To get some idea of Perahia's approach to this music imagine a tree just opening from bud in the radiance of spring. Brendel (Philips), in comparison, evokes the fuller shape and deeper hues of those same leaves in high summer. It is the sound world of these two artists, each so enjoyable in his own way, that is so different, with Perahia's limpid delicacy constantly reminding us of his dedication to Mozart while Brendel's fuller bodied, more opulently pedalled sonority leaves no doubt of his attunement to Beethoven. This is much emphasized by the recording engineers. The Philips sound leads you to imagine closer microphones in a more resonant studio.
For anyone with only a few minutes in which to make comparisons, I would suggest starting with the B flat major theme and variations from the second set (D935 No. 3), in which Perahia's faster, dancing lilt in the theme itself, followed by variations at once lighter, less pedalled and less consciously charged with expression, sums it up. The F minor Impromptu (D935 No. 4) is just as revealing. Whereas Perahia (here slightly the slower of the two) reminds us of the scherzando qualifying its allegro, Brendel far more often evokes Schumann's description of the piece as a kind of Schubertian rage over a lost penny. In the earlier D899 set, the second Impromptu in E flat shows a Perahia much more concerned than Brendel to keep the quaver triplets as light as air—so as to heighten the contrast brought by the more vigorous second theme in B minor. In the A flat Impromptu (D899 No. 4) Perahia again articulates the opening semiquavers with needlepoint clarity (as opposed to Brendel's slightly more leisurely washes of sound) before singing out the C sharp minor 'trio' more broadly. As I've already said, though as different as spring and summer, both performances are equally delightful and desirable. I can only suggest that you buy both.'