A natural coupling this, but I can't recall it ever actually appearing before now. Generally speaking the performances are as fine as the names on the cover would lead you to expect, but I confess to having had misgivings to start with. It was the Sonata (Side 2 of the LP) I played first, and here the introduction is so slow that tension ebbs away and you wonder whether the accellerando wil ever make it to the allegro molto main tempo. It does, of course, and there is much brilliant playing all round in this movement. What is missing is a clear identity such as the white-light intellectualism of the Kontarskys (DG 2530 964, 6/78—nla), the folkloristic flavour of the composer's own recording (Hungaroton mono LPX12332—nla) or the incandescence of Argerich and Bishop-Kovacevich (Philips), who, incidentally, show that the first movement introduction can be slow without loss of inner tension. In addition there are off-putting rhythmic mannerisms which, in one case, turn 26 bars of 9/8 into a perfectly smooth 5/4.
From the second movement on it is a different story. Here there is just the eerie tension which was missing at the beginning of the first movement; in fact, the parched interior landscape is as compellingly conveyed as I can ever remember. And the finale has terrific vitality, just a hint of the supersonic for its own sake, but also a range of colour and interplay of accent which is irresistible.
The EMI recording is surprisingly soft-grained for music of this character. In the Sonata the timpani are poorly defined, whereas the xylophone looms alarmingly close. In the Concerto transcription the accompaniment is so distant that it is difficult to be sure at times whether it is there at all, and both comparative versions certainly make far more of the orchestral contribution. Still, the new record rather nicely reflects Paul Griffiths's reference in the sleeve-note to ''beams of coloured light through the monochrome structures of the original'', and the problems of rythm and tempo in the Sonata first movement are less noticeable in the Concerto, while the virtues of the rest are every bit as clear. Neither of the comparative versions of the Concerto is without its minor drawbacks, but all three performances have sufficient panache that the coupling may be a significant factor—Philips for Argerich and Freire rather ungenerously and unimaginatively offer Kodaly's Dances of Galanta. Hungaroton have Bartok's rarely heard Suite, Op. 4b.'