The period between the two world wars saw a rich harvest of piano music written by or for virtuosos. Works by Bartók and Prokofiev have long since entered the modern repertoire, but others remain near its periphery. Chief among these is Rudepoêma – the largest single piece for this medium by Heitor Villa-Lobos and one that findsboth his musical idiom at its most provocative and his technical requirements at their most challenging. With its centenary fast approaching, now seems a good time to consider just what this (in)famous work represents.

The genesis of Rudepoêma

It is easily overlooked that two of the most virtuosic piano scores from this time were written for Arthur Rubinstein, remembered by those who heard him in his later years as a master of capricious understatement but who, in his earlier maturity, inspired and premiered both Trois mouvements de Pétrouchka and the present work. Stravinsky readily confessed the technical difficulties of his piece put it beyond his own pianistic skills and this is likely true for Villa-Lobos, not least as Rudepoêma was expressly intended as a musical portrait of its dedicatee.

Its Portuguese title translates (not too inaccurately) as ‘Savage Poem’, and Villa-Lobos went on to explain in a highly explicit dedication that ‘I do not know if I have fully assimilated your soul … but I swear with all my heart that I have the impression in my mind of having recorded your temperament then of mechanically transcribing it onto paper – like a candid camera. Hence, if I have succeeded, you will be the true author of this work’. The 1920s saw a variety of major projects – notably the series of Chôros, of which the Eleventh (also dedicated to Rubinstein) features a concertante piano part hardly less outsize in conception and which doubtless reflects his already having witnessed the Polish-American pianist give the first performance of Rudepoêma at the Salle Gaveau in Paris on 24 October 1927. Its relative infrequency of performance thereafter led the composer to transcribe the piece for orchestra – in which guise it was premiered in Rio de Janeiro on 15 July 1942 but which, despite undoubted verve and immediacy, makes for an altogether less visceral experience: sample it in a performance by the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra under Roberto Duarte (Marco Polo 8 223552).

For all its textural density and rhythmic fluidity, the structure of Rudepoêma is by no means prolix, the whole edifice being founded upon two themes heard at the outset in the left and right hands respectively. As the composer and author Robert Matthew-Walker once pointed out: ‘The overall structure of the piece … is quite straightforward and combines elements of continuous melodic variation with vestigial traces of sonata [form], the whole harmonically adhering to its own rules which are necessarily the opposite of those of traditional functional harmony’. Essentially a development, the tempestuous central phase is followed by a much altered and elaborated reprise which itself subsides into the longest stretch of sustained and inward expression; one, moreover, that makes the eruptive coda feel the more unnerving.

Arthur Rubinstein

Although retaining much of Villa-Lobos’s music in his repertoire, to the extent of including ‘O polichinelo’ (from the first volume of A prole do bebê) in his farewell recital at London’s Wigmore Hall in May 1976, Rubinstein never made a commercial recording of Rudepoêma. Luckily, the broadcast of a 1940 performance at New York’s Museum of Modern Art is on YouTube (see discography). Despite limited sound and a fade-out three-quarters of the way through, thanks to the dictates of radio scheduling, this affords real insight into his innate understanding of the work; how he viewed its evolution and gauged its febrile momentum, with his musicianship still at its height. Whether or not a complete transfer comes to light, it would be worth issuing this account, for its benchmark status and historical significance.

The 1970s and ’80s

Half a century on, Nelson Freire’s Rudepoêma still takes some beating. His later years might have focused increasingly on the standard repertoire but the sheer energy and attack evident here holds attention from the outset. Nor is this visceral expression lacking in formal balance, as witnessed by a clarity of motivic evolution over the explosive central stages or that poised anticipation before the coda is unleashed. The sound feels a little shallow and unyielding but the sheer presence of Freire’s reading comes through with its power and panache unimpeded.

Roberto Szidon assembled a Villa-Lobos collection as his debut recording for EMI Brazil in 1965 but the DG anthology 10 years later finds him at his technical and interpretative peak. Not least a Rudepoêma of formidable dexterity and, during the equivocal later stages, telling emotional candour. In the demonstrative central phase his virtuosity, abetted by vivid though clinical sound typical of DG from this time, feels overbearing but its precision can hardly be denied. Still the first reading by which to familiarise oneself with this uncompromising piece.

A pianist of wide-ranging inclination, Volker Banfield has covered a diverse repertoire and his Rudepoêma is notable for attention to detail and clarity of conception. Comparison with those above underlines the relatively two-dimensional nature of his approach, with the faster episodes – of what, at barely 17 minutes, is the swiftest of any recording – brutal rather than savage and the quieter ones lacking in pathos. Maybe in seeking to align this piece with the European avant-garde, Banfield rather neglects its inherent spontaneity and flights of fancy.

Something of a legend in his native Brazil, Arthur Moreira Lima brings a keen rhetoric and undoubted majesty to his reading of Rudepoêma. Just occasionally a tendency to underline salient detail and rhythmic patterns can get the better of him, but despite this and the rather metallic sound quality, the sense of discovering this music ‘in real time’ is always apparent. Moreover, its status of having moved away from 19th-century virtuoso convention as much as it remains distinct from post-war complexity is reaffirmed in the pulverising final bars.

Alone among these pianists in having recorded the piece twice, Sonia Rubinsky first tackled Rudepoêma along with Debussy and Messiaen; a persuasive and relevant context for what is otherwise a rather underpowered and uninvolving account, whatever its technical adroitness and tonal finesse. It hardly helps when the sound tends to coarsen in dynamics much above forte and becomes congested in more intricate passages (a fair proportion of the whole). Nor does her almost somnolent tempo for the final stages afford unity to the overall conception.

The 1990s

Opening the first in her four-volume survey of Villa-Lobos’s piano music, Rudepoêma finds Débora Halász making a conscious statement of intent. There are few readings more adept in mapping out the work’s formal contours or bringing its expressive extremes into persuasive accord. Although exuding no lack of clarity, the sound lacks the last degree of tonal lustre so the final pages are less overwhelming than they might otherwise have been, yet the combined power and poise of this version make it well worth hearing if not, ultimately, a front runner.

Part of a representative overall recital of this composer, the Rudepoêma of Roberta Rust is eminently appealing and one that points up antecedents in the piano music from an earlier generation (notably Albéniz and Debussy) more readily than most. The sound, not lacking for perspective, is a little too resonant for this pianist’s dynamic sensitivity fully to register. Not that this aspect, nor the pianist’s too often sectional approach, seriously undermines the attractions of an account deserving wider dissemination than seems to have been the case.

At almost 26 minutes, the Rudepoêma by Luiz de Moura Castro is the longest yet recorded and a certain flaccidity of motion undeniably sets in across its course. Partial compensation comes through the wealth of nuance teased from its complex textures, making this a version worth studying alongside the score. Nor is there a lack of impetus over its central span and in the coda, even if what precedes the latter hangs fire to the point of torpidity. One comes away from this reading with renewed appreciation of the musical content but not its essence.

Much more focused as an interpreter, Alfred Heller gives a tensile and often incisive account of Rudepoêma with no lack of drive in demonstrative passages. The sound yields a slightly dullish sheen to the piano tone but neither this nor the lack of truly quiet or inward playing is to the detriment of the recording overall. That it comes at the conclusion of a Villa-Lobos recital otherwise centred on his miniatures further enhances its impact, not least as the pianist fairly charges through the coda at the end of this sometimes unsubtle yet never uneventful reading.

One would expect a work such as Rudepoêma to be eminently suited to a pianist of Marc-André Hamelin’s awesome powers as it proves at the close of his programme otherwise devoted to Villa-Lobos miniatures. Its technical command is everywhere apparent; so too that tendency to control or calculate every aspect that has come to dominate his musical thinking. Recorded with enviable clarity, the absence of spontaneity and imagination means the whole is no more than the sum of its parts – not least in a coda astounding in its accuracy while unyielding in its expression.

The new century

For her second reading, Sonia Rubinsky places Rudepoêma at the close of the sixth volume in what is the most inclusive survey yet of Villa-Lobos’s piano output. Nearly two minutes slower, this is a more considered and probing account which, with its spacious if slightly unfocused sound, imparts scale and even monumentality to the work’s latter stages. A certain diffuseness was likely inevitable, though never such an issue as to deny this a place towards the top of the shortlist. Certainly, the final pages round off the work (and this series) to commanding effect.

A pity that the capable and frequently arresting pianism of Joanna Brzezińska is not heard to better effect in her take on Rudepoêma, which forms the culmination of another Villa-Lobos anthology. If rather soft-grained sound is partly to blame, it at least underlines the poise and delicacy of playing that at times assumes an almost impressionist manner. Elsewhere, this over-constrained quality fatally undersells the music’s visceral impact and hence conspires to leave this account out of the reckoning when it comes to any more general consideration.

A refreshingly different approach from Andreas Woyke, his Rudepoêma among the faster of available versions but with little sense of haste as he pursues his agile and impetuous course across its often treacherous topography. The dexterity and accuracy of his playing are second to none, yet a concomitant emotional aspect manifests itself in the cumulative intensity of the latter stages, where a subtle and affecting poignancy is no less evident. As the coda hurtles by with electrifying intent, there can be little doubt of this being a version to rank with the finest.

Although his Rudepoêma does not quite evince this level of magnetism, Yuval Zorn – whose reading comes as part of an exceptionally well-planned miscellany – is still a dependable and often perceptive advocate. Of especial interest is his touch of irony audible during the central stages, which emerge as more self-contained than usual, though the rather neutral sound may partly account for this and the detached quality of what follows. Not a front runner but a reading worth returning to – not least given the context in which this piece has been placed.

The most recent recordings

Alas, the Rudepoêma of Martha Marchena cannot be given even a cautious recommendation, for which blurred and out-of-focus sound is largely to blame. Listening through this relative murk reveals a forceful and often combative reading with no lack of textural detail or overall impact, albeit a tendency for the piano tone to distort during more heavily chorded passages. Ultimately, such audible virtuosity (both here and in the rest of this Villa- Lobos programme) is undone by a recording that makes her version relevant only in a strictly comparative sense.

The most recent recording of Rudepoêma is far more recommendable. Skilled remixer as well as pianist, Nathan Ben-Yehuda places his account in an enterprising context featuring Haydn and his own ‘Astral mixtapes’. Not that there is anything gimmicky about his conception or its realisation, which unfolds as a convincing overall unity even if more demonstrative passages seem overly reined in. There is an evocative atmosphere in the later stages, however, together with an underlying sense of purpose made manifest with the dextrous virtuosity of the coda.

Conclusions

Although it has come into its own recording-wise over recent decades, Rudepoêma has yet to secure its claims on the standard repertoire in terms either of performers or listeners. That the piece remains difficult to place in the live medium seems less an issue in that of recording, as is witnessed by those numerous collections ‘themed’ according to nationality and conception discussed here. Doubtless future releases will find ever more ingenious or imaginative means of programming music always likely to dominate whatever context in which it is presented.

In terms of Rudepoêma recordings available, Roberto Szidon remains a benchmark by virtue of his clarity and precision – qualities shared with Marc-André Hamelin, who nonetheless tends to micro-manage every facet. Arthur Moreira Lima is eminently worth returning to for his sheer spontaneity, along with the relative circumspection of Roberta Rust or (not unduly) slowburning rhetoric of Sonia Rubinsky’s remake. Among the most recent options, Andreas Woyke sets out distinctive possibilities such as future interpreters could profitably draw upon.

Yet if it comes down to choosing just one recording, it would be that by Nelson Freire. True, the sound rather betrays its 50-year provenance, but his palpable identity with, belief in and love for this music comes over in every bar. Had he re-recorded it in his later years (though the piece would have been ill-suited to his 2012 collection of Brazilian miniatures for Decca) Freire might well have uncovered even greater expressive subtlety and emotional depth, but the sense of ‘Savage Poem’ rendered as a potent and affecting whole has yet to be equalled.

Arthur Rubinstein's 1940 broadcast can be heard on YouTube.