Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Piano Sonata No. 20 in G major, Op. 49/2 (1796) [06:34]
Piano Sonata No. 21 in C major, Op. 53, “Waldstein” (1804) [18:41]
Piano Sonata No. 23 in F minor, Op. 57, “Appassionata” (1805) [21:46]
Piano Sonata No. 28 in A major, Op.101 (1816) [15:58]
Piano Sonata No. 30 in E major, Op. 109 (1820) [15:48]
Walter Gieseking (piano)
rec. 1940, Berlin (Op. 49/2); Berlin, 11 August 1938 (Op. 53); New York, February
1939 (Op. 57); New York, 24 February 1939 (Op. 101); Berlin, Spring 1940 (Op.
109)
NAXOS 8.112063 [78:48]
I’ve never quite been able to share the enthusiasm for historical recordings.
To my ears, the perceived “truth” of the performances – a dubious concept
in any event: the view that few performers today can stand comparison with
the finest of the past is quite false – is too often compromised by execrable
sound. But Walter Gieseking has long been one of my favourite pianists in
the music of Debussy, so I was intrigued to know how I would feel about his
Beethoven playing. The result is a triumph.
I was most apprehensive about the sound, so let me begin with that. My technical
knowledge of recorded sound restoration is virtually nil, and I haven’t heard
these performances in any other transfers. These two factors should be taken
into account when I say that it seems to me that Ward Marston has worked miracles
with these recordings. Background hiss is fairly high, but it has been most
sensitively dealt with, fading in and out, for example; also, it is maintained
between movements so as not to break the atmosphere, a nice touch. In short,
whilst you never forget you are listening to 78 rpm records, you are conscious
that they are in pristine condition and that they are not going to wear out!
The piano sound itself is clean and immediate, and is that the pianist himself
humming or groaning here and there? All this helps the listener concentrate
on the music and the playing and (almost) to forget about the sound.
One of the first things that strikes the listener about the playing in the
two named sonatas is the tempo. Gieseking plays the first movement of the
Waldstein at a cracking pace: Allegro con brio is what Beethoven
marked, and brio there is in plenty. He is consistently faster than
Schnabel (also on Naxos) in the faster movements of both sonatas, and significantly
faster than Ingrid Fliter, for example, in her superb performance of the Appassionata
on EMI. He occasionally comes adrift in rapid semiquaver runs – his fingers
running away with him – but this only underlines the individuality and humanity
of the playing. These fast passages are often accompanied by a certain wildness
of expression. The episodes in the rondo finale of the Waldstein
are a case in point, as is the closing passage of the Appassionata,
where the playing seems almost possessed.
In spite of this, and remembering other passages of quite extraordinary power,
this is far from a barnstorming view of Beethoven. On the other hand, to say
that the playing is characterised by restraint would not be true either. No,
it is more complex than that. Some, I feel sure, will find the emotional temperature
on the cool side. This comes out particularly in the two late sonatas, those
that precede and follow the mighty Hammerklavier. The Op. 101 sonata
is a strange work indeed, complete in itself, a perfect work of art, yet strangely
transitional in nature. Its first movement ambles along beautifully in this
performance, but the pianist seems anxious not to put himself between the
composer and the listener. To say the effect is flat would be to criticise,
to say the pianist “could do better”. I prefer to describe the effect as rather
muted – though even that word is too strong and too heavily loaded with value
judgement – the result of Gieseking trusting the composer and presenting the
notes, as it were, unadorned. The finale, too, an early manifestation of Beethoven’s
preoccupation with fugal writing, is driving and muscular, but without any
overt search for shallow, surface drama. Perhaps Gieseking was an early period
performer. There is certainly a classical sensibility about much of the playing
here, and which is evident above all in the clarity of passagework and texture.
Gieseking takes all the repeats in the Appassionata, including the
long one in the finale. You don’t get the exposition repeat in the little
G major sonata though, nor in the Waldstein, which is more of a pity.
There are missing repeats, too, in Op. 101. The booklet carries an interesting
essay on the pianist and on these performances by Jonathan Summers.
Just as Paul Lewis is different from Alfred Brendel in Beethoven, and just
as Schnabel is different from both of these, so is Walter Gieseking his own
man in this repertoire. Do listen to these performances. They are not mainstream,
but they are very satisfying indeed.
William Hedley
Brilliant but not barnstorming, modest but not anonymous, these five performances
are not to be missed.
see also review by Christopher Howell