Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
24 Preludes and Fugues for Piano, Op.87 (1950-51)
Craig Sheppard (piano)
rec. at two concerts in April 2015 at Meany Theater, Seattle
ROMÉO RECORDS 7315-16 [63:34 + 78:01]
Craig Sheppard is certainly not involved in frivolous recording
schedules. He has explored, in a series of discs, some of the most profound
areas of the repertoire – most have been reviewed here – and now
turns to Shostakovich’s Preludes and Fugues, Op.87. The resultant discs
are an amalgamation of two concerts recorded in Meany Theater in Seattle in
April 2015. He utilised, as I believe he always does, the Steinway D concert
grand there. What’s not quite clear to me is whether he performed the
whole 24 on both occasions, though it seems probable that he did.
Performances of this kind require mental and physical stamina. They also require
an incisive mechanism and a sure awareness of the sheer range of expressive
nuance the music demands – from sardonic to pastoral, organ voicings
to French Overture, chorale to waltz, to children’s songs and more besides.
Characterisation, and appropriate colours, whether airy tracery or pedal-pointed
Mussorgskian drama are all part of a pianist’s arsenal in this extreme
test of sophistication and simplicity.
Sheppard is not one for grand seigneurial lassitude, or indeed temporal latitude.
He retains an intensely athletic sprung-rhythm and whilst properly sensitive
to those richly slower preludes, is at pains to keep phraseology tautly elastic.
He finds special colours in a marvelously articulated G major prelude, whilst
vesting the succeeding E minor with a haunting quality that’s followed
by an almost tentative fugue, one that incrementally gains amplitude. He finds
playfulness scattered throughout, notably in the D major’s prelude but
deals justly with the little fanfare figures of the A major’s fugue.
He seems to relish the mischievous F sharp minor’s prelude and the contrast
between the delicacy of the E major’s prelude and the rhythmic vitality
of its fugue.
The music’s greatest depths – such as the reflective melancholy
of the B flat minor – are in no way short-changed, nor are the sometimes
gaunt, mysterious qualities to be found here, such as in the C minor. The
beautifully calibrated voicings of the G minor and the declamatory brio of
the concluding D minor all attest to a high level of communicative and technical
commitment. Character, colour, rhythm, hand balancing and pedaling have all
been wisely considered.
Naturally you’ll want to know about the elephant in the room: Tatiana
Nikolaieva, whose recordings are benchmarks – the Melodiya 1987 and
the later Hyperion being the two most commonly encountered. Without playing
the age card Sheppard is a few years older than the Russian pianist was when
she made the Melodiya set. In almost every movement he vests the music with
greater rhythmic emphasis. But theirs are complementary approaches, hers a
product of close study and the composer’s imprimatur. Sheppard, as he
has shown elsewhere in his discography – the complete Beethoven sonatas,
for instance - is unshackled by tradition. He is a clear-eyed exponent, marring
elements of the romantic and objective traditions, and his approach here is
hugely impressive.
Sheppard’s own booklet notes make for enlightening and engaging reading.
No dry pedantry here. I am happy to report that Sheppard is being accorded
the recording quality he deserves. In years gone by I always found the microphone
placement too close, so that the piano’s action was sometimes intrusive.
Here we have a fine recording, with a well-judged distance. It makes all the
difference.
Jonathan Woolf
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