Franz SCHUBERT (1770-1827)
Sonata No. 21 in B flat major D.960 (1828) [41:55]
Franz LISZT (1811-1886)
Piano transcriptions of songs by Schubert
Der Müller und der bach [5:01]
Sei mir gegrüsst [4:12]
Frühlingsglaube [3:29]
Auf dem Wasser zu singen [4:44]
Rian de Waal (piano)
rec. 22 December 2010, ‘De Concertboerderij’, Valthermond, The
Netherlands
VALTHERMOND RECORDINGS [59:45]
I didn’t know him at all personally, but Rian de Waal is still greatly
missed as a colleague at my place of work at The Hague’s Royal Conservatoire.
He passed away on 25 May 2011 and I signed the memorial book, but am now rather
pleased to be able to pay a slightly more substantial tribute by way of reviewing
his last recording, which also happens to be of Schubert’s final great
piano sonata D.960.
When you open the gatefold of this nicely and simply presented CD you are
met by De Waal’s bold statement, Take your time with Schubert.
The Sonata No. 21 in B flat major D.960 is certainly a work to which
this proclamation is applicable, with that vast first movement which De Waal
brings in at twenty minutes almost to the second, and the timeless Andante
sostenuto, in which the world can seem to stop spinning on its axis, or
at the very least slow down for a better look at how things are. Valery Afanassiev
is slower and gazes closer to infinity in his recording on the ECM label,
but his view for that live Lockenhaus performance is an extreme which I will
accept goes beyond what many might find acceptable. De Waal keeps hold of
the singing line, and holds that balance between turning the accompaniment
figures into repetitive features which end up disturbing a meditation, and
making those rhythms into more of a funeral march than they should be. It
could have been a tad slower for me, but that’s personal taste; the
proportions between the opening and close and the more animated central section
seems perfect.
This animated character relates directly to the Scherzo in this interpretation,
something I hadn’t picked up on so much in the past. Balance, poise,
call it what you will but this is tremendously well considered playing, with
accents and harmonic nuances placed to perfection. The final Allegro ma
non troppo forms a unifying and consolatory movement in this interpretation,
until the minor turbulence kicks in at 2:23 and the rug is pulled out from
under our feet. This may not be the wildest of performances but packs a punch
at all of the significant points, building to passages of symphonic stature
in the fourth minute. The penultimate bars before the final coda are played
with genuine poignancy, a really regretful departure.
Rian de Waal’s own booklet notes tell of how, when Schubert was all
but forgotten, it was Franz Liszt’s performances of song transcriptions
in Vienna which revived interest in his work. You can hear why this would
have been the case with these performances, which bring out both Schubert’s
disarming and deceptively simple melodic lines as well as the easy technical
grace with which Liszt supplemented the originals to create satisfyingly stand-alone
pianistic works.
Daan van Aalst’s excellent SACD recording made at Rian de Waal’s
own recording location, a converted farm in Valthermond, deserves a mention
here. Another colleague in The Hague, he is also responsible for some crack
engineering on releases with Rachel
Podger and others, and his work here creates a warmly expressive piano
sound - colourful and responsive, and with a good impression of the scale
of the location. Amongst the finest legacies a musician can hope to leave
are recordings which will stand as a testament for the future, and this Schubert,
Schubert/Liszt programme is one of the finest piano performances I’ve
come across for many a year. This has nothing to do with sentimental association
or the awareness that people I know are likely to read my review - I’ll
stand by my comments in any arena.
I will also stand by my opinion that the perfect recording of Schubert’s
last sonata has yet to be made, and probably never will be. If I have any
reservations about this particular recording it is the sense of neatness,
of things being put right, or being placed in their correct places and order
in the world. This does wonders for the structure of the work as a whole,
and reinforces the value of the final two movements against the sheer unfathomable
genius of the first two. I realise I haven’t mentioned the opening Molto
moderato a great deal, and the reason is that there is very little to
fault in Rian de Waal’s interpretation or performance. He is two minutes
shorter than Afanassiev, but around two minutes longer than Radu Lupu in his
Decca
recording, which is not a particular favourite but which does point out
a sense of real and present danger which can be expressed in this music. What
I miss here is Schubert’s human fallibility and his voice of bloody-minded
defiance. You may or may not accept visionary qualities in this work, but
these can be as much in the ear of the beholder as that of the performer.
This marvellous performance is of Schubert the controlled master craftsman,
rather than Franz the uncertain genius and secret hell-raiser.
Dominy Clements
A unique and valuable testament.