Wikipedia has the quote, “Gourari is regarded as a non-conformist.
Her playing has some kind of mysticism, but is most notably
very accurate.” Well thank heavens for that. This is Anna
Gourari’s debut for ECM and a very fine recording it is
too, presented as a set of Canto Oscuro or ‘dark
songs’, and this is indeed a full-fat recital which will
make you think again about works both familiar and less so.
J.S. Bach’s chorale prelude Ich ruf zu Dir, Herr Jesu
Christ is moving in almost any context, but Busoni’s
added pianistic depths are applied with such poetic restraint
in this recording that we are on our knees and praying at full
faith straight away. This is the kind of atmospheric, romantic
Bach which we’ve learned not to love too much of late,
but I have to admit a weakness for this kind of treatment, and
I admire Anna Gourari’s gorgeously gentle touch, which
sets us up for the rest of the programme… and heightens
the shock as we are jumped out of our reverie through the explosive
opening of Sofia Gubaidulina’s Chaconne. This is
by no means as scary as some contemporary pieces for piano,
with the spirit of Bach very much present. Gourari takes her
time with this piece, making it a good 11:45 when compared to
the more usual 8:40 brought to us by Béatrice Rauchs
on BIS-CD-853. The added weight given to the piece tells in
features such as the repeated notes and ostinato, which in no
way dance as they do in Rauchs’ performance. This is presumably
part of the ‘dark’ aspect of this recital’s
concept, and turns the Chaconne into something more symphonic
than we’ve come across before. This is a powerful interpretation
and, like many of the other performances here, sweeps away preconceptions
about how certain pieces should normally ‘go’, and
this is no bad thing.
I last came across Hindemith’s “1922” -
Suite für Klavier in Boris Berezovsky’s big box
from Teldec (see review). Berezovsky doesn’t pull any punches,
but if anything Gourari is more extreme, for instance pulling
the Shimmy into a beefy 3:42 to Berezovsky’s 2:50.
You’d be forgiven for not recognising it as the same piece,
but Gourari knows what she’s doing - exploring Hindemith’s
grim ironies with a more artful touch, and giving the quicksilver
changes of mood and pace a chance to speak. Her dance can be
George Grosz grotesque, but this is a powerfully argued and
valid point of view. Similar things can be said about the Nachtstück
movement, which at times approaches a kind of Varklärte
Nacht passion in this recording. Hindemith’s Suite
has more often than not been deposited in the amusing ‘jazz
influenced’ category, but Anna Gourari shakes us out of
such superficial labelling and gives us the full drama and at
times even horror in the work.
The final three tracks are more Bach, with deep shadows cast
by the sonorities of Nun komm der Heiden Heiland in another
Busoni arrangement. His version of the Chaconne from
the BWV 1004 violin Partita is probably the best known
one for piano. At 16:20, Gourari’s reading is on the longer
side of average but not by much - there are no shocking extremes
or quirks in operation here, just a very satisfying and involving
performance of a timeless masterpiece. Gourari’s restraint
is in evidence all over the place here, and even where the temperature
rises she maintains transparency and a feeling of power in reserve
- grown-up Bach rather than with everything thrown into the
pot all at once.
A Russian pianist’s Bach programme wouldn’t be complete
without something from Alexander Siloti, and his transcription
of the Prelude in B minor concludes this superb recording
in a mood of meditative reflection. This is a very well-considered
and beautifully executed recital, and one which deserves a place
in any collection. Romantic Bach and the challenging worlds
of two more or less contemporary masters provide a stimulus
rather than a reason to shy away, and this ‘dark song’
is one which resonates in the mind and haunts long after the
sounds have stopped.
Dominy Clements
Anna Gourari (piano) 