Despite the dedication to him, Haydn found Beethoven's Op. 2 Sonatas by no means entirely satisfactory. If he had heard the virtuoso battering they sometimes get these days, or the pseudo-profundity occasionally foisted on them, he might have been even less sympathetic. But John O'Conor's reflective, small scale playing, with its punctual phrasing, narrow dynamic range and rather formal character, suits the music well, if nothing else as a refreshing corrective to more highly-charged approaches (I wonder if he and Telarc can be persuaded to explore the early non-opus sonatas at some stage?).
As such, there is a high premium on refinement of tone-quality and clarity of texture, in which respects the results are broadly satisfying. The recording quality is warm, and the instrument sounds well, in particular its matt-finish treble. All the same, it is possible to imagine clearer articulation in the turning figures of the F minor first movement, more ripply scales in the finale of the A major, and more precisely weighted phrase-endings in the slow movement of the C major (in general the C major is the least successful of the three). Occasionally the instrument seems too bulky for the music, and in compensating for this O'Conor's fingerwork becomes a little too feathery. When the playing sets such store by its fastidiousness and consciously eschews over-riding dramatic projection, such small deficiencies stand out. If the interpretation is, quite plausibly, at drawing-room scale, perhaps a smaller instrument than a Steinway D would have been a better vehicle for it. There are also some quiet passages, as in the Largo appassionato of the A major Sonata, where close-miking has caught too much damper-swish.
Still, I warm to O'Conor's unruffled, gently respectful view of these sonatas, and especially to his refusal to shove it down my throat. If he has a tendency to under-punctuate the musical flow, that is arguably no worse than the opposite fault; for many I am sure it will be a positive bonus.'