Like the Ashkenazy/Perlman/Harrell trio in their (now regrettably deleted) excellent EMI set (3/87), the Czech Trio fit Beethoven's complete works for piano trio on to four discs by excluding the trio arrangements of the Op. 20 Septet and Second Symphony rescued by the Beaux Arts Trio in their five-disc Philips set. But whereas that sells at medium price, this new-to-Britain Czech release from Le Chant du Monde is full price. So take notice at once that only its CD remastering is new. The original recordings were made in France way back in 1964, and certainly betray their age in sound-quality. That's a pity, for the Czechs themselves are musicians of style and spirit.
Comparison with the Beaux Arts in the three works of Op. 1 at once reveal the Czechs' liking for more swiftly-flowing slow movements. While admirable in the E flat and C minor works, they surely don't allow time for the exquisitely romantic Largo con espressione of Op. 1 No. 2 to sing its full tale of love and longing. In faster movements the Beaux Arts are often more atingle besides—unlike the Czechs—literally making more of each work by observing all repeats. In the B flat Trio, Op. 11 I was glad to find the Czechs opting for the composer's original clarinet rather than the optional violin chosen by the Beaux Arts. Helped by Vladimir Riha's reedy, unhoneyed tone, this performance comes over with irresistible rustic pungency and vigour as if in the open air rather than the Beaux Arts' drawing-room.
While happy enough to accept the Czechs' omission of repeats in these earlier works, surely they were unwise to omit that of the exceptionally concise and concentrated exposition of the first movement of the Ghost, Op. 70 No. 1. But they convey all its urgency, and they find the intensity and dynamic range for the central Largo assai without resorting to the excessively slow tempo adopted by the Beaux Arts. In both these two more subtly-scored middle-period Op. 70 trios, and especially in the eminently civilized exchanges of the second, I was much impressed by their give and take. Always your ear is exactly where it should be, and not least because of the discretion in balance shown by their very agile pianist. As for the Archduke, though I personally prefer a more tautly sustained sense of direction in the opening Allegro moderato, this performance as a whole reveals them at their best, with a truly rapt and spacious slow movement as prime proof of their vision.
In the Variations and smaller pieces I questioned their fast tempo for little Maximiliane Brentano's Allegretto (WoO39), and even for the minuet-like Scherzo of the early E flat Trio experiment (WoO38), while for the most part enjoying their wholly natural, unselfconscious approach to these works too. But as I hinted at the start, sound per se cannot be ignored. The luckiest of the three artists is Sacha Vectomov, whose warmly responsive cello playing is a constant delight. The unluckiest is the violinist, Alexandre Plocek, too often pinched and bloomless in tone, while Joseph Palenicek's piano, acceptable enough in softer contexts, emerges brittle above a certain dynamic level. In sum, a reissue that would have had more of my blessing if offered at bargain price.'