I have not yet heard the DG recording of Argerich and Nelson Freire in the Bartok Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion, much liked by RC last October; nor the version she's made with Alexandre Rabinovitch of Brahms's transcription for two pianos of his F minor Piano Quintet (see above). I mention these in the thought that they may reward investigation more than this Mozart disc has rewarded me. It's a shame: and anyone who remembers how good the G major Variations K501 were when Argerich recorded them, many moons ago, with Stephen Kovacevich (Philips 8/78—nla) in a mixed recital of Mozart, Bartok (the Sonata again) and Debussy (En blanc et noir) is probably going to share my disappointment. The Mozart there was the real thing, richly resonant of other media, vocal and instrumental, as well as the keyboard. By comparison, all four works here are sold short by readings which see them only in keyboard terms and through the sonorities pianists' fingers can most easily produce.
These are polished duettists, though, no doubt of that. Their matching and balancing of colour and tone in textures where Mozart sets one player off against the other is consummate, and their ensemble too. Considered from that vantage point this version of the Sonata for two Pianos, K448 leaves little to be desired, and that goes for the rest as well. There is response to the play of discourse and, in a generalized way, to its character. Put a track on and it may sound pretty good. My complaint about these artists is that the inner life of the music, as opposed to its surface attractiveness, is rarely touched.
An example which can serve as general: the theme of the G major Variations is prettified, with coy approaches to top notes and peaks of phrases, and retreats and fallings-away where the reverse (it seems to me) would be preferable. This is a mannerism of Argerich and Rabinovitch which tends all the time to drive the expression into the realm of charm—and it nearly drove me mad. However, if you see the Variations as charming, not specially important Mozart, you'll maybe not be greatly bothered. Well, try the opening of the Sonata for Two Pianos or the first movement exposition of the great C major Sonata for Piano Duet for something more serious. The same trait is there: a reluctance to sustain the strength of any statement, dynamically or otherwise, for its full term. Dynamics indeed go by the board, and for all the notice the players take of them Mozart might as well not have bothered to mark any. For this aspect of the music, Argerich and Rabinovitch substitute a play of light and shade which treats the surface like a piece of toasted cheese under a grill. No incidental beauties? Yes, of course there are, often borne by a spirit of spontaneity which is good to have, but I'm not minded to pick them out—a dying fall here or a theatrical hush there—when the playing engages so fitfully, as I see it, with the music's real strength. The performance of the C major Sonata, K521 is particularly disappointing, with tempos all too quick, especially in the second and third movements, and a coda to the finale treated unashamedly as a vehicle for spurious effect.
Enough said. This is Mozart to make you swoon, and it is not mine. Which is a pity because the piano sound is very good and interpretations of class of this area of Mozart's chamber music—chamber music for two pianists, that's to say—are still all too rarely come by. Lupu and Perahia in the D major Sonata for Two Pianos remain a safe recommendation. It's the piece which Argerich and Rabinovitch do best, but I've no doubt their gifts are better deployed in a different repertoire.'