Frédéric CHOPIN (1810-1849)
Sonata No.1 in C minor, Op.4 (1828) [23:18]
Scherzo No.1 in B minor, Op.20 (1831-32) [10:20]
Ballade No.1 in G minor, Op.23 (1831) [9:55]
Scherzo No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.31 (1837) [10:34]
Sonata No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.35 (1837-1839) [23:41]
Ballade No.2 in F major, Op.38 (1836-39) [7:38]
Scherzo No3 in C-sharp minor, Op.39 (1839) [7:53]
Ballade No.3 in A-flat minor, Op.47 (1841) [7:56]
Ballade No.4 in F minor, Op.52 (1842, rev.1843) [12:06]
Scherzo No.4 in E major, Op.54 (1842) [12:51]
Sonata No.3 in B minor, Op.58 (1844) [28:37]
Vassily Primakov (piano)
rec. 2012, The Concert Hall of University of Southern Florida (Tampa).
DDD
LP CLASSICS 1009A/B [77:50 + 76:59]
Vassily Primakov has a special relationship with the music of Chopin. Here
is a pianist with the necessary ingredients in his armoury: emotional
control, velvety touch, understanding of the composer’s intentions,
interpretational honesty and modesty. This has already brought high praise
for his recordings of Chopin’s concertos and mazurkas.
The present recording, now on Primakov’s own LP Recordings label,
continues to support his reputation. This double disc contains a rare
combination – all three sonatas, the four Ballades and the four Scherzos.
Although the Scherzos and the Ballades are sometimes recorded as a set, this
is not the case with the sonatas. The First Sonata is probably the least
known of Chopin’s large-scale works, which is completely undeserved. This
set is also a gift for those who prefer candy-free Chopin, without the
ubiquitous caramelised bijoux. Those are precious, but one can’t
eat candy all the time. Here we meet Chopin The Serious, the peer of Liszt
and Schumann.
The piano is a Steinway D. Despite the reservations that some may have
about Steinways, this one is a magnificent example of how you can have it
all. The sound is clear and lean yet with a great expressive
range. The instrument is capable of subtlety and power, which is essential
for such a large pianistic anthology. So often with a Steinway I feel that I
am listening to the instrument rather than to the music – not here. This
also suits Primakov’s manner, as he aims to convey the essence of the music
and not to show-off and strike poses.
The works are not grouped by the name, but are ordered by their opus
number. This is an interesting odyssey, spanning the composer’s entire life
and showing how the idealistic youth becomes more mature, skilful and bitter
over the years.
Chopin’s First Sonata is the closest to the sound-world of his
two concertos. It starts with a heavily emotional first movement, which is
followed by a rustic, syncopated Scherzo in Ländler style. Then comes a
tender, opalescent slow movement, and lastly the tempestuous finale. Primakov
makes a cut in this movement, to make it more condensed. The playing is
expressive yet gentle, wistful yet wise, unhurried yet energetic.
Primakov starts the Second Sonata notably faster than the
classical examples. In this way the resemblance to Beethoven’s
Tempest sonata is less prominent, and so the greater is the
contrast with the hypnotic calmness of the second subject. The “love music”
in the middle of Scherzo is warm and tender, without exaggeration or
pressure. Primakov’s version of the Marche funèbre has more direct
momentum than, for example, Rubinstein’s hypnotic dirge. It brings the cold
metallic feeling of inevitability, is less personal and more “objective”. On
the other hand, it is also less deep and, as a consequence, I find it not as
gripping. The middle episode is woven out of gentle silver light, with the
ethereal coolness of a glass harmonica. What always ruined this sonata for
me was the strangely incongruous, tiny and crumpled finale. After the
nine-minute Marche funèbre it takes a little over a minute; it flies
without foundation, and sounds more like an etude. Primakov makes it work by
not rushing; he intones and accentuates every measure, every little branch
of this thicket, making it alive and breathing. Byron Janis does a similar
thing but is more intense, to even greater effect. Rubinstein is deadly
uniform and perfunctory; I suspect he hated this part of the sonata.
The first movement of the Third Sonata is impatient and heroic.
Primakov interprets it in a way similar to that adopted by Nelson Freire, who is
opulent and beautifully poetic. With that, Primakov has more of a dramatic
aim, while Freire leaves us with the feeling of “Wow, that’s beautiful”.
Primakov does not wear his heart on his sleeve; many things are said simply
and even casually, without melodrama. It’s this sincerity that makes the
feeling believable. The Scherzo is taken at a more leisurely tempo than
usual. It is still mercurial but a greater breathing space grants it
elegance and a clear, fountain-like glitter. The lack of sheer speed-induced
brilliance reduces the Wow-factor; on the other hand, this
understatement is delicate and kindles the listener’s imagination. The slow
movement resembles the quiet slow movements of Beethoven with some solemn,
Lisztian harmonies du soir. Primakov produces a real Largo
— not the Andante adopted by some — but with sufficient inner
motion and vitality. He plays it lightly, with subtle shades, and even on
this scale the music does not become monotonous. This experience can be
compared with watching a pastoral landscape under slowly drifting clouds. I
like how the message of this movement grows on almost hypnotically. The
pianist is commanding and versatile in the stormy sea of the finale, keeping
our interest through dynamics, accents and excellent drive. His pace is
soft. He does not stomp the main theme but sings it. This is a tad slower
than the average competitor, but has Beethovenian power without too much
rapture.
Primakov takes the First Ballade slower than usual, especially in
transitions, and loses a bit of its drama on the way. This work is very
cinematographic, but the movie we are shown here has more suspense than
action. There's a certain evenness of the dynamic level in the second
part. Overall, it is not excessively theatrical, and is closer to a candid
narration along the lines of Ashkenazy than to the more eccentric takes of
Michelangeli or Janis.
Ballade No.2 opens calm and tender. Then enter the demons, black
and scary, and very visual. The tempo is not breakneck allowing more inner
voices to be heard. This more narrative tempo also suits the essence of the
genre – after all, this is a ballade, not a scherzo. The reading is dramatic
and lyrical.
In the barcarollish Third Ballade Rubinstein is grand,
Moiseiwitsch playful, and Ashkenazy alive, smooth and volatile, like an
ephemeral dancer by Degas. Compared with Ashkenazy, Primakov’s version shows
the joints and the hinges. There is too much bravura and granularity; the
music feels more jerky than graceful.
Ballade No.4 is Chopin’s Valse triste. Rubinstein here
is grand and melodramatic, Moiseiwitsch simple and balanced, Ashkenazy is
epic and totally absorbs the listener in the twists of the plot. Primakov
starts the pendulum moving slowly and gathers pace gradually. He articulates
very clearly. In the middle he is more dancing than flying; there is less
forward momentum and more attention to the beauty of the moment. In the “big
storm” he exhibits restraint, but the ending is a real tempest. There are
places where he drags a bit but the steady gathering of energy is certainly
impressive.
The tumult of the outer parts of the First Scherzo is aptly
hysterical. There are some accentuating tempo changes, but they work well
and do not feel mannered. The Trio sings spellbindingly. In the Second
Scherzo, Primakov strikes the golden medium between heroic Richter and
poetic Michelangeli, with a good ear for nuance. The climax is powerful, yet
without banging, and the ending is ecstatic.
Primakov’s Scherzo No.3 leaves an ambiguous impression. On one
hand it is hard, raw and not pretty, and the beginning is rushed. On the
other hand, its dramatic structure is very clear. It is engaging and
dramatically convincing. The pianist fully employs the powerful and dark
lower register of his instrument. The first theme is blatantly cruel and so
the greater is the effect of the magical, soothing second subject.
Primakov presents the last Scherzo as a mini-sonata, with the sad
Trio becoming the real slow movement, a bit operatic and very distinct from
other parts. Most recordings gravitate towards 10 minutes; Primakov indulges
in almost 13 minutes. The music of the outer parts does not sound much
slower, though: the time is spent in breaks, pauses and preparations.
Everything becomes grand, with less in the way of “French” lightness and
spontaneity. The accents are strong and the music gains weight, which does
not always work. Richter on Melodiya also favours a slower approach, but in
his case – possibly because of his preference for a brighter instrument –
the result is light and airborne. I can’t deny though that Primakov’s Trio
is beautifully sung.
Overall, this double disc is more than the sum of its parts. Even though
some other performers may have handled certain moments better, everything
here still fits very well into the large mosaic. Ordering the pieces
chronologically is fruitful – not from the purely historical point of view,
but because it separates similar pieces. Chopin did not intend his Scherzos
or Ballades to be played in a group. They can be better appreciated when
approached separately, especially the Scherzos. In this way a necessary
diversity is secured, and it becomes easier to consume and appreciate such a
large helping of music.
The pianist gives us good thunder in the early works and good sunshine in
the later ones. He has the tendency to hover over certain places for
emphasis. He puts to good use the resonant depth of his instrument’s lower
register. This is not “old man’s Chopin”, perfectly measured, balanced and
predictable. This is Chopin of flesh and blood, not a spectral presence. The
performance excites like a live concert experience. The booklet is minimal,
but more notes can be found on the record label’s website.
Oleg Ledeniov
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