Pyotr Ilyich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893)
Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23 (1875/1889) [35:48]
Edvard GRIEG (1843-1907)
Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 16 (1868) [30:45]
Simon Tedeschi (piano)
Queensland Orchestra/Richard Bonynge
rec. Studio 420, Australian Broadcasting Company, Brisbane, February 2005
ABC CLASSICS 476 8071 [66:49]
The duplication of core repertoire has become a risky proposition, commercially.
How can all these Tchaikovsky or Grieg concertos possibly claim a decent market
share? For a critic, though, or an aficionado, it isn't altogether bad. Certainly
it's easier to get the measure of a new or unfamiliar artist of potential
strengths and weaknesses, and of the artist's overall persona in a well-known
concerto than in, say, the Montsalvatge. In fact, the record industry's recent
retrenchments have arguably benefited these repertoire standards, because
the artists who choose them are really committed to them; we don't have to
sit through pro forma accounts by virtuosos whose minds and fingers
would rather be elsewhere. This is, I believe, the fourth Grieg A minor I've
reviewed here; each partnership has brought something new to the piece, so
it stays fresh.
The Australian pianist, Simon Tedeschi, has appeared in concert and recital
throughout Australia and worldwide, taking various awards and honours along
the way. Just twenty-six at the time of this recording, equipped with all
the basic technical artillery, he already projects a distinctive "take"
on these familiar concertos, making musical points with fresh attention to
details of stress and articulation.
Thus, in the Tchaikovsky, following a suitably grand introduction, Tedeschi
takes care to accent the first of the two notes in all the little slurs’
in many other renditions it's easy to hear the reverse. He maintains that
pattern audibly through the development. The clear placing of the dissonances
on the beat fosters an instability that propels the music forward. In the
coda of the movement, even through the orchestral din, the pianist manages
to project a shape, complete with off-the-beat accents, among the ungrateful
chordal figurations.
Tedeschi treats the Andantino semplice with an understated simplicity
that lets its singing quality emerge. Some will miss the usual melodic expansion
towards the end of the semiquaver chords, but it's hard to argue with the
logic of keeping them steady, as a conductor might. The Prestissimo
has a nice scherzando lightness. In the rousing finale, at the end
of the climactic statement, Tedeschi and Bonynge eschew the traditional but
unmarked acceleration into the coda; the abrupt, rather than gradual, tempo
change further ratchets up the intensity. A bit earlier, at 4:03, Tedeschi
launches the scalar passagework with a dexterity that recalls Rubinstein,
without the latter's impolite racing - on his RCA recording with Leinsdorf,
at least.
A slightly measured tempo lends the first movement of the Grieg concerto a
reflective cast. The second theme, set up with a broad rallentando,
sounds unusually somber both times around. It allows the soloist to give the
scampering rhythms some point. Note the subtle, but clear, variety of articulations
in the triplet chords at 3:47, and the thoughtful cadenza, with its fetching
diminuendo at 12:24. In the Adagio, Tedeschi and Bonynge again launch
the recap forthrightly, without the customary, almost reflexive agogics. In
the finale, the pianist favors a very clipped reading of the chorale-like
fragment at 1:21.
At the podium, Richard Bonynge seems an unlikely choice for big Romantic concertos
but his conducting did gain in energy over time, and that energy comes in
handy here. There are a few iffy moments: the little woodwind squibs at 1:54
of Tchaikovsky's finale fall way behind, though the engineers do their
best to bury them behind the piano. The opening wind attack of Grieg's finale
is tentative. A thickening of the textures in one or two passages suggests
approximate co-ordination. Otherwise, things are mostly shipshape. Bonynge,
oddly, misses some opportunities in the lyric themes. In Tchaikovsky's first
movement at 7:17, for example, the violins inflect the third theme tenderly,
but the horns sit on their after-beats, and the real elegance with which the
conductor might, long ago, have turned a similar phrase in a ballet recording
is missing. Still, his podium leadership is generally stylish. The Queensland
Symphony responds enthusiastically. Bonynge isn't afraid to unleash the brasses
at key moments and the sound reproduces with depth.
These performances, despite some flaws, should please newcomers and veteran
listeners alike.
Stephen Francis Vasta
Stephen Francis Vasta is a New York-based conductor, coach, and journalist.
see also review by Glyn
Pursglove
Despite some flaws, should please newcomers and veterans alike.