This is volume 2 of András Schiff’s chronological traversal of
the Beethoven piano sonatas. I didn’t catch volume 1, which garnered
many positive reviews, but I have to confess to finding some frustrating
aspects to this latest disc.
As the booklet interview
with the pianist makes abundantly clear, Schiff has waited many
years to commit his cycle to disc, as a result thinking long
and hard about his interpretations. There’s no lack of quality
pianism on display here, but I do find a number of frustrating
decisions regarding phrasing and rubato. Examples litter
all the performances, things that might be regarded as illuminating
insights in concert on disc often come over as irritations.
The opening ‘Mannheim rocket’ flourish of the C minor certainly
grabs the attention as it should, but Schiff then makes a meal
of the bridge passage and second subject, pulling around the
melody and emphasising bass notes unnecessarily. He also speeds
up during the upward staccato scales at 1:05, which may be to
do with ‘live’ adrenalin but distorts the line. The lovely slow
movement, a real ‘song without words’, is most definitely adagio
molto, but the ‘outburst’, as Schiff refers to the downwards
arpeggio at bar 17, emerges as rather laboured, with none of
the surprise that, say, Richard Goode brings to it. The tiny
F major sonata is on the whole a success, its Haydn-esque cheek
and humour intact, though Schiff still makes rather a meal of
the little allegretto middle movement.
The biggest and
boldest sonata of Op.10 is the D major and this is largely enjoyable.
As throughout this recital Schiff observes all repeats, even
some unnecessary second half repeats, and in this sonata indulges
more than most in his Baroque habit of embellishing and introducing
ornamentation second time round. He even alters the opening
octave scale that starts piano and ends with a sforzando,
making the second time repeat end, for some unaccountable reason,
with a piano climax. He also ignores Tovey’s advice that
the appoggiaturas at bar 53 should be played as four quavers
rather than a grace note and two quavers; the first time I’ve
heard it done this way. I suppose he’s putting into practice
what he calls ‘the element of surprise’ that permeates these
scores, but it is a fine line between illumination and mannerism.
In many respects
the most successful performance is the Pathétique. He
voices the famous opening Grave chords very musically
and builds the tension beautifully to the allegro. Some listeners,
myself included, may raise an eyebrow at his decision to repeat
the introduction as well as the exposition, implying that the
opening is the first main theme. This is something such famous
predecessors as Charles Rosen and Rudolf Serkin apparently adhered
to, but it’s strange to hear it in practice. The slow movement
also makes one listen afresh, particularly the slow movement’s
middle section, where Schiff phrases the repeated triplet chords
as staccato rather than the usual smoother legato.
Schiff is apparently
using two pianos for the whole cycle, a brighter Bösendorfer
for the earlier sonatas and a richer Steinway for the later,
bigger sonatas. Even by his standards, his Bösendorfer is voiced
on the hard side, with an almost aggressive top end, something
the close recording only emphasises. Among the masses of competition,
I was reminded of Stephen Kovacevich’s EMI recording of Op.10,
but that’s more to do with Kovacevich’s brittle and forceful
tone than the piano. I’ve tended to stick by Richard Goode,
who is coupled identically and is a model of musicianly good
taste without a hint of the prosaic. Jenö Jandó’s glittering
fingerwork is also to be admired on Naxos, a superb budget cycle.
Schiff is too good an artist to ignore, but I would strongly
advise buyers to try and sample here. You may respond more positively
than I did, but this is a full price disc with loads of budget
and mid-price rivals.
Tony Haywood
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András Schiff (piano)
