This set was originally issued as a centenary tribute
to Eduard Erdmann (1896-1958) and has since been followed by two more.
Volume II (TAH 218/9) is dedicated entirely to Schubert and Volume III
(TAH 386/7) has works by Mozart, Schumann and Liszt as well as more
Schubert and a further version of the third Beethoven concerto, this
time from 1949 with Hans Müller-Kray. Erdmann as a composer can
be heard on Danacord DACOCD 389, where Sontraud Speidel plays a Fox-Trot
and a Fugue as part of the 1999 Husum Piano Festival. There also seems
to be a recording of his Piano Concerto op. 15 (1929) by Jascha Nemtsov
and the Philharmonia Hungarica under Isael Yinon but I haven’t been
able to trace further details.
‘Yes, but who was he?’ you will be asking by now, and
I won’t pretend the name was anything but new to me either. If you look
up Erdmann in the Internet you will find more references, at least in
English sites, to his great-uncle Johann Eduard, who was a philosopher
well-known enough for some of his works to have been translated into
English, and Eduard himself was known as the "pianist-philosopher".
His cultural interests were certainly wide and he had amassed a library
of some 12,000 books by the time of his death. Initially he aimed to
be a composer and he continued to compose for most of his life. A short
work list is to be found in the booklet, from which it can be seen that
such artists as Kulenkampff, Nikisch, Abendroth and Schmidt-Isserstedt
performed his music, which includes four symphonies. His compositions
were banned by the Nazi regime in 1935 and he also relinquished his
teaching post at the Cologne Conservatory for political reasons. However,
as can be seen from the dates and locations above, his pianistic career
continued to some extent during this time, to be resumed more fully
after 1946. His first post-war recital was dedicated to composers who
had been banned by the 3rd Reich.
The booklet speaks of Erdmann’s creative relationship
with music, but also of his reverential respect for the composers’ indications.
It does not really explain why he rather than, say, Schnabel or Fischer,
should have been known as the "pianist-philosopher" but a
booklet note, even a useful and informative one (which this is) would
hardly have the space to develop this argument. The performances themselves
seem to suggest not so much a "creative" approach as an intimate
knowledge, undemonstratively expressed, of what the music is about.
You wouldn’t expect a 1948 performance of Handel on
the piano to be entirely satisfactory to modern ears and I daresay British
listeners even then would have expected something more forthright and
vigorous. This is Georg Friedrich Händel rather than George Frideric
Handel, serious-minded and skilled in counterpoint. We get exactly what
is written: the counterpoint is clear, the tempi are sensible (with
an occasional tendency to move ahead nervously), all repeats are made,
ornaments are limited to the very few actually in the score. The sound
is well-rounded and based on a singing legato. No dynamic variations
are indicated by Handel so none are made. You will think my praise is
developing a sarcastic tone by now since any college student today knows
enough about baroque performance practice to tell you that this might
be what Handel wrote but it is not what he meant. Well, only partly.
The modern obsession with added ornaments, decorated repeats, dotted
rhythms and exasperated rubato may be nominally a revival of contemporary
baroque practice, but it also contains the seeds of a massively condescending
attitude to these poor old composers whose work just isn’t worth hearing
as it stands. So just once in a while, let us go to Erdmann for a demonstration
that if you just play what Handel wrote, fluently and well, the music
is intrinsically good enough to be heard unadorned.
The Beethoven Sonata reveals certain chinks in his
pianistic armoury, catching Cortot-like crabs here and there. This doesn’t
worry me, but the chugging nature of the accompanying figures in the
slow movement does and I cannot honestly say I found much illumination
here. In the concerto we can hear two honest musicians putting aside
their personal egos and just concentrating on playing the score simply
and well. No great illumination, perhaps, but a certain satisfaction.
What I most appreciated is the way in which the unflamboyant performance
of the first movement cadenza succeeds in absorbing it into the stream
of the music rather than standing out as something on its own.
A certain pallor to the sound is a common feature of
the first CD even if the recordings cover a period of 18 years. The
1943 recordings under Rosbaud are more strident (a bit like film soundtracks
from the same period) but seem to have more life. Or is this Rosbaud’s
contribution? It is still possible to appreciate today the sheer pleasure
with which the two musicians take up a piece by Schumann which is often
held to be less than his best and by their evident faith in it make
it shine as it seldom has since. One would say the same of the Debussy,
with the proviso that the orchestra is a poor one. Even so, it is a
fascinating document. No one would say the piece sounds like Grieg (the
charge usually made against this early work); and by painting it in
strong rather than evanescent colours the performance brings it surprisingly
close to the world of Zemlinsky or Schreker.
Mussorgsky’s "Pictures" are a surprising
choice for a "pianist-philosopher". The piano version was
still very rare indeed and I suppose he thought people ought to have
the chance to hear it (these are all radio broadcasts). I almost wish
he hadn’t. Catching crabs is fine if you do it with the divine flair
of a Cortot but this is a heavy-fisted mess from the beginning. You
can hear in the first "Promenade" his tendency to hurry when
in difficulty (the presence of a conductor seems to steady him in the
pieces with orchestra) and all the brilliant numbers ("Tuileries",
"Ballet of the Chicks", "Limoges", "The Hut
on Fowl’s Legs") are seriously under-characterised. Plainly he
just wasn’t up to the task. And just to put the tin lid on it, a string
breaks fairly early on and, as these things are wont to do, slithers
around on top of the other strings, twanging and jangling in the heavy
passages with all the musicality of a cheap alarm clock. It must have
been hell for him to get through to the end and I cannot imagine why
anybody thought Erdmann’s reputation would have been served by resurrecting
this performance.
Before making a final judgement on this pianist I would
like to hear the other volumes in this series. I have a hunch that his
simple, unegotistical dedication could have made an important contribution
to the cause of Schubert’s sonatas, which he championed when even Schnabel
and Fischer were very selective about them. I would also like to hear
some of his compositions. I have the idea that he made a considerable
contribution to German cultural life, but that the present album is
not enough, on its own, to make it clear to us what that contribution
was.
Christopher Howell
Eduard Erdmann (pianoforte)
