Beethoven’s piano trios are occasionally spoken of as a ‘cycle’. They’re hardly that; there are three very early works (the Op. 1 set), three fully mature ones (Op. 7 Nos. 1 and 2 and Op. 97) and an assortment of variations and arrangements – mostly featherweight stuff, though one of the variation sets, Op. 121a (on Wenzel’s tune I am the tailor Kakadu), is a glorious example of Beethovenian comic self-deflation. It dons the tragic mask, then drops it delicately but firmly. The arrangements are interesting too – reminders of an age when, if you wanted to get to know a piece of music, you had to roll up your sleeves and play it (no leisurely sauntering round record shops).
Central here are the performances of the six big piano trios by the Kempff-Szeryng-Fournier Trio, recorded in 1969-70 and sounding warm and clear in these transfers. As interpretations they are consistently remarkably natural, whether searching the depths in slow movements or delighting in the wit of Beethoven’s scherzos. There’s no indication that they regard the Op. 1 set as in any way lesser works – an adjunct to the ‘real’ business of Opp. 70 and 97. The Adagio cantabile of Op. 1 No. 1 is surprisingly touching, right through to the six simple pp chords which end it; the humour of the finale is delightfully fresh and subtle – never overstated.
As for the mature works, it’s hard to think of a better all-round recommendation. Other groups may have probed the darkness of Op. 70 No. 1’s ‘ghostly’ slow movement more atmospherically, but few have communicated the shape and slow motion of this movement so tellingly. The Ghost emerges as a complete experience, not as a great Largo framed by two entertaining but relatively inconsequential fast movements. The youthful Trio Zingara (Collins Classics) have made more of the light-dark contrasts in the Scherzo of the Archduke, but it is Kempff, Szeryng and Fournier who show most effectively how this leads into the great Andante cantabile – and again, what a very ‘natural’ choice of tempo. I particularly enjoyed their performance of Op. 70 No. 2, the Cinderella of the piano trios – perhaps because it is so rarely done, and even more rarely done so well. On paper the opening looks simple to the point of blandness; here the simplicity is movingly eloquent and full of promise – yes, one feels, a great work can grow from this.
I’m not quite so sure about the Kakadu Variations; the pure comedy of the later stages doesn’t quite seem home territory for Kempff, Szeryng and Fournier. But it’s still beautifully played – so beautifully that one could almost believe in the parody seriousness of the long introduction. But would the Beaux Arts Trio have been any more convincing? Probably not. Their refined seriousness seems still less appropriate in the Scherzo and finale of the Septet arrangement (one does miss the sound of the horn in the Scherzo). On the other hand Besch, Brandis and Boettcher make a strong case for the trio arrangement of the Second Symphony – even when piano and violin are reduced to long stretches of tremolando scrubbing and wobbling. Five CDs means a big financial outlay for the sake of three great and three very attractive piano trios; but as a whole this set is rarely less than interesting, and at its best, profoundly rewarding.'