Curiously, each of the new recordings sounds like a criticism of the other; yet neither can be recommended as a true representation of the Rachmaninov idiom. In brief, Idil Biret attempts a representation of the grand manner but frequently overdoes the jerky inflections and degenerates into coarse texturing at high dynamic levels. Her Op. 3 Pieces (incorporating Rachmaninov's later elaborations, incidentally) are hindered rather than enhanced by her special pleading. Ian Hobson, by contrast, sounds as though he has deliberately set out to prove that the grand manner is irrelevant. In places he succeeds; he is technically by far the superior player, and he has been more sympathetically recorded. Yet there is a deadening lack of variety in his tone production—his cantabile is disappointing, his fortes growl where they should resound—and the avoidance of rhythmic inflection ultimately registers as dry and puritanical. One longs for an injection of something of Biret's temperament.
It seems almost cruel summarily to dismiss recordings of music which demands so much dedication and skill to master. But the fact remains that neither issue comes within hailing distance of Ashkenazy on Decca (in a rather harshly recorded two-disc package with the Second Sonata) or Shelley on Hyperion. Not that either of these is by any means irreproachable. For my part I would be more than happy with the Shelley discs in my collection; but the field is still wide open for new contenders.'