Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975)
Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 12 (1926) [12:21]
Piano Concerto No. 1 in C minor, Op. 35 (1933) [21:40]
Piano Sonata No. 2, Op. 61 (1943) [26:42]
Piano Concerto No. 2 in F major, Op. 102 (1957) [19:00]
Peter Donohoe (piano)
Hugh Davies (trumpet)
Orchestra of the Swan/David Curtis
rec. Malvern Theatre, 2016 (Op. 35); Cheltenham Town Hall, 2015 (Op. 102);
Britten Studio, Snape Maltings, 2015 (Opp. 12 & 61)
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from
Hyperion
Pdf booklet included
SIGNUM RECORDS SIGCD493
[79:43]
This is the second instalment in Peter Donohoe’s Shostakovich series for
Signum. Indeed, if Dominy Clements’s
review
of volume one is anything to go by, this follow-up should be rather
special. Then again, ever since I first heard this pianist – in a
barnstorming performance of the Busoni concerto, recorded live at the BBC
Proms in 1988 – I’ve admired him for his versatility and insight. Most
recently, I
reviewed
his fine SOMM disc of Prokofiev sonatas. As for the Orchestra of the Swan,
they first swam into my ken with their splendid SOMM recording of
Schoenberg’s arrangements of Mahler’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen and Das Lied von der Erde
(review).
I’ve always been inordinately fond of Shostakovich’s two piano concertos,
which I discovered via a
CBS-Sony
classic from the 1960s, with André Previn, Leonard Bernstein and the New
York Philharmonic. And although the recording is showing its age, the
performances still have a verve and volatility that others can only dream
of. That said, the Dmitri Alexeev/Jerzy Maksymiuk/ECO performances on
CfP
– in far better sound – run them close. The latter includes a truly
unforgettable account of The Assault on Beautiful Gorky; indeed,
this is an album that all DSCH fans simply must have on their
shelves or hard drives.
Of more recent couplings of the concertos, Anna Vinnitskaya – with
the Kremerata Baltica and the Winds of the Staatskapelle Dresden – is
certainly worth a listen (Alpha). She directs Op. 35 from the keyboard, whereas Op. 102 is
conducted by Omer Meir Wellber. Even more recent is the Boris
Giltburg/Vasily Petrenko/RLPO disc, which Simon Thompson nominated a
Recording of the Month (Naxos). As it happens, I pitted Giltburg and Vinnitskaya against each
other in works by Rachmaninov; one of them took quite a drubbing in the
process (review).
Shostakovich’s two piano sonatas may be less popular, but they’re
remarkable pieces that reveal more of their virtues at each audition.
I’ve also been listening to Irina Chukovskaya in Op. 61 and the Op. 34
Preludes (Melodiya), performances that Dominy described as ‘top drawer’. I couldn’t agree
more, but if you fancy extraordinary accounts of both sonatas, and the
Preludes, try Raymond Clarke on
Athene.
David Wright dubbed that CD ‘a winner, an absolute cracker’; it certainly
won’t please everyone – No. 1 has never sounded so audacious – but there’s
no doubting the unbridled talent on display here.
Sentiments echoed by Prokofiev, who, having returned to Russia in 1927, was
much impressed by the 19-year-old Shostakovich’s first piano sonata. As he
noted in his diary: ‘Quite the young man, not only a composer but also a
pianist.’ Donohoe really brings out the contrapuntal writing here; and, as
something of a Prokofiev expert, he finds a mischievous modernity in the
music that confirms the latter’s influence on this early score. Whether in
those big, clustered climaxes or in those reflecting pools, Donohoe’s
responses are never less than commanding. Factor in Robin Hawkins’s
detailed and weighty recording, nicely balanced, and you have a very decent
account of this precocious piece.
Switching to Clarke brings to mind two very different rides at a funfair;
one is the Cups and Saucers, the other the Big Dipper. Given that Clarke
shaves nearly two minutes off Donohoe’s timing, there are no prizes for
guessing which is the white-knuckle ride. Athene’s bright, upfront
recording really sharpens the senses, and that makes Clarke’s performance
doubly thrilling. Not for the faint-hearted, perhaps, but dienophiles and
Shostakovich fans will find much to enjoy here.
That first sonata, a perfect example of what Forster called ‘the cleverness
of the young’, is a world away from the grown-up second. It was wartime,
Shostakovich’s piano professor Leonid Nikolayev had just died, and the
composer himself was recovering from typhoid fever. In spite of all that,
there’s an ease and eloquence to the early part of the Allegretto
that Donohoe, with his customary assurance, captures so well. He’s
jewelled, too, his control of rhythm and dynamics exemplary. And what a
nuanced and varied narrative this is, holding one’s interest to the very
end.
The Largo, with its soft, spectral dissonances, is still remarkably
lyrical, and Donohoe strikes an ideal balance between these opposing
elements. Think of it as poise and equipoise, a synthesis that neither
Churkovskaya nor Clarke can match. How lovely those pensive doodles at the
start of the Moderato con moto, and how heartfelt the music that
follows. But it’s the deeply intuitive nature of Donohoe’s performance, its
rare sense of communion, that makes it so special. In fact, I’d go so far
as to say this is the most complete account of the Op. 61 that I’ve
ever heard. Just one ride at this particular fair, but worth the price of
admission alone.
Donohoe is no less accomplished in the two concertos, although the first,
recorded in the Malvern Theatre, sounds much too close to me. Also, the
lower strings and the piano’s bass notes are somewhat muffled, the tuttis a
tad congested. I suspect that has everything to do with this venue’s
acoustics, as Mike Hatch’s recordings are usually beyond reproach. As for
the conductor David Curtis, he’s a reliable accompanist, although I find
him lacklustre in the Lento. Yes, this is an inward-looking
interlude, but it needs more lift, more light, than it gets here. Trumpeter
Hugh Davies does pretty well, though.
In short, this is a somewhat disappointing account of the first concerto.
The second, also engineered by Mike Hatch, was recorded in what seems to be
the more congenial surroundings of Cheltenham Town Hall. The sound is quite
airy, and there’s no hint of the woolly bass that blights the Malvern
sessions. Overall, the balance is much better too, the side drum especially
well caught. As ever, Donohoe is very much in control, rising to the big
moments with authority and aplomb. Alas, there’s a ‘but’, and it’s a big
one: the Andante is so sluggish that it comes perilously close to
stalling at times.
It’s the curse of comparisons, I suppose. but switching to Bernstein and
Maksymiuk simply magnifies the shortcomings here. More than anything, I
feel these Curtis/Donohoe performance lack essential cheek and chutzpah. True, the finale of Op. 102 has energy and point, but
given what’s gone before it feels oddly contrived. No, there are much
better recordings of these concertos out there, those I’ve mentioned high
among them. That said, Donohoe’s sonatas are very distinguished, the second
especially so. Also, the playing time is generous, and Daniel Jaffé’s notes
are clear and concise.
Excellent sonatas and disappointing concertos; variable sound.
Dan Morgan
