Lilya Zilberstein made her DG recording debut with a disc of Rachmaninov and Shostakovich (12/90) of which DJF was most enthusiastic, and doubtless we shall hear more of this Moscow-born pianist, now in her mid-twenties. She brings a fine technique to the Paganini Variations, but there is more than that to this account, in which fine phrasing and textures often turn athleticism into poetry. DG's recording in a somewhat reverberant Hamburg location sounds faithful but is so close and immediate (e.g. in the thunderous octave Var. 7 in Book 1), that I wondered at first whether the result was almost too much of a good thing. But it did not take long to convince me that it is well judged in its own terms (although Var. 10 in the same book hardly starts sotto voce) and that to diminish its sonority might be to betray Zilberstein's tonal range, which is noteworthy, as witness her faithfulness to the dynamic texturing of the 'musical box' variation soon afterwards. Compared to those of the agile Julius Katchen (Decca) and Francois-Rene Duchable, her tempos are generally spacious: this is mostly to the benefit of the music and her technique is always placed at its service. Nevertheless, occasionally I miss the Mephistophelian glitter that Katchen provides, along with sensitivity, and he is marginally cleaner, too, in the difficult Var. 1 of Book 2. However, Zilberstein is better than he at bringing a contemplative quality to the quieter variations and this account of the work is superior to that of her compatriot Elisabeth Leonskaja (on a two-disc Teldec/Warner Classics set with the three sonatas—reviewed above), who lacks light and shade. Katchen comes at present only on a six-disc Brahms set, though it is at mid-price.
Unfortunately, in the smaller pieces Zilberstein is earnest but disappointingly unatmospheric. At 2'11'' in the second piece of Op. 117, four left-hand notes differ from the printed ones, and the third piece of the set, marked Andante con moto, simply plods along in its outer sections and takes 1'23'' longer than when played by Francois-Rene Duchable. The close recording, together with some heavy pedalling, blurs textures in the first piece of the Op. 118 set and even more so in the G minor Ballade, and we need more intimacy, too, in the tender A major Intermezzo and the F major Romance. One also hears some faint extraneous sounds, for example almost throughout the First Intermezzo of Op. 117 and again in the wonderful last piece of the Op. 118 set.
I would gladly recommend Zilberstein in the Paganini Variations, but she is unlucky in that her recording appears at the same time as that of Francois-Rene Duchable. Compared to him, she sounds effortful, while even the distinguished Katchen can seem too self-consciously the virtuoso projecting the music to an audience in a large hall. Duchable plays, rightly, as if in a studio or large room, and it so happens that he is exceptionally well recorded, every bit as vividly as Zilberstein but more cleanly. In fact, this is an aristocratic performance through and through, and another plus is that he keeps the momentum going very naturally from one variation to the next, so that the work sounds less sectional than with Zilberstein. Good though she is, I would not hesitate for a moment in preferring this Duchable version for its blend of dazzling deftness, poise and poetry. Just one tiny point, though: although a repeat is not indicated in the score, I wish he had repeated the first three bars of Var. 6 in Book 2, as most pianists do, in the interests of symmetry.
The other pieces are beautifully done, too. The Op. 117 Intermezzos have a stylish quiet persuasiveness, and the Two Rhapsodies are thrilling. Duchable also gives us an attractive Brahms rarity in the shape of the Theme and Variations in D minor, which is a transcription of the famous slow movement from his String Sextet, Op. 18. In fact, the Duchable is an issue to welcome, and I shall not be surprised if it is on my ''Critics' Choice'' list for the current year.'