The harpsichord has all but replaced the concert grand in baroque keyboard music. But resistance to the fortepiano is still strong; and to some extent I can sympathize. That clattery tone, the lack of sustaining power in high registers – it just doesn’t sing like a modern piano.
So would Schubert have preferred our instruments if he’d heard them? There were one or two places in this set where I felt he might: for example the high octave legato writing after 3'03'' in the first movement of D960 (bar 69 onwards). But there were many more places where the sound of the 1825 Johann Fritz piano, and especially Andreas Staier’s handling of it, were simply revelatory. An excellent example comes right at the beginning of that movement: after the legato opening phrase comes the famous low, quiet trill; Staier uses one of the fortepiano’s moderator pedals, which lowers a strip of felt on to the strings. The trill seems to sound from another dimension – distant, ominous. Then there’s the una corda pedal, which shifts the hammers so that they strike only one string each; it adds a silvery, ethereal quality to pianissimo echo phrases – a voice from another kind of remote world. Staier’s use of these tools never struck me as excessive or misplaced, and often it’s hard to believe that Schubert wouldn’t have made similar use of them.
It isn’t only in the special effects department that the fortepiano scores. In the middle of the slow movement of D959 there’s a remarkable, violent cadenza-like passage – a kind of composed nervous breakdown. This is rarely effective on modern concert pianos: one wants to use the full power of the instrument, and yet it seems somehow too forceful. On the fortepiano you can strain and pound for all you’re worth, and yet the scale of the sound feels absolutely right. Listening to this music, or the stormy opening of D958, on a contemporary piano after hearing Staier is like hearing the Unfinished Symphony re-scored for Mahlerian orchestra – eight horns instead of just two, swirling harps and a full battery of percussion. The later recitative-like contrast of the ffz chords and short, pleading piano phrases at the climax of the second movement of D959 (track 6, 4'16''ff) works wonderfully here; I don’t think I’ve ever been entirely convinced by it before. Similarly, Staier can play the fzp and ffzp accents in the trio section of D960’s Scherzo with due emphasis without destroying the music’s prevailing lightweight character.
But it is Staier’s handling of the instrument, not the instrument itself, that makes these recordings so exceptional. In matters of tempo, phrasing and so on, his approach is thoroughly modern; in fact his performances would probably translate very effectively to a modern piano without any – or much – sense of incongruity. Perhaps the dynamic rise and fall in the opening theme of D960’s slow movement is a touch broader than one would expect, and yet Schubert does seem to call for extremes, even here. The more agitated middle section, and the prevailingly quiet recapitulation, are beautifully managed.
As a final judgement, I’d say that this is the most impressive fortepiano recording I’ve heard. And that goes for the sound quality too. At first I wondered if the microphone wasn’t a little close to the instrument, but with time and repeated hearings I came to value this intimate, full tone. A strong recommendation for anyone who isn’t terminally prejudiced.'