With the establishment of the 80-minute Compact Disc the old favourite Beethoven sonata programme of Pathetique, Moonlight and Appassionata has become something of a rarity, and there is now a bewildering variety of 'named-sonata' recitals to choose from, from which it is surprisingly difficult to emerge with unreserved recommendations.
Ashkenazy's new recording duplicates his mid-price Decca compilation from recordings made between 1973 and 1979. The only significant differences in artistic conception affect the first movements of the Moonlight and the Appassionata, both of which are distinctly faster than before. The Appassionata benefits considerably from the tighter sense of integration, and presumably the idea in the Moonlight is to take more account of the alla breve time signature. The problem with the latter is that Ashkenazy still favours agogic hesitations which once latched on to are maddeningly predictable—they exceed anything that might be required merely to cushion the sound of a richly projected melody-line. And in general it seems that Ashkenazy is so concerned with clarifying Beethoven's textures that he forgets this is only the means to an end. The vice-like grip he exerts on the fast movements is immensely impressive, and the sense of determination is part and parcel of the Beethovenian sense of drama; but there are times when flow and momentum suffer. Recording quality is naturally more refined than before, but the choice of instrument remains problematical—not for the first time Ashkenazy seems to have chosen a piano with a subdued treble that virtually compels him to force the tone out.
Tamas Vasary is not noted first and foremost as a Beethoven player, but his new recording is of consistently high quality and has moments of distinction. Fast movements in particular are impressively fiery but also controlled—the shaping of the Appassionata finale corresponds particularly well to the stresses and strains of the music. The drawbacks are principally with slower movements—the kind of rhythmic nuance Vasary favours is too often destructive of the musical flow, and the opening of the Moonlight is not remotely pianissimo, while the adagio cantabile of the Pathetique limps along with wholly inappropriate swaying notes inegales. A further problem is an acoustic which allows the sound to saturate too easily, compounded by an occasional tendency on Vasary's part to over-pedal.
As I said, unqualified recommendations are particularly difficult in this repertoire. Kempff on DG sounds more consistently inside the music than either Ashkenazy or Vasary, but his playing is tonally rough and marred by moments of didacticism, and this is not a disc which shows why he is such a widely revered Beethovenian. For largeness of conception and pianistic mastery Gilels on DG in the same coupling as Kempff is something of a classic; even here though, the Appassionata first movement is excessively ponderous, and Gilels belongs to a particular tradition (as do Ashkenazy, Vasary and Kempff) which views Beethoven's pedal-effects as impractical. Lupu on mid-price Decca and Pollini on DG (the latter coupled with Op. 31 No. 2 and Op. 79) show how wonderful those effects can be and how crucial to the character and design of entire movements. Decca's 1972 recordings now sound rather uningratiating, but Lupu's interpretations are among the most broadly satisfying you will find; DG give Pollini a somewhat clinical sound-image, but the sternness and elevated thought behind the playing are not necessarily ill-served thereby.'