Charles
Chaplin declared that he had met only three geniuses in his
life: Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein and Clara Haskil. Practically
worshipped in her later years, Ms. Haskil suffered for most
of her life from everything from a painful spinal condition
to crippling self-doubt. Fellow Rumanian Dinu Lipatti was her
ardent champion. His early death left Haskil grief-stricken
- she was secretly in love with him - and without a mentor.
In spite of all these negative circumstances, Haskil would go
down in history as a goddess amongst pianists; a woman capable
of a musical passion and elegance practically unequalled by
her peers and a classicist of the highest refinement.
Such
plaudits are well in evidence in these 1950s vintage recordings
of Mozart. This is playing of such pristine clarity that in
spite of the somewhat muddy monaural sound, the listener is
instantly drawn in and held captive. Passage work is perfect,
each note a pearl on a strand. Phrases are nuanced to marble
smoothness.
Neither
is Haskil afraid of a little drama. More turbulent passages
are played with flare. Ms. Haskil always has the reins well
in hand though, never letting emotion get the better of a firm
sense of classical order and discipline. Slow movements are
played with love and tenderness, but there is never the slightest
hint of overt romanticism. Each melody evokes the rising of
the sun in the morning; each cadence is perfectly placed. It
is as though she composed each phrase herself, first sketching
her thoughts, then carefully revising and refining her ideas,
and then committing them to the page only when they had been
perfected.
Both
Otto Ackermann and Ferenc Fricsay provide well-balanced and
sensitive accompaniments, but it is in the sound of the orchestra
that the inferior sound quality becomes most obvious. Textures
are blurred by the less that clear sound and at times the boxiness
becomes a bit tiring. Nonetheless, these are performances of
such grace and beauty from the soloist that I have found myself
returning to these performances again and again, not only for
enjoyment, but also for instruction.
This
is a series that seems to be more about the performers than
the music itself, and as such the booklet note by the always
able Bryce Morrison is somewhat skimpy on information about
the works at hand. No matter, really. His compassionate yet
honest assessment of Haskil as a person and artist is insightful
and lends even more enjoyment to her nearly flawless playing.
There
are really not enough superlatives for this recording. Any music-lover
at any level should find something at which to marvel here.
Kevin
Sutton
see also Review
by Christopher Howell
