The American composer Charles Griffes, much influenced by French impressionism,
has a remarkably fresh and individual ‘voice’. I first heard his music
– including
The Pleasure Dome of Kubla Khan – on a fine Naxos
disc that Rob Barnett welcomed back in 2004 (
review).
Next it was the turn of EMI’s American Classics series, with Peter Lawson’s
performance of the
Piano Sonata (
review).
As for the pianist Garrick Ohlsson, featured in this new release, I
found his Granados CD ‘long on technique but a little short on temperament’
(
review).
That said, he’s still a commanding keyboard presence, and that makes
him an ideal ‘fit’ for the piano-savvy team at Hyperion.
I’ve yet to mention Michael Lewin, who has recorded two volumes of Griffes’
piano music for Naxos, the first of which also met with Rob’s approval
(review).
A most rewarding collection – sometimes lacking in subtlety and surprise
– it’s the obvious rival to Ohlsson; indeed, even the recording is quite
good, although it would have to be nothing less than outstanding to
compete with Hyperion’s accomplishments in this field.
That’s amply demonstrated by the
Three Tone-Pictures, in which
Ohlsson’s finely graded dynamics and miraculous touch are married to
sound of exceptional clarity and realism. The colour washes of this
triptych – now cool and aqueous, now murkily nocturnal – are pure, evanescent
Debussy; both Lewin and Ohlsson are persuasive here, with the latter
just edging ahead with a whirling account of
The Night Winds.
I suspect some listeners may prefer the diamond-like glitter of Lewin’s
recording to the warmer and tonally more sophisticated Ohlsson, but
as performances I find both men to be in their element here.
Lewin doesn’t include the three
Fantasy Pieces –
Barcarolle,
Notturno and
Scherzo – but instead he offers a world-premiere
recording of Offenbach’s more famous rolling bark. It’s so gently done,
too. Back to the
Fantasy Pieces, where Ohlsson finds a hidden
vein of poetry and a seamless line. Rhythmically he’s incredibly supple,
notably in the deck-tilting
Barcarolle, and he builds the most
thrilling climaxes as well. What a gorgeous piano sound, and how powerful
the propelling bass. Without wishing to devalue Lewin’s fine pianism
I could easily imagine his CD playing in the background while I do other
things, but Ohlsson’s performances are far too complex and compelling
for that. There’s a marvellous distillation of mood in
Notturno,
where Ohlsson brings a gossamer lightness to those rippling figures.
As for the
Scherzo it’s dervish-like in its swirl and intensity,
and one senses genuine delight in the playing.
In the
Roman Sketches Ohlsson makes light work of the dazzling,
fan-tailed writing of
The White Peacock – what a wealth of
nuance and detail he finds here – and the ambiguous harmonies of
Nightfall.
Lewin is more forensic – slightly detached, even – but for all that
his sketches are impressively executed. Only at dynamic extremes does
the Naxos sound seem a little hard; otherwise it’s more than up to the
task. That said, Lewin’s Lisztian fountain plays and plashes with the
best of them, yielding only to Ohlsson in the last degree of refinement
and colour.
Ohlsson’s
Piano Sonata certainly benefits from the extra bass
weight of his recording, which gives the music a brooding ballast –
especially in the
Molto tranquillo – that you won’t hear in
Lawson or Lewin. The real clincher, though, is Ohlsson’s probing pianism,
which seeks to illuminate every last corner of this highly compact score.
In the end the real victor is Griffes, whose musical prowess is laid
out as never before. Indeed, hearing this piece one realises Griffes
isn’t so much a might-have-been – he died so young – as a most-definitely-was.
Clear blue water opens up between Ohlsson and Lewin at this juncture,
as the latter’s version of the
Piano Sonata is too relentless
for my tastes. The shallower recording doesn’t help, and the extreme
treble is Inclined to be a little fierce. I did warm to Lewin’s
Winter
Landscape – its cool tones and clear outlines have a starkness
that suits the piece rather well – but one only has to hear Ohlsson
to realise there’s an inner landscape too. In
De profundis
the latter is infinitely more inward as well, and there’s a range of
feeling here – a vulnerability, perhaps – that Lewin can’t match.
Ohlsson rounds off with the three
Preludes, which blend the
softest brush strokes with delicate points of colour. Enigmatic, aphoristic
and a perfect coda to this illuminating collection. The quality package
is enhanced by detailed and very readable liner-notes by Stephen Siek,
an authority on American music.
Hugely commanding and authoritative; a landmark in every way.
Dan Morgan
http://twitter.com/mahlerei
