Andreas 
                Staier plays these late Schubert sonatas on an 1825 Johann Fritz 
                fortepiano (the recordings have previously been available on Teldec 
                Das Alte Werk 0630 13143-2, a two-disc set which also included 
                the great D960). They now appear on a mid-price issue, representing 
                a considerable bargain. Purely from a historical performance viewpoint, 
                there is much of interest here: Staier plays on an 1825 Johann 
                Fritz four-pedalled fortepiano. In doing so, he immediately comes 
                into competition with Paul Badura-Skoda (on Arcana A17, whose 
                chosen instrument is an 1846 J. M. Schweighofer Viennese piano). 
                If we widen the field to include the modern concert grand, of 
                course Mitsuko Uchida on Philips appears as a leading contender 
                (alas not at this price, though). Imogen Cooper is no stranger 
                to these pieces, either, and her recent concert performances have 
                attested to her affinity to Schubert’s keyboard world.  
              
 
              
Right 
                from the opening of the C minor (D958), Staier finds natural flow 
                and demonstrates an enviable sensitivity to Schubert’s harmonic 
                progressions while remaining true to the Beethovenian elements 
                contained within the notes. Accents and dynamics are exciting, 
                the dramatic schema vividly projected (Badura-Skoda is more thoughtful, 
                his rhythms not quite as alive). Staier’s Adagio is, again, presented 
                in the most natural of fashions, and is all the more touching 
                for it. Only the hesitations before the block chords (c2’45 in) 
                do not come across as entirely convincing.  
              
 
              
The 
                lively speed for the finale does not, commendably, lead to any 
                muddying of textures (the very nature of the instrument helps 
                here). His handling of the passage around 3’15, a cantabile 
                right hand against a rustling left is pure delight – after hearing 
                Staier, Badura-Skoda in this movement seems rather disjunct and 
                rough and ready.  
              
 
              
Imogen 
                Cooper gave the last live performance of D959 I heard (at the 
                Wigmore Hall in July). Staier sets out to give a robust account 
                – he is almost brutal before a defining feature of this sonata’s 
                opening, the ‘church cadence’. Despite his determination, though, 
                some contrapuntal passages do emerge as laboured. His Andantino 
                lacks Cooper’s Winterreise-like sense of stasis, although 
                he does to an extent redeem himself with the famous manic outburst 
                (immediately before the recitative-like passage, the fortepiano 
                sounds as if it will burst!). Similarly, it is entirely characteristic 
                of Staier’s account that the Scherzo, while appearing capricious 
                and cheeky, can also at times verge on the violent.  
              
 
              
Alas, 
                it is only in the finale that Staier can in any real way be said 
                to disappoint. This movement (marked Allegretto) requires the 
                calm unfolding of Cooper or Uchida. Staier is lumpy in his presentation 
                of the initial theme and he thumps later on (around 5’20). This 
                emerges as a good but not elevating presentation of a finale that 
                can be so much more and as if to confirm this, the coda verges 
                on the breathless.  
              
 
              
Very 
                much a disc worth hearing, then, and one that will surely complement 
                some treasured modern instrument performances of these works. 
                 
              
 
              
Colin 
                Clarke