The first sign of trouble comes after the minicadenza in the first movement exposition, which Gavrilov concludes so artificially that the cellos and basses are completely nonplussed—wherever they placed their entry it would sound unnatural. From there on distress signals are emitted with such regularity that the whole performance can only be rated intensely disappointing.
From a less famous pianist the playing would still indicate exceptional promise, and the disappointment is only proportionate to the expectations raised by Gavrilov's earlier recordings, including a tumultuous, strong-willed Rachmaninov No. 3 (EMI ESD7032, 4/77). What has gone wrong in the meantime is anybody's guess. But this concerto mercilessly exposes chinks in a pianist's armour, and on this showing Gavrilov seems to be going through a fallible stage, from which one can only hope he will emerge the stronger.
Apart from the mannered phrasing, of which that first flourish is an example, Gavrilov seems to be discomfited by technical obstacles which previously he would surmount with ease. He huffs and puffs at the big first movement cadenza without really conquering it; the middle section of the slow movement is skated over (and the balance does the piano no favours at all, allowing the orchestra to swamp it here and on many other occasions); he takes a basic tempo for the finale which allows for no piu mosso where marked and which soon has both the orchestra and himself flailing for the notes.
Mis-hits as a concomitant to a sense of abandon are one thing—one accepts them readily in an account so explosive as Horowitz's on RCA (though I wish people would not pretend they do not exist). But without that spontaneity they inevitably draw attention to themselves. Most upsetting of all is to hear the grand gestures of old without the substance to back them up—the massive emphatic ritenutos, which once so effectively damned up a torrential flow, sound unconvincing now that that flow comes in illogical, spasmodic jets.
If nothing else Gavrilov's difficulties increase one's respect for performances such as the listed comparisons (but how one wishes DG could persuade Martha Argerich to take her much-vaunted account into the studio). The sound-quality on the old Horowitz/Reiner is now so improved as to be almost tolerable, whilst that for Wild and Horenstein (also on RCA—LP only) has been transformed in the Chandos digital remastering for CD (-- CD CHAN8521/2, 9/87). On the new EMI the piano sound itself lacks a degree of immediacy, and the instrument has a curiously glassy patch in the treble.'