The jazz influence makes these two concertos—both fruits of the 1920s—a perfectly logical pair. Gershwin wanted to study with Ravel but the French composer, writing his Concerto six years after Gershwin's, picked up a few tricks from the other side of the Atlantic in his own masterly fashion.
Four years ago I compared ten performances of the Gershwin Piano Concerto for ''Record Review'' on BBC Radio 3. In the process I learnt much from a recording made by the novelty pianist Roy Bargy with Paul Whiteman and his concert orchestra in the early 1930s. Bargy was almost the only soloist prepared to take the opening piano solo at Gershwin's marked tempo. Others only too often subside into a romantic wallow that allows the work to fall apart early on. I found an authentic vigour in the show-biz tradition of sharp rhythms that Bargy shared with Gershwin himself; en route I admired the Labeque sisters in the original two-piano version on Philips; and finally I gave top billing to Roberto Szidon's 1971 recording with the LPO under Downes on DG, now available on Compact Disc. That performance benefited from Downes's intelligent reading of the score and showed how valuable it can be to have a conductor as well as a soloist. Both of Previn's recordings, including the EMI one selected here for comparison (also originally released on LP in 1971), are directed from the keyboard. Andrew Litton, living dangerously, treats both concertos this way.
Peter Donohoe's treatment of Rhapsody in Blue, with Rattle and the London Sinfonietta on EMI (12/87), is hard-edged and brittle, emphasizing that Gershwin's concert music is not merely in the tradition of Grieg and Tchaikovsky. By comparison with such an approach, Litton sounds bland and lacking in focus. The solo early in the first movement starts indulgently and as things go on there is no strong sense of direction. In the second movement, which is improvisatory to a fault, Litton paces well to begin with but the climaxes lack projection. In the finale, fluent enough, the stroke on the tam-tam (too often apologetic) comes off well in launching the big tune for the last time.
Wild's performance with the Boston Pops on RCA dates back to 1962. He's an effective Gershwin player in the romantic cast, but the recording is rather close. Both Wild and Previn have a slightly clangorous piano sound which aids the rhythmic bite but there are some problems of balance in both these recordings, which makes the new, well-engineered one on Virgin attractive.
There is formidable competition in the Ravel G major Concerto. Collard and Roge (on EMI and Decca respectively) have both been highly, and rightly praised: Michelangeli (also EMI) even more so. The two Frenchmen sparkle in the outer movements and both are poetic. The Italian is made to sound slightly heavy, but he is enchanting in the slow movement even though his two hands rarely synchronize in the opening solo. After this galaxy of established interpretations—not to mention the clarity of Werner Haas on Philips—I feared for Andrew Litton, directing and playing simultaneously. There is nothing too sensational but it is thoroughly musical, even if it lacks some of the wizardry of the Frenchmen. And again the orchestra sounds on top form. The tortuously high bassoon and horn solos in the first movement come off beautifully and there is a properly raucous E flat clarinet (rather close) early in the finale. Only a few details can be faulted. The moment when the piano solo gives way to a harp solo in the first movement leaves the glissandos almost inaudible, which reduces the magic. The recorded placing leaves the piano slightly remote in both works, a little disengaged.
Overall an imaginative release which offers a reliable, if conventional Gershwin and much to admire in the Ravel.'