20th-century works

Grandiose and gaudy it may be, but in the right hands the Piano Concerto by Khachaturian, composed in 1936, can still be a stirring experience. It was a regular staple of the LP racks, with recordings by Peter Katin, Mindru Katz, Moura Lympany, Alicia de Larrocha and many others. More recently it’s found fewer advocates. A version by Boris Berezovsky (2006) suffered from poor recorded sound and a lack of real conviction, but now we have a new version that is unapologetic about the piece and makes a persuasive case for it. Jean-Yves Thibaudet’s muscular but eloquent sound and the flamboyant accompaniment of the Los Angeles Philharmonic under Gustavo Dudamel are perfectly suited to this work, and they relish its swashbuckling qualities while also bringing out the poetry (particularly in the slow movement, complete with its gently wailing ‘flexatone’ – a musical saw). Superbly recorded, this version can sit comfortably alongside the finest earlier recordings on musical grounds, and it has far better sonics than any of them. Right from the opening bass-drum thwack, the superior sound means that more of the orchestral detail comes through, and Thibaudet clearly loves this piece: the virtuoso sweep, rhythmic clarity and colour of his playing are a constant source of delight. As fill-ups there is a selection of solo pieces, including Thibaudet’s own transcription of the Adagio from Spartacus along with six pieces from the Pictures from Childhood and Masquerade Suite, all performed with conviction and polish. A terrific recording – I really can’t imagine the Concerto being done better (Decca 487 0877).

The 14 piano sonatas by the Soviet composer Anatoly Alexandrov (1888-1982) were written between 1914 and 1971. The earliest of them show the influence of Scriabin and Medtner, while in his later sonatas Alexandrov maintained a traditionalist (and rather anachronistic) voice: occasional moments of chromaticism (the start of Sonata No 13) sit alongside the benign diatonic writing of Alexandrov’s last sonata – No 14 – composed in 1971. The most interesting sonatas are those from the 1920s. As an example, the dramatic opening of the Fourth Sonata (1922) is hugely impressive, as is the whole of the first movement, full of strong ideas, imaginatively developed. Clarisse Teo’s performance is excellent, if lacking something of the headlong momentum of Hamish Milne (Hyperion) or Victor Bunin (Melodiya LP) in the same work. But the important thing about this set is that it gives us the opportunity to hear all of Alexandrov’s sonatas – a substantial body of work – and to chart his stylistic evolution from Medtner disciple to his most striking pieces from the 1920s (Sonatas Nos 3-6), the fine Sonata No 8 (1939-44), which sounds like an escape from (rather than exploration of) the horrors of war, and then to the more modest late works. The set is well recorded, and comes with detailed notes by Teo herself. Connoisseurs of Soviet-era piano sonatas should not hesitate (Divine Art DDX21375).

Any new version of Messiaen’s Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus comes up against outstanding versions from Yvonne Loriod (for whom the cycle was written) and, more recently, Pierre-Laurent Aimard, Roger Muraro (both Loriod pupils) and Steven Osborne – perhaps the best of the lot, though among earlier recordings I am still extremely fond of Michel Béroff’s brilliant EMI set. Now we have a new recording from Ciro Longobardi, an Italian Messiaen specialist who recorded the Catalogue d’oiseaux a few years ago. This set of Regards was made in 2023 using a Fazioli piano. There’s no doubting Longobardi’s virtuosity, but I can’t pretend to like the sound of his instrument: it seems a little muffled and thick in the lower register and lacks brilliance at the top. The result is that several of Messiaen’s most glorious moments lose their dazzling colours and resonance – a particular problem in the ‘Regard de l’Esprit de Joie’, despite the capable playing. The likes of Osborne and Béroff have a stronger sense of forward momentum in this music, and they also bring greater intensity to the more inward-looking Regards. The very first of them is well played here, but the voicing of the chords is compromised by the instrument, and Longobardi’s performance doesn’t quite draw me in as it needs to. The coupling is the late Petites esquisses d’oiseaux. Again, these delicious miniatures are well played but don’t offer serious competition for the best alternatives (Piano Classics PCL10246).

Max Reger’s music is often accused of being more notable for its dense textures and contrapuntal complexity than for its inspiring ideas. A new recording from Dynamic should go some way to dispelling that myth. ‘Valse d’amour: Miniatures for Piano’ is an intelligently assembled collection of shorter pieces composed between 1896 and 1916, played by Luigi Palombi. There is a lot of attractive music here with Reger at his most relaxed, in pieces that are occasionally indebted to Schumann and Brahms but also have plenty of Reger’s distinctive harmonic voice, particularly in the later pieces such as those from Träume am Kamin. Reger’s own transcription of the ‘Valse d’amour’ from the Balletsuite, Op 130, is delightful and here receives what is claimed to be its world-premiere recording. Palombi is a persuasive advocate – his playing shows genuine affection for the music. The recording is a shade harsh in climaxes, but this is a most engaging album of some fascinating and attractive rarities (Dynamic CDS8037).

Classical concertos and more

Johann Nikolaus Forkel (1749-1818) – best remembered for his pioneering biography of JS Bach – was also a composer, and Tobias Koch has recorded four of his concertos using a modern copy of a Walter fortepiano, accompanied by the Kölner Akademie directed by Michael Alexander Willens. The first concerto here is in G major, composed in 1783. Unusually, the first movement opens with a slow introduction but otherwise the work follows the customary three-movement pattern. As for the music itself, it is not only well crafted but often very attractive, whether in the G major Concerto, in the delicately scored opening of the Concerto in B flat or in the grander gestures of the C major Concerto from 1796, which includes parts for trumpets and drums. The informative notes tell us that Forkel wrote at least 22 keyboard concertos, of which 12 survive in manuscript. The four pieces recorded here are splendid discoveries and anyone intrigued by unfamiliar corners of the Classical concerto should explore this set, stylishly performed by all concerned and well recorded. Warmly recommended (CPO555 563-2).

We are on much more familiar ground with Dejan Lazic´ and the Bergen Philharmonic under Jan Willem de Vriend in two Mozart concertos – K271 in E flat major and K467 in C major – and the D major Rondo, K382. But this is no ordinary Mozart release. The alert opening of K467, with minimal string vibrato and crisp woodwind, is a promising sign of things to come and Lazic´proves a stylish soloist, with delicious ornamentation and imaginative Eingänge as well the most exquisitely projected passagework. Nothing is exaggerated or overstated, but there’s a strong sense of musical purpose throughout and a wonderful sense of spontaneity in the playing – from the orchestra as well as the soloist. K467 comes first and is a performance of real quality from start to finish – my only quibble would be whether Lazic´’s own (occasionally anachronistic) first-movement cadenza perhaps outstays its welcome. The flowing performance of the Andante digs further into the music’s expressive depths than many rival accounts and Lazic´’s quietly singing tone here is extremely beautiful. The finale is joyous (and Lazic´’s first Eingang here indicates the delights that are to come). The Jeunehomme Concerto, K271, is nearly as good – there are just a couple of places where rhythms feel a little snatched in the finale. The D major Rondo comes as a very attractive bonus. This is a rewarding set with one the most enjoyable and imaginative recordings of K467 that I’ve heard for a while. With beautiful recorded sound, this is a distinguished release (Channel Classics CC72946).

Robert Markham has recorded an enterprising album of music by Franz Xaver Mozart (1791-1844), who was born just four months before the death of his father. By the time Mozart junior was 10 years old, his mother was billing him as ‘Wolfgang Amadeus’ and arranging lessons with Salieri and Hummel. He started to compose at this time, and gave his first public performance in 1805, probably as the soloist in his father’s C major Concerto, K503. Franz Xaver’s Sonata in G major was composed a couple of years later, in 1807. This piece, which lasts almost half an hour, is a substantial four-movement work that displays some individuality – the influence of Beethoven may be detectable in the structure but less so in the thematic invention, which is quite distinctive. The slow movement (in B minor) is highly expressive, followed by a gentle Minuet and a charming finale. The other works on this album include the Fantasy on a Russian Song, ‘Tchem tebya ya Ogortshila’, and a set of variations on another Russian theme – both reflecting the time Franz Xaver spent in Eastern Europe. Finally, we have an enchanting set of variations on the Minuet from the first finale of Don Giovanni – an affectionate tribute to father from son that was also included in Franz Xaver’s 1805 debut concert. The performances are very fine indeed, well recorded at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire. An attractive album (Grand Piano GP951).

The 19th century

Music by Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn, played by Olga Pashchenko on an 1836 Graf piano, comes on an album called ‘Guess Who?’ Behind the programme lies the question – probably unanswerable – of whether it was Felix or his sister Fanny who first came up with the idea of composing ‘songs without words’ for piano. They both produced them, though Fanny’s were published as ‘Lieder für Pianoforte’ rather than ‘Lieder ohne Worte’ – but it matters not. Much more important is the quality of the music here: a generous selection of pieces by this outrageously gifted pair of siblings, in poised and attractive period-instrument performances. Pashchenko plays with energy, too: the opening track is Mendelssohn’s Song Without Words, Op 19b No 3 – delivered here with plenty of élan. The pieces by Fanny Mendelssohn/Hensel are less well known, but there are lovely things here (for instance the third of her Lieder für Pianoforte, Op 2, or the delicious ‘Wanderlied’, Op 8 No 4). This is a rewarding recital, very well played on a fine instrument of the Mendelssohns’ time (Alpha ALPHA1119).

Operatic transcriptions by Thalberg and Liszt are performed by Giuseppe Cerullo on a release from Da Vinci Classics. Unfortunately the piano sound, which occasionally distorted on my equipment, does the pianist no favours. Putting that to one side, the Quartet from Bellini’s I puritani – from Thalberg’s L’art du chant appliqué au piano, Op 70, recently recorded complete by Paul Wee (BIS) – reveals Thalberg to be a highly sympathetic arranger, as does his Fantasy based on Verdi’s La traviata, a longer set of variations on themes from Bellini’s Norma (not a patch of Liszt’s own Réminiscences de Norma) and a Fantasy from Thalberg’s Décaméron, Op 57 (which also includes transcriptions of Schubert and Rossini, not recorded here). The only Liszt transcription in this recital is his Fantasy on themes from Weber’s Der Freischütz, but the recital ends with ‘Après une lecture du Dante’ (the Dante Sonata). Cerullo doesn’t quite have the seemingly effortless technical command of Michael Korstick (CPO), and nor does he have the grasp of structure that makes Korstick’s version so engrossing. Still, this release is worth exploring for the lesser-known Thalberg operatic transcriptions (Da Vinci C00974).

JPE Hartmann (1805-1900) was the founding father of musical Romanticism in Denmark, and – with his son-in-law Niels Gade – the leading figure of the so-called Danish Golden Age. Danacord has released a sixth volume of Hartmann’s piano music, played by Thomas Trondhjem, which ranges from early works such as the Two Rondeaux brillants, Op 6 (1826), and attractive miniatures like the Six Pieces in Song Form, Op 37 (1843), to the stirring expansiveness of Hartmann’s 1883 Piano Sonata in A minor, Op 80, first published in 1885 to celebrate the composer’s 80th birthday. The notes inform us that Hartmann spent nine years working on this piece, and the immense care and trouble he took over it certainly shows. There is a symphonic breadth to the outer movements and Hartmann wrote programmatic titles for each movement – probably as a reminder to himself rather than for public consumption, but they provide clues to the ambition of this work: ‘Despondency and Passion’, ‘Rumination’, ‘Diversion’ and ‘Feelings about a Breakthrough’. The harmonic language finds Hartmann at his most imaginative and the musical argument throughout is taut and compelling. This is a fine work that truly merits rediscovery. The smaller pieces are attractive, but it’s the sonata that makes this such an impressive release. Performance and recording do full justice to all the repertoire here. (Danacord DACOCD978).

Recitals

‘All that surrounds us’ is a mixed recital by Antoine Préat ranging from Rameau (the Suite No 2 in G from the Nouvelles suites de pièces, published in 1727) to the first recording of Énigme, a set of three songs by Karol Beffa (born 1973). Alongside these, Préat plays Fauré’s three Romances sans paroles, Op 17, Debussy’s Images (both sets) and Alexander Siloti’s piano solo transcription of Ravel’s Kaddisch. The Beffa songs, in which the singer is Marie Oppert, are split up, coming before the Rameau, Debussy and Ravel pieces. The music is attractively atmospheric, particularly the second song (‘Le piano qui baise une main frêle’, a Verlaine setting). The trend for playing Rameau on the piano isn’t showing any sign of going away even though some will find this music better suited to Rameau’s intended harpsichord. But Préat delivers a neat and tidy account, crisply articulated. The early Fauré pieces are not among his most characteristic works but they are sympathetically played. With Debussy’s Images, Préat is up against decades of formidable competition (not least from classic accounts by Michelangeli and Kocsis, among others). But this is an enjoyable performance on its own terms, and Préat is completely on top of tricky details in ‘Mouvement’ and the technical demands of ‘Poissons d’or’. Siloti’s transcription of Ravel’s Kaddisch makes for a thought-provoking close to an interesting programme (Naïve V8446).

Another recital on Naïve, comprising Preludes by Scriabin (Op 11) and Chopin (Op 28), is called ‘Golden Dreams’ (a title that we are told originates with Liszt – though surely what we want on a front cover is the names of the composers!). The pianist is Fanny Azzuro and I like the clean textures and unfussy approach of her Scriabin Preludes: there’s a clarity in both the sound and her interpretation that is very effective, not least because there’s plenty of drama in the more animated Preludes, too, and subtle flexibility in Azzuro’s phrasing. The same qualities are to be found in her Chopin, where there is no shortage of poetry and the luminous quality of the sound she coaxes from the instrument is very appealing. These two sets of Preludes make an excellent programme, so if the repertoire appeals, this is well worth exploring (Naïve V8449).

A two-piano version of Liszt’s Totentanz certainly makes for an imposing start to ‘Dualities’, a programme of arrangements by André Kasparov, who performs with Oksana Lutsyshyn as the Invencia Piano Duo. But as the Liszt went on, I missed not only the orchestral colours of the original but also the sense of danger that the finest performances bring to the work (think of Byron Janis and Fritz Reiner). This new arrangement is neat and tidy, but feels altogether too cautious. Kasparov’s own Fantasy on Lutheran Chorales is more convincing – an ingeniously assembled meditation on well-known chorale tunes including ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’. Two pieces transcribed from Albéniz’s Iberia – ‘Evocation’ and ‘Triana’ – work well, but I’m not sure that Kasparov’s rationale for making the arrangements is convincing (he claims that the original pieces ‘require extraordinary strength and flexibility from a solo pianist’) given that the performances are slightly dour and unsmiling. Scriabin’s Vers la flamme is more convincing, but Kasparov’s own Cadenza for LvB is a curiosity. The programme ends with a piano-duet arrangement of Ravel’s La valse. The composer himself made a fine arrangement for two pianos, but what Kasparov has aimed for here is to improve on Lucien Garban’s version for one piano four-hands. Unfortunately, the performance is pedestrian and lacks fire: surely the last thing we need is a ‘safe’ performance of La valse (Divine Art DDX21122).

‘Sonata facile’ is the title of an album by the Armenian pianist Lilit Grigoryan comprising a well-chosen selection of ‘easy’ piano sonatas and sonatinas with the aim – as Grigoryan explains in the note – of giving the sonatina ‘some well-deserved recognition’. Of the rarer pieces, I’m not sure if Reynaldo Hahn’s Sonatina in C is worth the effort, but Hermann Goetz’s Sonatina in F, Op 8 No 1, has distinct charms. Both are winningly played. Medtner’s Sonata-Idyll, Op 56, is a delight, particularly its longer second movement. The other works here are more familiar: Beethoven’s Op 78 Sonata, Ravel’s Sonatine and Mozart’s Sonata, K545, the so-called ‘Sonata facile’, which gives the album its title. If the programme appeals, these fluent and well-characterised performances are unlikely to disappoint – and it can be particularly recommended for the Goetz and Medtner (Berlin Classics 0303647BC).

‘Fantasies’ is a programme of Mozart (Fantasia in D minor, K397), Beethoven (Moonlight Sonata), Chopin (F minor Fantasy, Op 49) and Schumann (Faschingsschwank aus Wien) played by Margherita Santi – all fantasies or fantasy pieces of one sort or another. The recital opens with the Mozart. The slow introduction is extremely spacious (resulting in an overall timing of 7'05"), which won’t please everyone, though Santi plays it rather beautifully. But the result is a performance almost two minutes slower than rivals such as Wilhelm Kempff, Alfred Brendel and Jörg Demus (among many others). I heard recently Murray Perahia’s recording of the Moonlight and was struck by how superbly he manages the tempo of the opening slow movement – bringing it in at a notch over five minutes without any sense of hurry. Santi is three minutes slower in this movement alone, which tells its own story: this is going to be too dreamy for many listeners (including your reviewer), though the other movements are more successful. In Chopin’s F minor Fantasy Santi’s speeds are again expansive in the slower passages, but this is one of the most successful items here: she has a real feeling for the poetic trajectory of this piece. I was equally taken with her Schumann: lots of character, a fine sense of the musical lines and a delicate touch where it’s needed. The recorded sound is excellent. If Santi’s Mozart and Beethoven dawdle unduly, her Chopin and Schumann are well worth hearing (Hänssler Classic HC24043).

This feature originally appeared in the SPRING 2025 issue of International Piano