Jura Margulis’ Schubert recital is exciting because we don’t often get to
review a new musical instrument. That is what Margulis built for this album.
The idea: fortepianos in the time of Beethoven and Schubert had a strong
mute (“sordino”) pedal, so why not add one to a modern grand piano? The
typical concert grand today has a mute that’s next to useless. You might
disagree if you haven’t heard a Conrad Graf piano from the 1830s, the muted
version of which sounds like a totally different instrument. Margulis
correctly says, in the booklet, that the sordino on historical keyboards is
“beautiful, sonorous, and delicate”, and “pianos in the early
19
th century … whispered much softer.”
Rather than exploit this capability with truly great recordings on
original instruments, like
Penelope Crawford, Alexei Lubimov (Schubert
impromptus), and
Andreas Staier have done, Margulis was inspired
to build a modern piano with such a pedal. He worked with the piano-makers
at Steingraeber (“Mr. Steingraeber” is described at work in the booklet),
and produced a model which mutes as effectively as any in the 1800s, but
otherwise is totally modern in sound.
This album is the first recording of the new piano. It is, mostly, a fine
instrument. The mute is wonderfully effective. I am especially keen on the
delicate way it renders bass notes. When mute is off, some of the treble
notes are glassy and over-bright, but this may be how the audio was recorded
in the studio; the problem is most obvious on D. 935 No. 4. Margulis, also,
is a quality Schubert interpreter, and there is no way I can complain about
his pacing, virtuosity or the way he characterizes each work. The impromptus
are marvellous. The
Wanderer Fantasy is bold, confident, and
notable for Margulis’s flawless choices on when to use — and when not to use
— the sordino pedal.
This experiment is only half-successful, for a number of reasons. First,
it’s not always clear when the sordino pedal is in effect, because Margulis
is not always a big fan of dynamic contrast. He’s commanding in the
Wanderer, but the second Klavierstück is almost all quiet, so your
ears strive to hear “is that quieter than before?” Then comes the Impromptu
D. 899 No. 2, in which I’m pretty sure he never uses the new pedal at
all.
If you want to hear a sordino pedal in magical action, listen to the way
Penelope Crawford plays the final Beethoven piano sonata. Certain variations
of the arietta — often described with words like “alien” — beg for the
pedal, and once you hear how that great work sounds on an 1830s instrument,
even a Steinway pales in comparison. Crawford uses the sordino pedal
sparingly but powerfully; when I hear it, my breath catches. My favourite
sordino performance ever, however, is Alexei Lubimov’s 2010 Zig-Zag
recording of Schubert, and specifically the famous G-flat impromptu, voiced
with an exquisite tenderness that makes a modern piano sound like a clumsy
interloper.
Sometimes Margulis’s usage of his special pedal is obvious, like at 10:39,
12:51 and 13:30 in the Klavierstück D. 946 No. 1. Here we run into the
second problem: the effect is just not as dramatic on a modern piano. His
booklet essay amply justifies his desire to have the sordino pedal; it never
justifies, not once, his desire to have a new instrument. To my mind, Graf’s
1830s instruments were simply better, and better for Schubert.
With that caveat in mind, if you disagree with me and prefer today’s
concert grands, then listen to this album and your ears will open. This
pedal opens a range of expression which has long been closed to artists. I
hope it becomes standard, because it solves a problem. The Margulis sordino
pedal is a major improvement on current grand pianos. It’s just not an
improvement on the fortepianos of the 1830s. The originals are still the
best.
Brian Reinhart
