Having made considerable inroads into Prokofiev's orchestral music Chandos now turn their attention to the complete music for solo piano and, if the first two volumes are anything to go by, it promises to be a very rewarding cycle. Chandos have made a wise choice in signing the Russian-born pianist Boris Berman, as he proves to be a very fine and persuasive advocate for Prokofiev's keyboard output. (His concerto disc was warmly welcomed last October.) Nowhere is this more evident than in his performance of the Fifth Sonata, where his keen ear for timbre and texture, his crisp, articulate fingerwork and his natural response to a diversity of moods make for compelling listening. By comparison McLachlan (Olympia/Target) seems underpowered at times, particularly in the final movement, and Osorio (ASV), though bringing out the abrasiveness of Prokofiev's writing, is far less responsive to the more lyrical aspects.
Berman's performance of the orchestral transcriptions are most impressive too: the ten pieces from Romeo and Juliet are full of wit, atmosphere and poetic insight, and the spirit of the dance is always present; witness for instance the subtle inflexions, in turns both skittish and demure in ''Juliet as a young girl'', the athletic power of ''Mercutio'' or the rhythmic drive of the ''Folk Dance''. A strong awareness for orchestral sonority is also present both here and in his stylish performances of the ''Scherzo'' and ''March'' from The Love for Three Oranges.
Volume Two offers a beautifully balanced programme demonstrating the diversity of Prokofiev's creative approach to the piano, from the savage malevolence of Sarcasms, played here with tremendous power and ferocity, to the more yielding intimacy of The tales of an old grandmother. The Visions fugitives (literally, ''things flying past'') combine emotional elements from both these works, resulting in 20 epigramatic miniatures of remarkable diversity and mood. Once again it is Berman's ability to respond to Prokofiev's sudden mood changes that I find most impressive. His overall approach has greater sardonic flavour than Beroff (EMI) and the contrast between the introspective, poetic numbers and those of a more grotesque and aggressive nature seem to me more sharply drawn.
Berman's account of the Seventh Sonata demonstrates considerably greater maturity than McLachlan's rather colourless, undramatic reading, though in truth even Berman falls some way short of Pollini's classic, unassailable account for DG. The opening pages have all the fire and energy to ignite this volatile work, but the poetry and mystery of the first movement, and the intensity of the Andante are less successfully brought out compared to Pollini. And then we come to the finale, a veritable baptism by fire, from which only Pollini emerges unscorched. Here McLachlan's rather earthbound reading is woefully inadequate in terms of dynamic shading, and Berman, though generating far more adrenalin and excitement also has a rather limited dynamic range. However, despite my reservations this would certainly be high on my list of recommendations after Pollini.
The Maltings, Snape, provides the ambience for a beautifully recorded piano sound. Previous recordings from this venue have sometimes proved over resonant for my tastes, but on this occasion Tim Oldham and Trygg Tryggvason's warm, slightly resonant piano sound seems just right. One final point: Chandos give two incorrect timings which are duplicated both on the case and in the inner sleeve: the final movement of the Sonata should read 3'43'' and not 4'43'', and for the final band of the Visions fugitives read 0'28'' not 2'28''.'