A new Beethoven sonata cycle is usually a major event, whether in performance or on record. Alfredo Perl is the latest pianist to commit his view of these seminal masterpieces to disc, as well as performing them in concert series in his home city of Santiago, in Moscow and in London’s Wigmore Hall. Unlike Pollini, in his ongoing survey at London’s Royal Festival Hall, Perl has not adopted a chronological structure to his programming, believing that such an approach looks better on paper than it actually sounds in performance. Similarly, his recording of the set does not follow the sonatas strictly in sequence: this may irritate some collectors, but it does allow each disc to stand as an independent ‘recital’ while also forming just one part of the complete journey.
Being a young pianist from Chile, Perl has had to endure inevitable comparisons with the late Claudio Arrau. While there are certainly some similarities between their respective approaches to Beethoven (Arrau was of course a great role model and influence for the younger artist), Perl is nevertheless a musician with a strongly personal vision and integrity. Like Arrau, he believes that the performer’s personality must be subordinated fully to the composer’s essential message: his Beethoven sonatas have an unselfconscious directness with no trace of self-promotion.
There is an enormous amount to celebrate in these performances. The rhythmic power of these works is communicated with a genuine sense of enjoyment, and one of the most striking features of Perl’s playing, particularly in the outer movements, is that he never shies away from the sforzandos or the subito pianos which are so important to Beethoven’s style. Indeed, he attacks these dynamic accents and contrasts with such dramatic rigour that certain movements – the finale to the Moonlight, for example – are animated with a rare vitality. It is in the more highly charged movements where Perl is most compelling (the outer movements of the Pathetique, the opening movement of Op. 10 No. 1, and the finales of Op. 2 No. 1 and Op. 10 No. 2). The A major Sonata, Op. 101 (which, incidentally, Perl considers physically the hardest of the sonatas to play), receives a tremendous performance, both musically and technically, and the second movement in particular is a marvel of understated virtuosity.
In the movements of more lyrical simplicity Perl can be less convincing. In the second movement of Op. 90, for example, he does not make the piano sing, and his tone can occasionally sound a little bland. His fortes, too, can be rather hard-edged, although the bright recording does not help him here. Perl’s tempos – often a thorny subject, especially in Beethoven – have been the cause of some debate: he favours extremes, juxtaposing especially rapid fast movements with protracted slow movements. In Op. 101, for example, he follows the march-like second movement, taken dangerously fast, with a particularly drawn-out Adagio. (He achieves a similar effect with the Adagio and Rondo of the Pathetique.)
When it comes to complete sets of the Beethoven sonatas, most people will have their own favourites: I have always admired the vitality and spontaneity of Barenboim’s first set for HMV from the late 1960s, and, depending on what your priorities are in these works, Brendel, Gilels and Arrau (to name but three) are all equally recommendable. If you wish to sample just one disc from this series to get a flavour of Perl’s playing, then try Vol. 4 (ranging from the Pathetique to Op. 101). Perl has entered a hugely competitive field, but once his cycle is complete I believe it will be one of the finest new versions by a young pianist to have emerged in recent years.'