I have to admit to a
certain amount of frustration with this latest disc from
Oleg Marshev. So much is fine, articulately and warmly
phrased, and imaginatively, communicatively done. His Scriabin
performances are in the main examples of a superior technical
and colouristic mind at work, and there are times when
his playing is rapturously expressive. But there are other
times when the volatility of his playing endangers the
musical argument and comes at too high a cost.
One
thinks principally of the quartet of Chopin pieces in this
respect. The Ballade begins well enough with an accomplished
unveiling of the Marshev tone, which is frequently alluring
and beautifully voiced. But gradually as things move through
the musical spine of the work a damaging thoughtlessness
seems to seep into his playing. Lines become blurred and
Marshev starts to rush with unmerciful haste, losing all
semblance of direction as he does so. The result is exciting,
certainly, but heedless of musical architecture. The Op.34
Waltzes are somewhat better but are vitiated by an unnaturalness
of rhythm. It’s a perplexing state of affairs because he
can be so sensitive a player.
His
also has a trio of Liszt powerhouses to parade.
Funèrailles is
brilliantly dispatched and shows Marshev’s virtuosic chops
in their regal glory. And yet if one turns to Earl Wild – in
a collection of concert recitals on Ivory Classics – we
find no less technical command and a rather greater sense
of paragraphal momentum. Where Marshev moves in fits and
starts Wild takes the piece in one bound. This waywardness
also affects the
Rapsodie espagnole and it does
from time to time also manifest itself in the Scriabin
pieces, finely though these are played.
These however are certainly
the most impressively interpreted pieces in the recital
even though admirers of, say, Sofronitzky might find Marshev
a little too lateral and lacking in vitality from time
to time. In the main however his warmly textured approach
works well on its own terms.
So,
frustrating interpretatively although there’s no gainsaying
Danacord’s splendid recording or the resplendent sound
of the piano.
Jonathan Woolf
see also review by Patrick Lam
Oleg Marshev
(piano) 
