For quite a while Gelber has confined himself in the Denon recording studios to Beethoven sonatas. Now, with 16 in the bag, he has allowed himself time off for Brahms—obviously for him no ''relic from a primeval age'' (Hugo Wolf), but as impressionable a romantic as the nineteenth century ever saw, particularly in the youthful F minor Sonata. Heard just once on a concert platform, such a rousing emotional appeal would be hard to resist. I suspect, however, that after repeated playings on disc, Gelber's reading might soon seem too self-indulgent, not least because of his addiction to rubato in point-making.
In the first movement, where admittedly Brahms himself requests a fair amount of elasticity, his over-reactions surely undermine the music's structural stability. The slow movement brings some delicate ben cantando and for the most part a nice sense of intimacy. But I thought the laden coda too slow even for the molto qualifying its andante espressivo—except for the last 13 adagio bars which are relatively too quick. The Scherzo is boldly projected, but I dislike Gelber's recurrent rhythmic mannerism first heard at 0'30'' in track three; the trio section is warmly sung. After you recover from his disruptive ritenuto at the end of the first phrase, the ''Ruckblick'' improves. In the finale, headed Allegro moderato ma rubato, he can of course enjoy himself to the full. However, as also in the opening movement, he sometimes sacrifices sheer keyboard finesse in the heat of excitement.
By their very nature the later Handel Variations elicit a more straightforward approach. In some of the earlier numbers in particular I thought his accentuation obtrusively forceful. Yet for the most part he relishes the work's contrasts without exaggeration, finding a liquid enough grace for such numbers as 16, 17, 18, 19, 21 and 22 to offset the intensity he brings to the more searching gravity of Nos. 9, 13 and 20. And the fugal home-coming is imperious. The recording is acceptable enough.'