The existence of many published keyboard transcriptions of orchestral works written a century or so ago may be a reflection of a time when domestic access to them came only through the piano and one's own fingers, often with those of a friend. They may also reflect the fact that many composers wrote at the piano and first sketched out these works on up to four staves. It is pointed out, too, by the booklet note with the Duo Crommelynck's disc that Brahms and his younger colleague Ignaz Brull gave a semi-public duet performance of Brahms's C minor Symphony six weeks before the orchestral premiere in December 1876, and that he published a four-hand version of his E minor Symphony two years after the first performance.
The E minor (Fourth) Symphony comes first in this programme, and the artists give its gentle initial theme considerable rhythmic flexibility, piling on the urgency and speed as we approach the striding second subject in B minor. I don't much care for this, feeling that part of the Brahmsian strength in the first movement lies in the steadiness of the pulse; still, the playing is alive and exciting. In fact, high drama seems to be a chief aim of the Duo and certainly they give it to us. At the same time the development has the right mystery, although the piano cannot whisper in the cloudy quaver passages as an orchestra does. The players use a good deal of sustaining pedal, but make a case for that, and are fully committed in the hushed Andante sostenuto and the boisterous scherzo that follows. However, the latter is a bit serious for a movement marked giocoso and no piano can substitute for the tingling excitement provided by the triangle in the orchestral score; the same must be said of the beautiful flute solo in the twelfth variation of the finale (2'34''), which is rather dully played, and the solemn effect of the trombones in the fourteenth.
Nevertheless, overall the performance has the right cumulative quality, and this is also true of the First Symphony, which is even more dramatic and perhaps for that reason played after the Fourth. In fact, although one may query this or that feature of these performances, they are faithful and pretty satisfying. But I can't help grudging my praise to the extent of saying that I don't think even the best accounts of these transcriptions measure up to the orchestral scores which were Brahms's chosen statements—for more examples, compare the opening of the third movement of the First Symphony here with the graceful clarinet solo which is one of his happiest inspirations, or this piano version with the great horn tune at 2'04'' in the finale, and you may feel that colour has been drained away without compensatory gain. The recorded sound is beefy but acceptable.
You might think that the St Antoni Variations merely continue this debate, but these were first published in their keyboard form (although the orchestral version seems to have been the one that was first played in public) and I don't think anyone will feel a lack of orchestral colour in a good performance such as this one by Eden and Tamir, which is recorded with a pleasant ripeness. I enjoyed the playing, though here and there, as in the Theme itself, I thought it was just a little strait-laced and I question the duo's tendency to slow down too much at cadences, which imperils momentum in a sectional work such as this. But make no mistake, it is thoughtful and enjoyable. They play the 16 Waltzes and 15 Neue Liebeslieder waltzes with a good lilt and the appropriate verve although it is possible to imagine such a piece as the E major Waltz (No. 2 of Op. 39) being given still more Viennese charm as encouraged by the dolce marking. However, for the Variations I do prefer the very mellow account by Perahia and Solti for CBS, which fairly glows with Gemutlichkeit and affection (and joy, too, where appropriate), and is beautifully recorded (digitally too) in The Maltings, Snape—they are a still better choice for this work if their coupling of Bartok's Sonata for two pianos and percussion suits you.'