Of Anton Rubinstein's five piano concertos only No. 4 has achieved any degree of popularity flickering in and out of the repertoire of several great pianists (Rachmaninov, Hofmann and Cherkassky among others). Its chief saving grace is a frolicsome if over-long finale which shows that Rubinstein was, after all, capable of wit and style on occasion. But the slow movement's passing resemblance to the Andante of Tchaikovsky's Second Piano Concerto cruelly demonstrates the difference between mediocrity and lyrical genius. Although it would be surprising if all the concertos failed to show some attractive features, the disparity between Rubinstein's greatness as a pianist and his middle-of-the-road standing as a composer remains one of music's mysteries.
Clearly, then, the concertos need a special energy and advocacy—a touch of inspiration—if they are to survive, and I'm not convinced that either Alexander Paley (a Russian pianist resident in America) or Matti Raekallio provide satisfactory answers. Raekallio's fashionably impersonal expertise makes light of every difficulty (and Rubinstein's writing is pianistically awkward even when it is ineffective) but rarely extends far beyond mere proficiency. After a while a chill settles on pages that cry out for greater warmth and engagement. Such parsimony is even more apparent in the Moszkowski, where in music of a far stronger profile and charm Raekallio's playing remains, routine. The notes are all there, but too little else and you will hear a more stylish, much better recorded version from Piers Lane on his Hyperion release (part of their admirable Romantic Piano Concerto series).
Still, such energy is a far cry from Paley's half-hearted way with Rubinstein's Second and Fourth Concertos. Here the accompaniments are dutiful rather than vital (I was reminded of a witty description of the Fourth's swelling introduction as ''promising great things, but all that emerges is a rather large mouse'') and, throughout, Paley is unable to assert his authority and rescue music which stands so uneasily on the edge of the virtuoso tradition.
Joseph Banowetz, who has recorded all five works for Marco Polo, makes a far more genuine case for them. From him you forget how inhibited Rubinstein was by so many outside influences. It is also wonderful news that the ever-youthful 83-year-old Shura Cherkassky has just recorded the Fourth Concerto for Decca, partnered by Ashkenazy.'