Anton Diabelli, the pianist, composer, and publisher from near Salzburg, brought out Beethoven’s Op 120 in 1823 and the following year included it as the first of a two-volume set, Vaterländisher Künstlerverein (‘Patriotic Artists Association’), with the second volume devoted to variations by 50 other composers. The simple waltz that Diabelli supplied for the project, intended to benefit widows and orphans of the Napoleonic Wars, has inspired appreciation from writers like Bülow, Tovey and Maynard Solomon, and scorn from others, such as William Kinderman. Interpreters seem to fall into similar camps. Some, Artur Schnabel for instance, present the waltz as integral to a magnificent artwork, interpreting it as a charming prologue. Others, such as Rudolf Buchbinder, perhaps motivated to highlight the significance of Beethoven’s variations above its tawdry source, treat it as beneath contempt, the sooner out of the way, the better.

Throughout his long career, Rudolf Buchbinder, who is now 73, has been identified with the music of Beethoven and Mozart. His book, Mein Beethoven: Leben mit dem Meister (‘My Beethoven: Life with the Master’) appeared in 2014. Warner Classics is reissuing his complete Beethoven piano music, recorded between 1973 and 1981, as well as an individual reissue of his Diabelli Variations (10/73), including the other 50 variations commissioned by Diabelli. Nearly simultaneously, his debut on the DG label, ‘The Diabelli Project’, includes a new recording of Beethoven’s Op 120 and a smattering of the other composers who responded to Diabelli, along with 11 variations from contemporary composers.

Unfortunately, Buchbinder’s brusque treatment of the theme doesn’t end there. Minimal contrasts between piano and forte signal the general paucity of contrast throughout the performance. Slavish adherence to an unyielding beat, evident as early as Var 2, adds a layer of stiffness, mitigating expressivity. Arriving at Vars 6 and 7, one begins to yearn for some small variety of touch or dynamic, some vague indication that might suggest differentiation of character. Vars 11 and 12 do offer a spell of quiet legato but their non-committal blandness soon strikes as aimlessly pedestrian. The insensate notey-ness of the two adjacent semiquaver variations, No 16 and 17, threatens to become mind-numbing. Failure to distinguish between piano and pianissimo reduces the ‘Notte e giorno faticar’ variation, No 22, to a mechanical clock. It’s pointless to attempt characterisation of the remaining 11 variations, which make their variously leaden, humourless and constrained progress towards the concluding Tempo di minuetto without much sense of purpose and devoid of joy.

The individual variations, specially commissioned from contemporary composers and played here en suite, share an aroma of freshness due to their unfamiliarity. They also elicit from Buchbinder a richer and more varied palette than he uses in Beethoven. Lera Auerbach’s contribution, Diabellical Waltz, is the longest and, perhaps not surprisingly, the ghost of the symphonic Prokofiev seems to lurk in the background. Toshio Hosokawa constructs his Verlust using pianistic gestures that might have been familiar to Beethoven. Characteristically, Max Richter is able to create a compelling mood with the barest of means. Rodion Shchedrin’s variation is the wittiest of the lot and one of the more pianistically imaginative.