Joyce Hatto’s latest Russian disc to be issued in her
immense recording undertaking for Concert Artist harnesses an established
nineteenth century masterpiece to an early twentieth century problem
child. Rachmaninov’s First Piano Sonata caused the composer characteristic
doubt even as it was being completed – he called it "wild and interminable"
and about forty-five minutes long, interestingly adding that the idea
behind it was a study in "three contrasting types from a literary
work." The programmatic nature of the sonata wasn’t disclosed though
one knows from other works how acutely engaged he was in other literary
and visual stimuli (an apt analogue, in that respect, to the Hartmann-inspired
Pictures at an Exhibition). The 1908 revision of the First Sonata
following its premiere was extensive – 200 bars were cut and there was
significant reworking.
It has always proved a challenge for a pianist, not
least in its powerful demands and occasionally discursive material.
Joyce Hatto, as might be expected of one whose sovereignty over Russian
repertoire is so profound and pronounced, rises to these challenges
with eviscerating power, utter command and a reservoir of poetic refinement.
She is perfectly attuned to Rachmaninov’s grand flourishes, fuses poetic
gesture with technical eloquence and memorably manages to convince us
that the work’s teeming life can, in a great performance, take on unexpected
shape and thematic direction through her bravura imagination and mastery
of long term span. Thus the sonata seems infinitely less meandering
and rhetoric laden in her hands, far more structured and emotionally
compelling – indeed fissure laden – than one might have expected. This
is the kind of performance that draws one into the density and the drive
of this frequently teeming work. For all that she is a formidable technician
she is equally a deeply poetic interpreter and the symphonic-concerto
aspirations of the work are here simply swept up into the vortex of
its interior life. Because Hatto never succumbs to the temptation for
shallow display – she is careful not to force even at the most vertiginous
climaxes, though these are still powerful enough – and she ensures that
her leading line is constantly audible and alive, not subsumed into
the thicket of the textures. The sometimes prolix demands of the opening
Allegro moderato are dealt with frequently pealing virtuosity,
tempi carefully on the move; mobility and poetic insight abound. The
rippling movement of the Lento sees Hatto’s romantic tracery
at its fullest and most developed – there is sensitivity but also tenacity
in the way she delineates the line – stressing its vocal impress and
its warmth. The dramatic insistence of the concluding Allegro molto,
the weakest of the three movements in terms of length and thematic material,
is nevertheless splendidly conveyed. But so too is the reflective nostalgia,
the perfectly weighted moments of emotional reprieve before she embarks
on the furiously combustible conclusive bars. If you have encountered
Rachmaninov’s Sonata before and have found it brittle and aspiring too
implacably toward the grandiose then try this performance. Not all of
the manifest problems of the work can be solved or hidden, even in a
great performance, such as this is, but equally the work can take on
a new character and profile and stand revealed as a greater work than
one had believed it to be.
After the dramatic heroism of the sonata we have an
unusually introspective and complex view of Pictures at an Exhibition.
Hatto announces her priorities at the outset in the first promenade
– deliberate, "cautious" as if yet unsure of the emotional
direction of the music, exploring melody and tonal implications with
almost dispassionate concern; not jaunty at all – on the contrary this
promenade exemplifies the rise and fall, the depth and height of sonority
and a gathering weight of utterance leading onto the deliberate grotesquerie
of Gnomus, which she explores with decisive characterisation.
The Old Castle is full of insinuating interiority, Hatto exposing
the nagging left hand with excellently weighted coldness, and the tracery
of Les Tuileries viciously contrasted with the thick chords and
implacable advance of Bydlo. The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks is
the better for not being hard driven and Limoges is full of proto-Gershwinian
chatter in this performance. In the Catacombs she summons up
reserves of visceral chill, Baba-Yaga is fearsome and the ending
not cloaked in a halo of pedal (as it sometimes can be) and the Great
Gate of Kiev gathers itself in tumultuous grandeur, the final
peroration still observing dynamic gradation.
This is a frequently spellbindingly fine disc and it
deserves wide currency. In terms of production values and performance
this is in the alpha league.
Jonathan Woolf
MusicWeb
can offer the complete Concert
Artist catalogue
Joyce Hatto (Piano)