Both Rattle and Zimerman
are revisiting the D minor Concerto.
The conductor presided over a recording
with Leif Ove Andsnes (EMI 556583-2
with the City of Birmingham Symphony,
1998) and Zimerman reprises his much
earlier 1984 recording in Vienna with
Bernstein, a recording he here explicitly
condemns for poor acoustics and for
the inferior piano he was forced to
use after the original choice failed
to arrive in time: "good for Mozart
but not for Brahms." In an over-stocked
market one may argue redundancy for
this new disc, even given such big names
but as Zimerman notes, his last recording
was twenty years ago and the "single
moment" of a recording is only
that – a single moment. He also admits
to having listened to over eighty different
recordings of the work – about 75 more
than any critic would dream of listening
to - but then Zimerman is highly unusual
in his perceptive appreciation of recordings,
especially older recordings, and the
nature of transfer philosophies. In
that respect he may well be unique amongst
contemporary executants.
Structurally speaking
this is a relatively broad reading.
The first movement is not as slow as
the Gilels-Jochum but it is slower than
the very fallible Rubinstein-Mehta and
nearly two minutes slower than the powerful
and much earlier Rubinstein-Reiner.
Similarly at 23.27 it sounds leisurely
next to Serkin/Szell (21.08), Curzon
– with Jorda (21.11) or Szell (22.15)
- much less Backhaus/Boult (19.10).
We should ignore the live 1935 Horowitz/Toscanini
(17.04) as an aberration. The consensus
is interesting inasmuch it gives one
an idea of the greater drive imparted
by some partnerships but the salient
feature is the question of tempo relationships.
Here my concerns centre principally
on the opening movement, though also
in the second. The finale hardly plays
itself but it is less in danger of structural
imbalance.
The difference, it
seems to me, between the admittedly
slow Gilels/Jochum and this slightly
quicker Zimerman/Rattle first movement
lies in the inevitability of phrasing
generated by the former partnership
and the ancillary conveyance of tension
and line. Rattle and Zimerman have clearly
thought hard about the structure and
elasticity of this movement but the
unsympathetic may baulk at the precious
orchestral pianissimos and the rather
paragraphal approach. Whilst much of
the playing is quite splendid, abetted
by a first class recording which is
clear and natural sounding, the sense
of tension sapping away at the very
start of the concerto is worrying and
unconvincing. A master accompanist such
as Szell could easily accommodate profoundly
differing approaches to this work –
note the way he follows Curzon’s and
Serkin’s altogether different readings
without any loss of drama or conviction.
Yes, the orchestral perspective is revealing
– the flute’s cantilena, the striking
double basses – but for all Zimerman’s
crystalline chording, much of it quite
magnificent in its clarity, his approach
inevitably shares a certain marmoreal
and "sensitive" ponderousness.
For all their basically slow tempi here
one never ceases to marvel at the way
in which Gilels and Jochum accommodate
incident to the greater whole.
The slow movement’s
introspection operates on a similarly
broad plain and I know of relatively
few recordings that are slower. In his
recording with Szell, Curzon was fractionally
slower, though with Jorda he adopted
a healthy 14.19, which broadly aligned
with Gilels/Jochum. The question here
is one of corporate restraint and the
promotion of an essentially static hauteur.
For all their delicacy, the fact of
the matter is that slowness is not necessarily
an indicator of expressive depth, and
the exploration of dramatic pianissimos
argues perhaps for an immediate verticality
of response rather than lateral perception.
The finale, however
goes well. There’s a rejuvenating spring
in the step and a drive to the rhythm.
Zimerman’s evenness of trills is special,
the Berlin horns and lower strings score
highly and are warmly and finely recorded.
There’s a Schumannesque clarity to the
soloist’s passagework that can upstage
smudgier performers of repute. And performers
who indulge the pedal here should lend
an ear to Zimerman.
Conclusion? A strong,
personalised reading but one that will
divide opinion. The orchestral accompaniment
lacks a true sense of inevitability
and tension. Jochum’s linearity is not
in evidence, Szell’s sympathetic but
not indulgent drama is similarly missing;
in this respect the soloist is equally
responsible.
The Concerto comes
without any filler, if that’s not too
infantile a word, but I understand it’s
issued at mid-price to compensate for
running fifty-one minutes.
Jonathan Woolf
Krystian Zimerman (piano) 
