From the persuasive blend of expressiveness and flow with which Schumann's first theme unfolds, both in the orchestra and the piano, the stage would seem set for a reading of nobility and stylishness. Yet there is a rough edge on the violin tone (too much open E string from the seconds) as the theme is announced; then at bar 87 (track 1, 2'59'') there is a stray F natural in the harmony (a premature oboe entry?) and further on, the woodwind solos do not soar above the piano as they should.
Why the nitpicking—aren't there plenty of fine recordings with little blemishes like these? Well, as I hear it this performance does not quite pick up the undercurrent of Schumann's inspiration, so that the ear tends to fix on detail, admiring much of it, but also wincing at passing infelicities. Why the undercurrent is not there is anyone's guess. It sounds as though the acoustic is to blame, since there is a gruffness to the tone, a strangulated quality which means that all musical initiative falls into a void instead of living on in the air. But that cannot be the case, since with Zimerman and Karajan, and the same orchestra in the same venue (the Philharmonie), DG capture magic from the very beginning. No, it seems that the engineering must be to blame for the sound as we hear it and the performance for its own (minor) shortcomings.
As I have hinted it is the orchestra which gives the most cause for concern. There are further unhappy details—a lack of eagerness from the cellos in the slow movement, badly out-of-tune horns at 4'34'' in the finale—but most of all the accompaniment seems unsure, or perhaps unconvinced, of its role in the performance as a whole. Could it be that Pollini or Abbado were not entirely sure themselves? In fact much of the first movement is very fine indeed once you adapt to the sound (the piano is too far forward, incidentally). But I cannot see the virtue of having the articulation of the opening of the slow movement so poorly matched between piano and strings, and much of the shaping here and in the finale sounds more calculated than spontaneous.
I suppose the plain truth is that the pacing and moods of this concerto are extraordinarily difficult to capture, in particular its emotional vulnerability, a quality which neither Pollini nor Abbado is renowned for. Zimerman finds something close to the ideal, only to be dragged down periodically by Karajan (whose souping up of the middle of the slow movement is the kind of thing which so damaged his reputation). Perahia and Davis on CBS (a Gramophone Award winner) find it too, although there are occasional mannered phrases in the piano and laboured patches in the orchestra. But still unsurpassed for elasticity in the relationship between musical paragraphs, and for moments of inspiration (which are made possible by precisely that elasticity) are Bishop-Kovacevich and Davis with the BBC Symphony Orchestra on Philips; many of the nuances may be scarcely different from Pollini and Abbado's, but they seem felt rather than rehearsed, and this partnership alone captures and sustains the confiding tone of the slow movement.
Heads may nod sagely over the coupling of Schumann and Schoenberg—'lyrically-imbued virtuosity... thematic integration... display subordinated to poetry...'; but I think it would be unwise to expect revelations. Schoenberg's Piano Concerto of 1942 is often referred to as one of his more amiable 12-note works; which is a bit like referring to a python as an amiable variety of snake. Better, I would have thought, to acknowledge that all his mature works are teeming with incident and need to be wrestled with emotionally and intellectually—which is precisely their appeal. The special thing about the Piano Concerto is that it does indeed have amiable qualities—a distinctly singable opening to the first movement and a discinctly danceable opening to the finale—but that these are forcibly drawn into the maelstrom of conflict and anguish.
Schoenberg's beginner's guide to the four inter-linked movements runs: ''Life was so easy: suddenly hatred broke out; a grave situation was created. But life goes on''. Pollini ensures that the opposition between the first two movements is not so cut and dried as that. Right from the beginning there is forward motion in the phrasing. The main theme sounds less Viennese than in any other performance I can remember, and the contrasting idea at bar 86 (track 4, 2'12'') brings little or no change of character. If this is designed to forge the first two movements more intimately together. I'm not sure it really works. For the unease and eventual crisis which overcome the first movement to be convincingly registered, it is important not to reach saturation point too soon, and to give the graciousness of the principal thematic characters their full due. Otherwise the brainstorm of the scherzo and the upheavals of the Adagio lose much of their point.
It has to be said that there is much lucid, fiery and virtuosic playing from all concerned throughout the work, and the slow movement lifts itself with impressive determination from the slough of despond. But the cadenza, brilliantly played as it is, is so dessicated in its recorded quality I found it difficult to concentrate on the music at this point and to feel the motivation which then leads into the finale. If the interpretation, as I have suggested, is partly responsible for evening out the character of the music, the recording has again to take a larger share of the blame. I can understand the engineers' wish to bring a maximum of detail to the fore, but the resulting oppressive balance and hoarse orchestral sound, with everything crowded into the foreground, is tiring on the ear. The music deserves better, and so does the performance. (The timing of track 5, the scherzo, should read 2'31'' rather than 7'31'', incidentally; the overall timing of the disc is therefore 50'38''.)
Recordings of the Schoenberg have come and gone over the years. Brendel's DG version (nla) in particular had much to offer. The most interesting current alternative, if you can find it, is Glenn Gould with Mitropoulos and the New York Philharmonic, recorded live in 1958 (Nuova Era/New Note (CD) 0136306—not submitted for review)—a reading of almost fanatical drive and electricity and by no means as murkily recorded as others on this label. It comes with a superb Schoenberg Orchestral Variations (Mitropoulos/Berlin Philharmonic) and an echt-Gould Bach D minor Concerto (with Mitropoulos and the Concertgebouw), again live recordings from around 1960.'