Louis Demetrius Alvanis is doing sterling work for the Meridian
label, and has numerous releases to his name. The Chopin solo
piano sonatas are frequently coupled with other flotsam rather
than gathered together on one disc, and with the less frequently
recorded Sonata No.1 this is a useful programme.
Meridian have ‘A Natural Sound Recording’ approach and marketing
hook, but the recording of this disc is one hurdle some listeners
will have to leap before considering purchase. I searched high
and low, but other than mention of the Steinway name, I could
gain no clues from the disc packaging as to where this recording
was made. The piano sound is very good, and from my own point
of view I have few complaints, but it has to be said that the
acoustic here is somewhat swimmy. The effect of this varies
– I found it rather hard to live with on the car stereo, less
disturbing over headphones. If you live in a palatial space
with marble floors the combined echoes may make this less than
favourable, but as a ‘concert hall’ kind of recording it can
be quite exhilarating. You’ll need to make up your own mind,
but have a listen first if you can.
The best known Chopin sonatas are numbers 2 and 3, and my reference
here is Evgeny
Kissin on RCA. His playing is by no means all things to
all people, but if you want a passionately expressed view by
which to compare others then his is pretty emphatic. The Sonata
No.2 opens with one of those highly dramatic statements,
and there’s plenty of ‘symphonic’ piano writing to get your
teeth into. Alvanis’ contrast between this and the beautifully
lyrical second section isn’t quite as wide as with Kissin, but
everything is nicely phrased and punchy enough. Where Kissin
is stronger is in his sense of a kind of vocal narrative – expressing
the sheer melodrama in the music. The remarkable modulations
later on in the movement are more muddled and less immediate
with Alvanis, still with plenty of power and texture, but with
less ‘wow’ factor leaping from the composer’s imagination as
much as from the piano. This dramatic flavour is taken further
in the Scherzo, which again has plenty of weight and
contrast from Alvanis, but with Kissin’s wider dynamics the
music reaches further beyond the salon walls, at times approaching
a kind of cinematic mad genius feel. Alvanis’ warmth of lyricism
later on is highly atmospheric, more nostalgic than extrovert
and the more appealing for that. The famous Marche Funèbre
is one of those movements which can run the risk of becoming
too over-laden with symbolic feeling, and Alvanis gets the balance
right in my view, moving the pace along and not stopping to
pick grief-blackened lilies on the way. Kissin has a tendency
to explode in gestures of Greek tragedy which can have its own
power, but wears a little heavy after a few hearings. The wonderful
central melody can be seen as a kind of ecstatic arrival in
heaven, as with Kissin, or a consoling embrace from a close
friend or family member, as with Alvanis. The remarkable Finale
is done by both pianists in almost exactly 1:30, Alvanis
almost secretive with those runs, Kissin pedalling them into
a Turneresque storm scene.
The Sonata No.3 is thematically more coherent as a piece,
and as Alvanis point out in his well written notes, a product
of his most mature style. His melodic expression is beautifully
turned, with nicely proportioned rubato and a fine sense of
poise and colour in both the upper voice and accompaniments.
Kissin’s recording wins in clarity, which makes a difference
in some of those remarkable pedalling effects in the first minute,
after the opening theme statement. This extended movement is
like a vast ornate carpet of recurring patterns and an amazing
variety of shapes and forms. Kissin has a tendency to milk some
of these for all they’re worth, virtually stopping at times.
Alvanis has a greater sense of continuity and connectedness,
his more constant forward momentum allowing time for reflection,
but without bringing us to disorientating red traffic lights
and difficult junctions. Another one of those finger-busting
etude-like gestures, the opening of the Scherzo is one
of those moments all good pianists must relish. Alvanis’ technique
is well up to all this, and I also prefer his more sober presentation
of the second section, another moment where Kissin has a tendency
to muse and wander. Sensitive to the relationship the Largo
movement has to Chopin’s friend Vincenzo Bellini, Alvanis
is beautifully lyrical, and more believably singable than Kissin’s
more pianistic line. This is hard to define, but at a basic
level Alvanis plays the melody more softly, integrating it more
effectively with the warm bed of harmonies which accompany.
The section about 3.00 in is also quite magical; unlike Kissin,
Alvanis avoiding pointing out melodic notes which aren’t really
there. The Finale is another grand statement which has
both plenty of pianistic fireworks and compositional marvels
to offer, and I have no complaints about Alvanis here. He avoids
making the more banal ‘rumpty-pumpty’ moments sound crass and
is pretty convincing throughout. Kissin and Alvanis differ a
little in tempi, the former shaving about 20 seconds from Alvanis’
time, the latter however not sounding at all relaxed and building
a fair amount of excitement, the only marginal problems being
a piano which sounds as if re-tuning in the mid-upper range
was on the cards by this stage, and the rather milky acoustic,
which the sheer amount of notes does penetrate, but sometimes
requires a little ‘through’ listening.
Not to short-change the Sonata No.1, but while this student
work has plenty of fine features it is somewhat dwarfed by the
other two pieces. It serves as a nice warm-up to the other sonatas,
and allows the ear to become accustomed to the sonic picture.
Alvanis is sensitive to the kaleidoscope of influences Chopin
was absorbing into his compositional work in this period, and
his clear talent and facility for writing for his own instrument
comes through with no holds barred. Funnily enough, it is only
in the presto Finale of this sonata that I had the feeling
that Alvanis was being pushed in any technical sense – Chopin’s
tough pianistic writing making maximum demands with very little
let-up at high speed.
Despite the wealth of riches when it comes to resonance in the
recording, this is a very fine Chopin disc and can hold its
own amongst the best. The classic recordings of the two great
sonatas by Martha Argerich and Maurizio Pollini, both on Deutsche
Grammophon, still hold a pre-eminent place. These and Artur
Rubinstein’s great 1960s RCA recording will always have a special
place, and Vladimir Ashkenazy’s Decca disc of all three sonatas
as the direct competition for this programme is also pretty
hard to beat. Fans of this music who just can’t get enough will
find a good deal to enjoy here, and even though it may not quite
be that last word in Chopin’s three piano sonatas it is most
certainly a worthwhile contribution.
Dominy Clements
Louis Demetrius Alvanis (piano) 
