As a young man Brahms, a strong pianist himself, probably exulted in the sonatas, and later in the variations and rhapsodies which he wrote in profusion for his instrument. But later still, in the short piano pieces—again written in profusion—perhaps his heart rather than his strength was the more truly reflected.
Of course I do not know whether Alexeev agrees with this overall view; I do know that his own playing sounds as if he does. It is extraordinarily persuasive: nothing is exaggerated, nothing put in the way of the expressive music shaping itself naturallyM or reflecting its own mood. Of course the successive moods are varied ones; Brahms saw to that. This is reflected in the groupings of the pieces, which enlarged themselves as they went along: originally each group of eight was two groups of four, but always the group concerned was a varied one. The variety leaned heavily on that of Capriccios and Intermezzos. Perhaps in logic an intermezzo can be of any musical character (or, as Max Harrison suggests in a thoughtful sleeve-note, it is a catch-all name for a short piece the composer has difficulty in naming); in Brahms's own practice, here, it is gentle, lyrical, and often lovable. Or, again, it is made to seem so by the qualities of Alexeev's performance.
When the music is especially exciting (the final and only Rhapsody, for example, at the end of the last set) of course Alexeev rises to it, as I am sure he would to the sonatas and variations if asked; but many pianists who can function satisfactorily in those larger pieces would be hard to put to it to sound so convincing in these shorter ones. Just twice, on a point of detail, I though Alexeev odd: in both the A major and A minor Intermezzos of Op. 76 he extends a silence (not a silent pause) unduly: the music seems to stop and re-start. The other thousands of bars on the records seem just-right: the E major Intermezzo of Op. 116, for example, an especially sensitive reading.
The recorded quality of the piano is strong and clear, with perhaps a slight edge to the instrument's tone (as recorded) which can be cleared readily enough by a touch on the treble control. The nature of groups of small pieces, even those intended to be played in groups, is to allow for easy spacing on record. Thus, in the event only one group, Op. 118, is broken over two sides; and this could have been avoided only at the expense of breaking historical continuity. With the qualities of music and piano playing on offer either solution would likely seem a very acceptable one!'