Helene Grimaud is a young pianist of considerable warmth and artistry, and here gives us Brahms’s final piano compositions. Composed in a climate of sorrow and death (most notably of his mother and of Clara Schumann), they contain some of the most reflective and intensely private music in the repertoire, very different from the rhetoric and exuberant virtuosity of the sonatas. As a whole it is an extraordinarily rich body of work and deserves a place in any collection.
Throughout, Grimaud’s playing is sensitive, thoughtful and compelling. Her phrasing breathes with a natural fluency and her tone is always attractive (indeed, the recording captures the instrument superbly, re-creating a beautifully natural piano sound). Both in the pieces of searching tenderness and in the more forthright numbers these performances always convey a powerful interpretative conviction that commands enormous respect.
As fine as Grimaud’s playing is, however, what I occasionally missed was a greater sense of the music’s intimacy. It is as if she wishes to intensify the music by projecting it as though in a large hall, whereas in these works a more gentle and contemplative approach can often be more powerful. This is most noticeable in the three Intermezzos of Op. 117, where Grimaud can’t quite match the poignancy of Julius Katchen in his wonderful six-disc set. Most successful are the more vigorous pieces, such as the Capriccios of Op. 116 and the final Rhapsodie of Op. 119, and overall Grimaud’s disc offers an interesting alternative to Katchen’s more reflective approach.
In summary, while Grimaud’s recording has much to recommend it, Katchen’s outstanding set is well worth the extra investment.'