One of the peculiarities of Schubert’s piano music is that from
a technical point of view a competent amateur pianist would be
able to manage most of it. The complex melody and accompaniment
figures of Chopin, the pyrotechnics of Liszt, even the massive
physical challenge of much of Brahms and Beethoven, little of
all this is to be found in Schubert. When looked at on the page
the writing seems simple, too, sometimes even primitive. Long
passages of melody in octaves in the right hand and triplet accompaniment
in the left: what could be simpler? And yet the greatest pianists
have tackled these works and not all of them have succeeded. Why
not?
The fact is that Schubert’s piano music, perhaps more than almost
any other composer’s, needs very considerable advocacy if it is
to be convincing. The music is often repetitive, and development
sometimes almost perfunctory. There is little in the way of dramatic
contrast, and the very simplicity of the writing can lead, in
the wrong hands, to monotony.
It’s rather depressing to turn out a predictable review, but in
the face of competition from the finest of those who have recorded
these works, none of the pianists on this double CD has the charisma
necessary to bring them to life. That is not to say that they
do not play well. On the contrary, their playing is, for the most
part, technically flawless, but they don’t manage to bring out
what is to be found, as it were, beyond the notes. The first impromptu
of the D899 (Op. 90) set is a good example of what I mean. It
is highly repetitive in content, the main theme returning regularly
and with relatively little in the way of variation. Read from
the page there seems to be a paucity of invention here for a piece
lasting almost ten minutes, even if we acknowledge the beauty
of the main theme. However, with a major advocate the piece is
totally convincing. Brendel, for example, and especially Radu
Lupu, manage to vary this piece to a remarkable degree, by way
of dynamics, subtle ways of turning a phrase, the voicing of chords
and so on, in such a way that the ear is led onward and never
tires. The Dutch pianist Martijn van den Hoek, excellent player
though he is, cannot match this at all, and when the music turns
to the exquisite, but short-lived second idea there is sadly little
of the fantasy and magical atmosphere both of the other pianists
create. The second impromptu, in E flat major, is totally different
in style, but the same weaknesses are in evidence. Van den Hoek’s
left hand accompaniment to the tumbling right hand scale passages
is prosaic and unvaried, whereas Lupu makes something significant
of it. The music of the contrasting section is aghast, so close
to catastrophe and collapse, but little of this comes out in this
performance. The final impromptus of this and of the D935 (Op.
142) set are perhaps the most successful, but even here the playing
tends to be pale and the headlong final descending scale of the
fourth impromptu of the second set lacks ferocity and wildness.
The other two pianists on the set seem to manage these problems
a little better. Folke Nauta, admittedly, has slightly less of
a challenge, as the individual pieces of the Moments Musicaux
are shorter so that establishing and maintaining the mood are
correspondingly easier. Even so, it is the accompanying left hand
figures, in the second piece for example, which show a lack of
flair and imagination though there’s no denying that the gentle
melancholy of the piece is well established. The dance like rhythms
in the short third piece are nicely pointed, however, though the
rapid Bach-like figurations of the fourth are less convincing.
The wistful sixth piece is well managed, apart from a certain
hardness in the tone in fortes.
Pieter van Winkel chooses to play the first of the D946 pieces
as first published, in an edition prepared by Brahms after Schubert’s
death, and which includes the lengthy second, slow interlude which
Schubert had crossed out of his manuscript. This makes for a long
piece, over thirteen minutes, even though van Winkel does not
play all the repeats. All the same, this is perhaps the most imaginative
playing on the set, though he is less successful in the placid
parts of the second piece where the sheer simplicity of the music
defeats him. The same comment might be applied to the third piece,
and here, sad to say, even the more robust passages seem heavy-handed
compared to the finest readings.
These discs are of course very cheap, the recorded sound is excellent
and the accompanying notes are intelligent and informative. They
give a useful selection of Schubert’s piano works outside the
sonatas. But anyone coming new to this repertoire via these performances
will miss out on most of what the music is about, and might even
find much of it boring, a desperate thought. Schubert’s music
is a quite extraordinary synthesis of sunny optimism and all that
is hidden in the darkest corners of the human soul, expressed
in music of deceptive simplicity with a wisdom beyond his years.
So whilst we amateur pianists can make a stab at the notes, and
professionals such as the three recorded here can begin to show
us the way to the truth, it takes something like genius to realise
much of what is really there. It is for this reason that relying
on this set would be false economy, all the more so since there
are magnificent performances available at less than full price.
Brendel has recorded all of this repertoire and is available in
cheaper reissues; he has the stature to persuade us of the greatness
of this music. Lupu and Perahia are magnificent in the Impromptus,
and I’d like to recommend a newly released disc of the Klavierstücke
(for which I wrote the booklet notes) on Concert Artist, played
with customary mastery and imagination by Joyce Hatto.
William Hedley
Martijn van den Hoek,
piano (Impromptus); Folke Nauta, piano (Moments Musicaux); Pieter van Winkel,
piano (Klavierstücke)