Though perhaps indelibly linked in many people's minds with the figure of his teacher and friend, Busoni, Egon Petri was, in fact, very much his own man. For one thing, their playing was entirely different. Whereas the Italian was a magnetic pianist who could raise from the instrument sounds that transformed it almost into an orchestra, Petri, whilst admittedly having a terrific virtuoso technique and an ability to vary sonority very effectively, was a pianist more intent on conveying the essence of the music—and sometimes the edges were a little ragged.
The APR discs offer pre-Second-World-War Columbia 78s. To be frank, the recorded sound is disappointing for the date, especially so in the Brahms Op. 79 Rhapsodies. It is the four Beethoven sonatas that come off the best, even though one frequently gets the impression that Petri is having to hold his big and assertive tone in check for much of the time. The structural contours are drawn very boldly. When the music demands it, however, as in the second movement of Op. 78, there can also be a disarming delicacy to act as an effective foil. The opening movement of Op. 111 is pretty explosive, great washes of sound leading one through with an inevitable momentum to the Arietta. This is a splendorous reading; rich-toned and wonderfully steady. Despite a rather forbidding appearance, Petri was no academic when it came to interpreting a score, and he takes a fair amount of liberty with Beethoven's dynamic markings here.
The sound-quality is much better in the Brahms Handel Variations than it is for the Rhapsodies, but I felt the performance of the set suffered from an unduly forced pace. The two books of Variations on a Theme by Paganini serve to flesh out one's impression of the comprehensiveness of Petri's virtuoso equipment. Nevertheless, I was left with the idea of an admirable Brahms player who, regrettably, was not really able to transmit the humanity of the composer, only his magnificent accomplishment.
The Music and Arts CDs contain many wonderful things, even if the recorded piano tone does again intrude quite frequently to spoil one's enjoyment. The Chopin Preludes and B minor Sonata are compelling, if straightforward, readings. A staggering tour de force is the two-piano version of Busoni's Fantasia contrappuntistica, in which Petri is partnered by Bussotti. Marvellous, too, it is to hear the life-enhancing energy put into Medtner's Danza festiva. Of the different transcriptions, Petri's own reworking of Bach's ''Sheep may safely graze'' from the Hunt Cantata, No. 208 is touching and irresistibly Christmassy in mood, while the Schubert/Liszt Die Forelle contains superb virtuosity in the cadenza-like episodes.
Only in the 1950s did the pianist feel truly satisfied with his playing. The three last Beethoven sonatas date from 1954, though perhaps one should not apply the same criteria here that one would if they were studio recordings. In Op. 109 the playing is generally very direct, if a little unsteady at times; it is only in the fourth variation of the finale that one encounters an unconventional, almost impressionistic approach. The ghostly murmurings of the demisemiquaver passages following the syncopated variation in Op. 111's Arietta are equally ear-catching and memorable. The latter sonata is the most successful of the three. In conclusion, I must mention the thrilling and deeply personal reading of Liszt's Venezia e Napoli, recorded shortly before Petri's death in 1962. Wayward it may be, but I have seldom heard Liszt emerge with such astonishingly vivid power.'