Here‚ on three (separately available) CDs‚ are Solomon’s legendary 1952­56 recordings of the Beethoven Piano Concertos and two Mozart Piano Sonatas‚ a felicitous coupling given his way of narrowing the gap between their supposed Dionysian and Apollonian genius. Time and again Beethoven’s exuberant‚ unpredictable nature (the poet of our inner and variable weather) is qualified by playing of a supreme poise and equanimity that omits so little of his essential character. It is also one of Solomon’s cardinal qualities that he makes it impertinent‚ if irresistible‚ to single out this or that detail‚ offering instead a seamless argument as supple and natural as it is understated. How typical is his treatment of Beethoven’s many sf markings‚ hardly a question of rough places made plain but a tempering‚ civilised view of Beethoven’s writing‚ his boisterousness seen‚ as it were‚ from a distance. Like Schnabel (though so unlike him in many other ways)‚ Solomon makes the slow movements the nodal and expressive centres of each Concerto‚ and here his ability to sustain an Adagio or Largo is without equal (admirers will recall his unforgettable way with‚ say‚ the first movement of the Op 27 No 2 Sonata or the Largo from the Hammerklavier). This is notably true of the first two Concertos‚ where such writing becomes a timeless Elysium‚ music to soothe the savage breast rather than awake more immediate emotions. In the outer movements his superfine technique and musicianship make light of every difficulty‚ and at 6'55" in the Second Concerto‚ after an impatient if very Beethovenian entry‚ he recreates a truly magical sense of stillness and repose. Elsewhere Menges gives us an unusually subdued Allegro con brio tutti in the Third Concerto‚ as if telling us that earlier gaiety and abandon is replaced with darker‚ weightier matters; very much what EM Forster called ‘Beethoven’s C minor of life’. Again‚ the Largo is impeccably controlled (try Solomon’s entry at 2'51"‚ a sweetly singing prophecy of Romantic things to come) and so‚ too‚ is the central Andante con moto from the Fourth Concerto. In the first movement I missed something of the rippling vitality that underlines such lyricism‚ and Solomon’s momentary lack of control at 9'37" is‚ perhaps‚ an indication of problems caused by Cluytens’ less than vital or stimulating partnership. And yet the finale could hardly be more vivace‚ with all the clarity and grace for which Solomon was celebrated. In the Emperor Concerto Solomon somehow bridges the gap between the Fourth and Fifth Concertos. His immaculate ease and buoyancy in the double­note descent just before the first movement’s conclusion‚ his limpid and serene traversal of the central Adagio are pure Solomon‚ and his finale is among the least opaque on record. Surprises include the shorter cadenza in the First Concerto‚ Clara Schumann’s cadenza in the Third (enterprising if less distinguished than Beethoven’s own magnificent offering) and a few teasing elaborations in the two cadenzas from the Fourth. Of the conductors‚ Menges is the finer partner‚ though neither fully matches or complements his soloist’s calibre. The recordings come up well (though the sound in the Fifth needs some opening out; it lacks ring and brilliance)‚ and the Mozart sonatas are a delectable bonus. Listening to Solomon’s peerless pianism and musicianship – the one inseparable from the other – in K576‚ the critic discards pen and paper and listens in awe‚ wonder and affection.