We’ve come across Eugeniusz Knapik before on these pages, but
as a composer rather than a pianist (see review).
According to Wikipedia he is currently professor and director
of composition at Katowice Academy of Music. The history of
this recording is worth repeating. Knapik had heard John Ogdon
perform the Vingt regards at the 1969 Warsaw Autumn
festival, and the experience had a huge impact. He was the first
Polish pianist to perform the work in its entirety, and this
recording was made after a number of live concerts. The original
planned release in 1981 was cancelled after martial law was
imposed in Poland, and the recording has languished in the Polish
Radio archives until now.
There is no reason this shouldn’t be a top notch recording even
considering its vintage, but it’s worth pointing out that this
is indeed a superb production. The signal is cut fairly softly
so you’ll find yourself bumping up the volume somewhat, but
the analogue-taped piano sound is full, rich and warmly detailed,
and tape hiss is not an issue.
Top choice in this piece has for some time now been Pierre-Laurent
Aimard on the Teldec label. While he gives this music plenty
of space to create its spells of wonder, natural spectacle and
visionary terrors and comes in at around 116 minutes, Knapik
is even more expansive in several movements, making for a total
of approximately 130. This is by no means the longest rendering
of this work, with Håkon Austbø on Naxos nearer 133 minutes
for example, but if you are used to more urgent readings there
are several moments at which Knapik will make you sit up and
take notice, or should that be; spread out and become transported
to places beyond.
Such transports are there from the outset, with a Regard
du Père which lays out a verdant carpet of acceptant blessing,
the power of the Father present but restrained in those darker
harmonies. Regard de l’Etoile shoots and sparkles with
firework brilliance against the grimmer shadow of the cross,
while the insistently repeating elements of L’Echange
build with remarkable power. One of the most beautiful movements,
Regard de la Vierge is played with stunning poetry,
but not without a sense of the human – a hint of impatience
perhaps? The mysterious depths open into Regard du Fils
sur le Fils, where the sounds of nature heighten a profound
sense of nocturnal infinity.
…and so the descriptions can continue, both as a narrative of
the music itself, but more intended to give an impression of
how Eugeniusz Knapik brings Messiaen’s remarkable piano ‘symphony’
to life. You sense a genuine belief in the religious conviction
behind the notes, with the technical ability to communicate
this at every stage on the journey. Take the relative simplicity
of the Regard de la Croix, where there is some intangible
feel in the way the octave lines are placed, some colour in
the tone by with they are articulated, somehow conveying an
embrace. The initial gentle blessing of the Première communion
de la Vierge is played with utmost tenderness by Eugeniusz
Knapik, with rhythmic urgency and technical brilliance in the
faster passages further on, and followed by a strikingly forceful
La Parole toute-puissante, which extends into the tumultuous
opening of the Noël. Knapik’s dynamic layering and
contrasts are as good as any I have heard. His poetic touch
with Messiaen’s gentler moments are truly affecting. This is
affirmed by the timeless kiss, Le baiser de l’Enfant-Jésus,
with which Knapik makes us all fall in love with the whole divine
aura of this creation.
Durations may be longer than many in this Vingt Regards,
but there is no sense in which time is being stretched beyond
credibility, or that Eugeniusz Knapik is becoming self-indulgent.
All of the decisions with regard to the performance are utterly
convincing as far as I’m concerned, and Knapik’s technical prowess
is a further imprimatur, with only a very occasional moment
in the final dramatic Regard de l’Eglise d’amour where
one senses him being stretched. There are numerous recordings
of this work now, but Knapik’s achievement is all the more remarkable
for being only the eighth ever, according to the booklet. I’ve
heard many excellent recordings, including Joanna MacGregor’s
fairly romantic view of the work (see review),
and Paul
Kim’s highly impressive account, but rarely have I heard
the intent behind the music revealed in quite such a potent
fashion. Eugeniusz Knapik is not the only choice, but if you
want to get close to Messiaen’s vision of the infinite wonders
of this religious message then you may find this opens the door
wider than you might have anticipated possible.
Dominy Clements
Eugeniusz Knapik (piano)
