Beethoven sonatas (Jando,
Goode, Barenboim (EMI) and Kempff’s mono cycle) and have
always loved these early Op.2 pieces, but I have to say
even this illustrious company has not bowled me over in
quite the same way as this BIS disc. I agree with Michael
Holden’s Observer review that after the fire and brimstone
of the Op.2s, the two little sonatas tucked away at the
end are almost an anti-climax. Almost certainly written
for pupils to play, and hence sounding innocent and technically
undemanding, they still offer delights in the right hands.
I do love Brautigam’s straight-up simplicity, letting the
music do the talking, which is not to say it’s ever boring
– the delightful finale of Op.49 No.2 has never sounded
so lilting or lyrical.
If future discs
keep up the standards of the first two, this cycle will
be one to be reckoned with. At over 81 minutes it’s exceptional
value anyway, but the playing is of star quality, and even
the quirky artwork is being followed through. Go on – rediscover
your Beethoven sonatas!
Tony Haywood
Ronald Brautigam (fortepiano
by Paul McNulty, 2001 after Walther & Son c.1840)
[81’04]
