Rachmaninov: complete piano preludes: 1941 – 1942 recordings

Prelude opus 3 no 2; 10 Preludes opus 23; 13 Preludes opus 32

Moura Lympany (piano)

DECCA 482 6266 (2CD)

TPT: 76’ 42”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

She was christened Mary Johnstone – but because the name sounded too ordinary for an on-stage career, Miss Johnstone became Moura Lympany, the surname an altered version of her mother’s maiden name. And she was – and will ever be – the only musician to have recorded the complete piano preludes of Rachmaninov on, firstly, 78rpm discs, then on LP and, finally, on CD.

All the 78rpm recordings were made at DECCA’s West Hampstead studios during WWII. It was often a stressful experience. Editing out errors was not possible on 78 rpm discs. It was all-or-nothing.

If there was a slip of the finger, smudged pedalling, a fluffed note, a loss of momentum – a lapse of any sort – the prelude would need to be recorded again from scratch. At one particularly frustrating session, not a single prelude was deemed good enough for preservation. Sometimes, all would go well, at other times, a piece would sound below par and needing to be recorded again and again (and yet again) if considered necessary. It says much, then, for Lympany’s abilities that there’s not a dull moment; every piece sounds fresh and newly minted.

During the Blitz – like fellow pianist Dame Myra Hess in Hampstead –  young Moura would take shelter beneath her grand piano in the event of a Luftwaffe bombing raid. There were so many terrible happenings during these horror years. One morning in May, 1941, for instance, Moura, on her way to Queen’s Hall to record Cesar Franck’s Variations Symphoniques, found, to her horror, that the hall had taken a direct hit, leaving a pile of rubble.

True, some of her later recordings of these works have greater depth, others are approached in slightly subtler ways – but they all bear the stamp of distinction.

Throughout, Lympany sounds utterly in control, again and again surmounting with ease the sort of technical hurdles that would cause lesser players to throw their hands up in despair. Some more about hands: Rachmaninov’s were enormous and he wrote music to take advantage of this – to the despair of  musicians with smaller hands.

It is 76 years since Lympany’s Rachmaninov recordings first came on the market. They have weathered well. Brash, lilting, aggressive, sensuous, gentle, melancholy, introspective, suave – these and a myriad other moods are summoned up by a musician at the peak of her skills.

Stephen Siek’s liner notes are first rate. They make engrossing reading.

Unheard Mozart

Anthony Goldstone (piano)

divine art dda25051

TPT: 71’ 44”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Over the years, as I’ve listened to the recordings of Mozart by Anthony Goldstone, I almost invariably think of the biblical story of Ruth who, following in the wake of  those harvesting this or that grain, would find nourishment for herself and others from the scattered ears of corn or wheat. Ruth was a gleaner. So, too, in a very different context, was Goldstone.

Think of these snippets of musical thoughts, incomplete or abandoned ideas, scraps of paper with a scribble or two (meaningless to most but musicologically beyond price in some cases) –  which, in the minds of most, would be considered as so much rubbish to be thrown away.

In the biblical Ruth’s case, her gleanings sustained life – and in Goldstone’s case, tiny scraps of paper, sometimes a bigger piece left unfinished or unedited were re-animated. Here, Goldstone breathed life into what almost everyone else would have dismissed as inconsequential – to be thrown away with no thought given to the possibility it might be musical gold. What most others would regard with indifference, Goldstone saw as rich possibility.

And what fascinating miniatures these are: part, perhaps, say of a piece that would be carefully completed by Goldstone: a minuet perhaps – or a sarabande.

Mozart aficionados the world over owe an immense debt of gratitude to this remarkable man who with scrupulous care – and affection – brought to life what, in lesser hands (and minds), would simply have been left lying in the dust. His passing leaves us all the poorer.

Goldstone realised the potential of these snippets which others might unthinkingly have dismissed as worthless, ephemeral, expendable, barely worthy of attention. Wrong!

There is a delightful improvisatory quality to the opening Praeludium: the recorded sound quality is excellent in a piece which oscillates between slow introspection and virtuosic brilliance. It’s rather like an improvised cadenza. Glowing, golden tone and impeccably spun trills are fine features.  A number of pieces were found unfinished and – one senses a profound humility in this – lovingly, respectfully completed.

Black Swan – State Theatre Company

Endgame (Samuel Beckett)

State Theatre

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Photographer – Daniel James Grant

He’s like the spirit of malevolence and bitterness: blind, marooned in a chair from which he almost never moves as he dispenses – generously –  bile and self-hatred.

He’s not the sort of person anyone would willingly want to befriend. But Clov – played with masterly skill by Kelton Pell – has reserves of patience and compassion that are wildly out of proportion to the constant stream of unpleasantness that issues from Hamm.

Pell is star of the production; his characterisation is wonderfully, and satisfyingly, complete. There’s understated artistry in his every gesture, the slightest semi-sentence. He makes of Clov a man of angelic patience, never for a moment – not even a second – gruff, abrasive, dismissive. His every word and gesture are informed by a quietness – a calmness – that make him the very antithesis of Hamm.

Clov climbs a ladder.(He never sits – anywhere, any time.) He places a foot on the first rung – and waits a while before bringing his other foot to the same rung – and so on. In a sense this typifies Clov – quiet, unhurried, gentle with a near-angelic forbearance.

Despite given every reason to,  he NEVER raises his voice. There’s quiet understatement to his every word – the absolute antithesis of the monstrous Hamm., – but although viscerally unpleasant, one cannot help feeling pity for this dreadfully stricken being.

Hamm’s handicaps are awful;  his abrasiveness, his virtually complete lack of empathy add to the sheer unpleasantness of the man.  But – and this is the crucial question – how many others would act differently to awful Hamm in his dreadful predicament.

Who would uncomplainingly accept blindness and additional incapacity? How many would accept being weighed down by such hideous handicaps? It is so easy to be judgemental – but how many in a similarly awful  situation would act differently?

Then there are Nell (Caroline McKenzie) and Nagg (George Shevtsov), both legless, each living in a bin. Although on a much smaller scale, their parts require consistent skill – and on this score, they both deliver wholesale.

This is a five-star offering, much due to first rate direction by Andrew Ross.. I hope it’s seen by thousands. It deserves to be.

Songs without Words

Slava Grigoryan & Leonard Grigoryan (guitars)

ABC Classics CD 481 5101

TPT: 53’ 34”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Grigoryan Brothers - Songs Without WordsIf ever you’ve come home after a really tough day at the office, perhaps an accidental wiping of a crucial report that cannot be retrieved and/or encountering a maddening traffic jam on the way home – what might one do?.

A few soothing gins and tonic or something a bit stronger might be just what’s needed to soothe frazzled nerves – but there’s another, frankly better,  way to chill out (without any risk at all of a hangover): put the Grigoryan brothers’ newest CD on – and relax to a joint effort that’ll work its magic in mere moments.

Seventeen tracks enshrine some of the world’s most loved melodies.

Take your pick: Rachmaninov’s Vocalise, Elgar’s Chanson de matin (a charmladen delight) and a Seguidilla, the bracing urgency of which rivets the attention. It’s from an arrangement for two guitars of the full set of de Falla’s Seven Spanish Folk Songs.

I particularly like the gently lulling quality of Nana which, Falla has pointed out, was a song his mother used to sing to him when very young.  These delights are given near-flawless treatment, not least the first of the set: The Moorish Cloth. It’s beautifully negotiated with its crisp rhythmic underpinning. There’s a lively, lovely account of the Jota, its rhythms irresistible – and the Cancion is finely considered.  The very challenging Polo needs a greater sense of urgency, though.

The brothers’ account of Tchaikowsky’s None but the Lonely Heart would surely charm even the grumpiest bird from a twig – and there’s an exquisitely languid account of Ponce’s Little Star.

There are sure to be tracks which listeners will happily play over and over  – and over – again. Don’t take my word for it. Get yourself a copy – and feel those nerve knots relaxing.

Beethoven – Piano Sonatas Andor Foldes (piano)

Andor Foldes (piano)

Beethoven: Piano Sonatas

Op 13 (Pathetique); opus 28 (Pastorale); opus 31 No 2 (Tempest); opus 53 (Waldstein); opus 57 (Appassionata);opus 81a (Les Adieux); opus 101; opus 109

DGG Eloquence 482 5854 (2CDs)

TPP: 79’26” & 74’09”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

BEETHOVEN_Sonatas_Foldes_masterBeethoven’s Les Adieux sonata is not for faint-hearted pianists. Some of it is the sound-equivalent of finest petit point embroidery done at top speed. Few can do so without, as it were, pricking a finger or two. But Foldes is up there with the best, traversing the finale’s measures without a stumble or three. Foldes is certainly no slouch here.

It’s sonatas such as these that Foldes would frequently include in recital programs together with music of Bartok – a painless way to introduce new audiences to what at the time would for many have sounded astonishing, unexpected or even bizarre to listeners in, say, Kenya or Bloemfontein.

Foldes also gave recitals in Bulawayo and Harare (then known as Salisbury) in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), then thought of as the bread basket of Africa but now a hobbled wreck of a country – a basket case –  due to the arrogant, brutal and possibly mentally unbalanced incumbency of Robert Mugabe who, when he finally shuffles off to the oblivion that he so richly deserves, leaves a country laid waste due entirely to his hideous misrule. But even now, as the country sinks ever deeper into ruin, there are still other African leaders who extol the excellence and wisdom of Mugabe’s ‘vision’!

There’s first rate treatment of opus 101, its immensely challenging measures making it a closed book to most pianists. I’m listening to the fugue as I write this. With what effervescence, clarity and momentum Foldes imbues the notes. It is like a paean of joy. In opus109, its quasi-extemporisation quality is conveyed to memorable effect. It often borders on the ecstatic.  And it is so refreshingly free of exaggerations that lesser players offer too often in the name of  ‘interpretation”.

Some of the sonatas were originally recorded by Foldes on LP as far back as 1959. Their transfer to CD is timely. It will enable a new constituency of listeners to experience Foldes’ artistry. And for those coming to Beethoven for the first time, this fine compilation might well be an ideal first foray into the Bonn master’s wondrous creative territory.

Bartok: Piano Works

Andor Foldes (piano)

Eloquence DGG 480 7100 (4CDs)

TPT: 212’ 06”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

In the 1950s, South Africa was very far from the main highways of the international concert circuit. So, when Andor Foldes arrived to give concerts in Johannesburg and Cape Town, it was a visit of considerable consequence. His African itinerary began as far north as Kenya and then, travelling ever southwards, there were concerts as well in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) – in Bulawayo and then-Salisbury – and then the Union of South Africa (as it was then known).

Bartok CDFoldes played concertos with orchestras in Johannesburg and Cape Town – and the works he performed were mainstream – Mozart and Beethoven.  But there was another, very significant, arrow to Foldes’ bow.

He’d studied with Bartok and was a passionate advocate for his compatriot’s music, specially that written for piano.

 

In Cape Town, apart from his work with orchestra, Foldes met, and played for, members of the South African Society of Music Teachers (SASMT). Much of Foldes’ repertoire was by Bartok which in those days was considered ultra-modern – and its performers very daring. Those piano teachers who’d attended that meeting and listened to Foldes at the keyboard were agog; it was a startling, completely new sound- and mood-world which Foldes revealed.

Its complex rhythmic patterns – and unusual and sometimes grating dissonances –  triggered gasps of astonishment (I was told  later). The sonic and stylistic Bartokian world that Foldes revealed at that long-ago performance was so unexpected, so startling, even shocking, that it made an indelible impression on those present.

If Foldes’ intention was to carry the flag for his compatriot, it was an immensely effective way to do so.

Within weeks of his visit, a shipment of some of Bartok’s piano scores (brought by Union Castle Line steamers which plied weekly between Cape Town and Southampton) arrived. Far and away the most popular of these works was Bartok’s Five Rumanian Dances.  To this day in South Africa, it’s very often heard in local eisteddfodau.

Foldes’ keyboard wizardry is abundantly present in an Eloquence 4-CD pack. It’s on compact discs for the first time. It is one of most significant and worthwhile re-issues of earlier recordings in the Eloquence series.

He does wonders with the material; his recordings have the stamp of the highest authority, a magnificent tribute to the composer’s genius – and one of his chief interpreter’s most significant offerings.

Foldes plays Bartok’s Out of Doors suite with an understanding of style and mood which totally engages the listener. (This was a particular favourite of the composer who frequently played it when stressed by health or financial problems. It brought him an inner peace.)

Much the same can be said of just about everything in this collection. Fifteen Hungarian Peasant Songs is pure delight as is a confrontingly muscular account of Allegro barbaro.

The Cambridge Buskers Collection

Michael Copley (flutes); Dag Ingram (accordion)

DG 482 1785  (4 CDs)

TPT: 4 hours 55 minutes 16 seconds

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

The Cambridge BuskersFar and away the most intriguing busker I’ve ever come across was in Cape Town when I was a child. He was an overweight man without arms, seated in a wheelchair with a wind-up gramophone and a tiny tin of needles on the ground just in front of him. His feet were bare.

Incredible as this must seem to those who have never experienced it, this remarkable figure used ten astonishingly versatile toes (of normal length) to extract a needle from the tin and insert it in the appropriate place in the gramophone arm. Then, with the 78rpm record whirling around on the turntable, he’d place the arm perfectly on the spinning shellac disc, an achievement invariably prompting applause and a mini-shower of coins from astonished onlookers.

More conventionally, Thomas Gould , a sensational young violinist, has busked in the London Underground. And Joshua Bell, another superb fiddler, also famously did a spot of busking in a Washington subway, an event that created headlines internationally.

Then there are the Cambridge Buskers, a duo who must surely go down as the most celebrated of all street musicians. Their LPs sold like hotcakes (still do, I understand) – and now they are on compact disc, a bumper 4CD pack.

How refreshing it is to listen to these fine musicians – and they are both very much at the top of their game whether on accordion, flute, recorder or crumhorn – sending up the classics in a most delightful, tongue-in-cheek way. This sort of thing is VERY difficult to bring off successfully – and it requires high artistry.

It is definitely not for beginners who would almost certainly discover how very easy it is to sound ham handed, earthbound, tasteless and crass in an initiative such as this.

But with the CB players wondrously on their musical toes, there’s not a hint of this. These two chaps know exactly what they are doing – and they do so beautifully in delightfully buoyant and engaging musicmaking. How easily this sort of musical sendup can sound tasteless and, worst of all, boring. No chance of that, I’m happy to say, with these two fellows.

Delightfully quirky – now sparking a chuckle, now a guffaw

It is only musicians who are thoroughly trained and experienced who can take on a challenge such as this – and make it work. As any famous movie comedian will say, it’s jolly hard to be funny The CB fellows, though, seem born to it with their zany expeditions through revered classics – anything from Flight (or might it have been Fight?) of the Valkyries to all of Beethoven ‘s nine symphonies crammed into 5 minutes by two chaps on a jolly romp through the classics. It’s an absolutely jolly wheeze, wouldn’t you say, by two musically madcap fellows?

It’s all jolly good fun as that light hearted wit Margaret Thatcher might have opined – and sure to give the apoplexy to those who believe that bringing humour to the classics borders on criminality.

The Operatic Pianist

Andrew Wright (piano)

Divine Art dda 25113

TPT: 64’48”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

The Operatic PianistDuring the 19th century, there was a remarkable flowering of operatic composition. It met a huge popular demand and every European city of significance built an opera house to cater for the genre’s enthusiasts. But for opera lovers living in small towns, say, or in villages, there was almost no opportunity to experience opera, apart from, perhaps, a visit from this or that small touring company. To counter this shortage – or complete absence – of opera beyond the big cities, pianists responded to this need by incorporating into their recitals arrangements of operatic excerpts, most frequently a favourite aria, say, or this or that overture or dance episode.

This was a successful development and some pianists were able to maintain careers based largely on these operatic offerings.  And until radio and recordings made opera more widely available, operatic extravaganzas at the keyboard kept many pianists very busy on the concert circuit.

Nowadays, operatic excerpts in piano recitals are rare – and Andrew Wright is one of the few musicians to maintain the tradition. This fascinating CD includes not only 19th- century operatic extracts but some composed by Wright himself.

They make intriguing listening.

Operatic extracts for piano solo or piano duet were also very popular in the drawing rooms of wealthy homes in European cities. This was especially so for young ladies for whom some accomplishment at the piano was considered desirable in the marriage stakes.

Numbers of significant composers made arrangements of grand opera for piano solo, the most famous being Liszt. His versions of extracts from Wagner’s operas are still  occasionally encountered in piano recital programs. Israeli conductor Asher Fisch recently brought out a memorable CD of piano arrangements of Wagnerian opera extracts.

During much of the 19th century and up until the 1920s, virtuosic arrangements of this type were an ineradicable feature of just about every pianist on the international concert circuit.

But in broad terms, the age of virtuoso arrangements for piano of operatic extracts is largely past – but there’s a good deal to be said in positive terms of Andrew Wright’s CD “The Operatic Pianist”.

In the grand tradition of pianists playing their own arrangements of excerpts from this or that opera, we can listen to Wright’s own keyboard versions of extracts from, inter alia, Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable  in which he seems positively to revel in the many challenges posed by music that was never intended to be played on the piano. I think Meyerbeer would have been chuffed no end by Wright’s keyboard arrangement. It’s a winner.

Listen to the version of Casta Diva from Bellini’s Norma, here in an arrangement by  Sigismund Thalberg (no mean pianist himself). It is most beautifully played, its inherent simplicity of line presented with most appealing tone quality. Wright is no less persuasive in an arrangement of one of Wagner’s most loved arias: The Evening Star from Tannhauser. And the aching beauty of Liszt’s version for piano of Isolde’s Liebestod is splendidly revealed.

(piano)

Divine Art dda 25113

TPT: 64’48”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

The Operatic PianistDuring the 19th century, there was a remarkable flowering of operatic composition. It met a huge popular demand and every European city of significance built an opera house to cater for the genre’s enthusiasts. But for opera lovers living in small towns, say, or in villages, there was almost no opportunity to experience opera, apart from, perhaps, a visit from this or that small touring company. To counter this shortage – or complete absence – of opera beyond the big cities, pianists responded to this need by incorporating into their recitals arrangements of operatic excerpts, most frequently a favourite aria, say, or this or that overture or dance episode.

This was a successful development and some pianists were able to maintain careers based largely on these operatic offerings.  And until radio and recordings made opera more widely available, operatic extravaganzas at the keyboard kept many pianists very busy on the concert circuit.

Nowadays, operatic excerpts in piano recitals are rare – and Andrew Wright is one of the few musicians to maintain the tradition. This fascinating CD includes not only 19th- century operatic extracts but some composed by Wright himself.

They make intriguing listening.

Operatic extracts for piano solo or piano duet were also very popular in the drawing rooms of wealthy homes in European cities. This was especially so for young ladies for whom some accomplishment at the piano was considered desirable in the marriage stakes.

Numbers of significant composers made arrangements of grand opera for piano solo, the most famous being Liszt. His versions of extracts from Wagner’s operas are still  occasionally encountered in piano recital programs. Israeli conductor Asher Fisch recently brought out a memorable CD of piano arrangements of Wagnerian opera extracts.

During much of the 19th century and up until the 1920s, virtuosic arrangements of this type were an ineradicable feature of just about every pianist on the international concert circuit.

But in broad terms, the age of virtuoso arrangements for piano of operatic extracts is largely past – but there’s a good deal to be said in positive terms of Andrew Wright’s CD “The Operatic Pianist”.

In the grand tradition of pianists playing their own arrangements of excerpts from this or that opera, we can listen to Wright’s own keyboard versions of extracts from, inter alia, Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable  in which he seems positively to revel in the many challenges posed by music that was never intended to be played on the piano. I think Meyerbeer would have been chuffed no end by Wright’s keyboard arrangement. It’s a winner.

Listen to the version of Casta Diva from Bellini’s Norma, here in an arrangement by  Sigismund Thalberg (no mean pianist himself). It is most beautifully played, its inherent simplicity of line presented with most appealing tone quality. Wright is no less persuasive in an arrangement of one of Wagner’s most loved arias: The Evening Star from Tannhauser. And the aching beauty of Liszt’s version for piano of Isolde’s Liebestod is splendidly revealed.

“heard this and thought of you”

James Crabb (classical accordion) /Genevieve Lacey (recorders)

ABC Classics 481 1874

 TPT:  71’43”

 reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Read This and Thought of YouNotions of a wheezing classical accordion in combination with the tweeting tones of a soprano recorder might seem to some a less-than-delightful sonic mixture. But I’d say it would need only a few moments to persuade even the grumpiest listeners that with these two top performers on the job, musical magic is on offer.

Indeed, the artistry brought to bear on these instruments is such that these odd musical bedfellows work wonders. The result of their endeavours is frankly a delight in a compilation brimming with charm and gentle sonic ideas, some of the offerings reaching back as far as the 16th century – and a few items which might be thought of as having been composed as recently as yesterday afternoon.

Recercada segunda by Diego Ortiz (he died around 1570) is jovial and charm-laden, a delightfully busy item. Recercada primea is its melancholy partner. Where is everybody? –  composed two years ago by Andrea Keller – is very much of the here and now, a sombre and rather depressing utterance.

Listen to Damian Barbeler’s Shadow Box (2013-2014). It’s beautifully written, utterly engrossing as if emanating from a piper in some remote, faraway place.

Lacey and Crabb are in fine fettle in an arrangement on J.S.Bach’s Organ Sonata No 3 in D minor proving yet again the extraordinary universality of so much of Bach’s music; it sounds just as effective and meaningful in this arrangement for recorder and accordion. Reflective in the slow movement and nimble and accurate in the finale, Lacey and Crabb do Bach proud.

Crabb’s arrangement of Sally Beamish’s Lament comes across as an essay in visceral melancholy, music infused with sadness.  A little of Palestrina’s Vestiva i colli goes a long way; it is overlong for its material and outstays its welcome.

Two traditional Scottish pieces are a toe-tapping finale. Momentum is most effectively maintained; it‘s an engaging, quirky offering.

Grigory Sokolov (piano)

Schubert, Beethoven, Rameau

DG 479 5426

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

SokolovDuring the years when I taught music criticism, I would, early on in the course, ask how many of the students had listened to Beethoven’s Hammerklavier piano sonata, either ‘live’ or  recorded. Not a single student had done so. And during a lifetime of working as a critic, I recall only a very few occasions when I was able to listen to a ‘live’ account of this extraordinary work.

Its physical demands are so immense and its ideas so complex and taxing in both physical and emotional terms that only a very select few are game – and able – to traverse its dauntingly challenging terrain with confidence.

Decades ago,  at a recital in Cape Town, one of a series devoted to Beethoven’s complete 32 piano sonatas, the Hammerklavier was given a performance which was unforgettable – but for all the wrong reasons.

It was only moments into the performance by a pianist who will remain nameless that it became clear – and depressingly clearer as the work unfolded – that physical management of the notes was the sole aim of the performer. So involved in the notational management of the piece was this player that very little attention had been given to revealing the demon lurking behind the printed note. It remained almost totally hidden.

What we were given was a race to the end (which faltered increasingly) in purely physical terms. It was a depressing experience.

But to listen to Grigory Sokolov is to experience music making at the highest imaginable level. Remember: this is no studio recording allowing for bits and pieces of it to be recorded and recorded again until the soloist feels satisfied by that particular succession of notes. No. This is music that in the most frank and alert way brings the listener face to face with the composer.

There’s an immediacy about the playing that that makes one feel that if Beethoven himself had been present at this performance, he might well have wanted to embrace this remarkable Russian. At its most extravert, this is playing that sets the pulse racing; it is a reading of the most authoritative sort – and all the more welcome for its rarity. In this deeply probing, thoughtful reading,  listening to Sokolov becomes a journey of discovery, the playing revealing detail and insights only very infrequently encountered in other, lesser, accounts of the work,

There would be very few pianists anywhere on the planet able to match this recording which, in the most meaningful sense, is evidence of greatness. Sokolov makes the unplayable accessible. He reveals its myriad details without losing sight of its overall design as only few can, Sokolov taking the listener into the composer’s idiosyncratic world and makes it accessible, meaningful, unforgettable.

The sonata was recorded ‘live’ at a recital given by Sokolov in Salzburg.

Also on disc are Schubert’s Impromptus D899 and Three Piano Pieces D946 as well as encores by Rameau and Brahms.