It was time we had a new recording of Richard Strauss's exuberant early sonata. These two well-equipped artists play with enough verve, romantic warmth and potency of mood contrast to hold your attention throughout its 32 (all but six seconds) prodigal minutes. And there can scarcely be higher praise, since—if the truth be told—all three movements do slightly outstay their welcome.
Only in the slow movement was I briefly worried by balance. Though very well able to stand up to Oppitz's power at moments of expansive climax, Mordkovitch favours a more ethereal pianissimo than his, and once or twice tapers phrase endings almost to the point of inaudibility.
Stylistically, I thought them more at home on German than French soil—or so it seemed in close comparison with the more fluid and mercurial Grumiaux and Crossley on Philips. Trying to make their Faure expressive, the newcomers opt for tempos marginally too slow in the Andante and the concluding Allegro quasi presto. And there is not quite Grumiaux's and Crossley immediacy and intimacy of repartee. Both pianists are sometimes guilty of overpedalling. But Crossley is the more discreet in balance. In this work I was again several times aware of Mordokovitch's liking for a very fine-spun, withdrawn kind of pianissimo—and the problems involved for the pianist in matching it. But heard on its own, this performance, too, has plenty to commend it in its more Germanically expressive way. The recording is truthful.'