The Spanish pianist, Santiago Rodriguez (a new name to me) was ''propelled into the international spotlight'', so we're told, after winning the 1981 Van Cliburn Competition. So not surprisingly his fingers are ear-catching. As a musician, however, he remains young—not least in presuming to know better than Brahms about how best to present the two books of the Paganini Variations when played in sequence. Space (or rather, lack of it) precludes precise details. But he apparently considers the ending of the first book more conclusive than that of the second, and accordingly puts it last after a few earlier omissions and adjustments, including the insertion of an interlude (presumably his own?) to link the two sets.
Not content with that, he also reverses the order of the last two waltzes of Op. 39 so as to end with the popular No. 15 instead of the valedictory No. 16 of the definitive version, though the jolly tempo he adopts for this last piece (as for several others he seems to play with rather than to play) would make it hard for a newcomer to this music to guess that Brahms was trying to say goodbye. As for the Bach Chaconne in Brahms's arrangement for the left hand, that ideally needs firmer, classical contours. In sum, this young Spaniard has a remarkable technique (I've never heard No. 11 of the second Paganini book done with greater sleight of hand) and an exuberantly spirited imagination. But on grounds of style I can't yet regard him as a serious Brahms contender.
The three works on Katchen's more generously filled disc were originally recorded between 1962-5, the last, the Paganini Variations, four years before he died. It was this that I enjoyed most for its spontaneously fanciful, devil-may-care virtuosity such as I'm sure would have delighted the composer of the theme himself. Stormy strength, glinting delicacy, lyrical charm... all are there. As for the more intellectually conceived Handel set, these are never allowed to sound academic. I even wondered if some needed slightly sterner handling, without quite so much rhythmic yielding in espressivo contexts. But he finds a wealth of interesting detail in inner and under parts, and builds up to a bold climax from which to launch his uncommonly exuberant fugue.
Finally, the Ballades. In ''Edward'' I thought his opening tempo too slow and the middle section disproportionately fast (and also too loud too soon). And in No. 4 in B he is surely not nearly secretive enough in the second theme marked con intimissimo sentimento. Bishop-Kovacevich (Philips) is much more subtle in both these pieces. But there's much to enjoy from Katchen in No. 2 in D, and still more in No. 3 in B minor, where his colour contrasts, darting rhythms and piquant accentuation (not least those menacing repeated F sharps just before the reprise) really transport you into sprite-haunted, moonlit forests. Though perhaps not quite so natural as the Philips sound, this Decca CD is more to my liking (because not so forward and plummy) than DG's reproduction of Michelangeli, who with his deliberate tempos and often rather heavily underlined point-making, I find something of a mixed-blessing.'