Juliana Steinbach is a name that we don’t hear very often in the UK, which is a great shame given the prodigious talent demonstrated on this recording. France is luckier in this respect, or rather France has been the country that has nurtured her talents; Steinbach having moved there at a young age from her native Brazil to study with a succession of distinguished pianists, including Pierre-Laurent Aimard.
Debussy and Mussorgsky are composers whose piano repertoire
tends to be dominated by players from their respective countries,
so it is refreshing to get an outsider’s perspective on some
of their most famous works. The Debussy is quite muscular here,
but never to the expense of the mystery or the magic. Steinbach
has an assured touch and a clear vision for the phrasing structure
of this music. Use of the pedal is modest, but again, not overly
restrained. I particularly like the contrast that she achieves
between the quieter, wispy music and the more forceful chordal
passages. In Estampes, the forceful music tends to punctuate
the quieter textures, whereas in L’Isle Joyeuse the music
gradually builds to a declamatory finale. And what a conclusion
it is, bold and assertive, but never overpowering Debussy’s
delicate aesthetic.
Pictures at an Exhibition is, quite rightly, treated
as a showcase for styles, textures, and for all the different
facets of the pianist’s virtuosity. The Promenades are
brisk but steady, The Old Castle is wonderfully lyrical,
and the various louder passages are supported by an impressively
muscular technique. There is more rubato here than Mussorgsky
notates, which or may not prove controversial. It certainly
individualises the interpretations of many of the movements.
In The Market Place in Limoges, for example, the short
one- and two-bar phrases are often emphasised by a rit on the
fourth beat of many bars. And in Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle,
the ascending and descending run figures midway through are
performed at a tempo more or less independent of the rest of
the movement. But the general impression given by this performance
is of precision and clarity. The lengths of detached notes are
often on the short side, which may contribute to the sense of
order in the playing. The opening passages of Samuel Goldenberg
and Schmuyle and of The Hut on Fowl’s Legs are both
played very detached. Again, that’s not quite what is in the
score, although that is not to say you shouldn’t do it.
But whatever liberties Steinbach takes, both composers are
well served by this recording. The sound is good, if a little
distant. I have to say that I’m not very keen on the piano.
Juliana Steinbach has some sort of standing relationship-cum-sponsorship
deal with Blüthner, and this recording was made on one of their
instruments. It has a very 19th century sound, round
of tone, but with little projection and an uneven balance between
the registers. It suits the Debussy better than it does the
Mussorgsky, but I’d sooner hear both from a more crisply-voiced
instrument. Having said that, Steinbach is probably the ideal
advocate for an instrument like this; what it lacks in tonal
focus, she more than compensates for in clarity of articulation.
Gavin Dixon
Juliana Steinbach (piano) 
