Emmanuel Despax’s latest album on Signum Classics features man-sized portions of middle-period Liszt: on disc 1, ‘Après une lecture du Dante’ (more widely known as the Dante Sonata, from the second book of Années de pèlerinage), and the ‘Bénédiction de Dieu dans la solitude’ and ‘Funérailles’ from the Harmonies poétiques et religieuses; and on disc 2, the B minor Sonata and a slightly incongruous mignardise of late Liszt, Nuages gris.

Despax’s approach to the B minor Sonata is impressive – even grandiose – creating a highly personal sound world with tremendous scale and power yet with finesse and subtlety. While there is much to admire in such finished pianism and refinement, the thrusting Wagnerian narrative and musical architecture that Despax is implying loses some of its cohesion and focus. Liszt’s Sonata first appeared on record 95 years ago – it was virtually unknown to the public until Cortot’s pioneering 1929 recording – and in recognition of Despax’s stated reverence for tradition, I compared the versions by these two French pianists made almost a century apart. Returning to Cortot’s Liszt Sonata, what strikes me – aside from sonic considerations – are the sheer logic and drive of Cortot’s playing and his understanding of the structure. Cortot takes a full nine minutes less than Despax. He maintains the narrative impetus throughout, never allowing individual details to distract from the overall structure, while Despax takes time to enjoy the various episodic details at the expense of the bigger picture. You might think there is nothing wrong with this approach, of course – it’s a matter of taste. But the tradition that Despax strives to honour clearly had a different musical imperative. Incidentally, Horowitz’s fabled 1932 recording of Liszt’s Sonata is only 39 seconds longer than Cortot’s.

To some extent, Despax’s Dante Sonata has similar issues, but all is forgiven in this case for the foreboding mood he creates in the opening octaves, the exquisite beauty of his pianism in the Andante sections and his unforced virtuosity in the coda. I was less impressed with the ‘Bénédiction de Dieu’, surely one of the most beautiful of Liszt’s creations, where Despax is slightly uneven with the phrasing of the left-hand tenor melody, at a slowish tempo that doesn’t help maintain the musical flow, while the sensuous religious ecstasy is rather underplayed. Despax is much more convincing in the dark, gloomy depths of ‘Funérailles’, which is one of the highlights of this set.

All told, although I have some personal reservations, there is a great deal to admire here and no doubting Despax’s sincerity and musical integrity. Excellent piano sound.

This article originally appeared in the Autumn 2024 issue of International Piano. Never miss an issue – subscribe today