Robert SCHUMANN ((1810-1856)
Arabeske, Op 18 (1839) [6:32]
Kreisleriana, Op 16 (1838) [32:41]
Fantasie in C major, Op 17 (1836) [30:53]
Stephen Hough (piano)
rec. 24-26 April 2020, Henry Wood Hall, London
Reviewed as a digital download from
hyperion-records.co.uk
HYPERION CDA68363
[70:06]
The sleeve note to this new release from Stephen Hough makes great play of
the fact that the genesis of these three works lies in a crisis in the
composer’s turbulent courtship of Clara Wieck. They make an excellent set
and, whilst there are undoubtedly autobiographical elements, there is more
to them than that. Schumann the composer might be said to contain too many
multitudes, to paraphrase Walt Whitman, to be so simply contained. Schumann
tended to adopt alter egos to help express this multifarious aspect of his
character: the two most famous being Eusebius the introvert and Florestan
the extrovert.
If in the issue of Eusebius and Florestan, Hough comes out firmly on the
side of Eusebius that is not to say that he lacks virtuosity. The most
successful single section on this disc is probably the middle movement of
the Fantasie. In its closing pages Hough leaves all rivals trailing in his
wake, making even the mighty Horowitz sound ungainly. What I especially
liked about Hough’s handling of this movement was that, even here, Eusebius
has the upper hand where most others pummel the listener into submission
with mighty clods of chords. Hough never loses sight of the fact that this
is poetic music.
Hough’s poetry is of a very different order from, say, Cortot’s (whose
isn’t?). Whilst full of fantasy, it is also rather chaste where with Cortot
there is also a sense of darker shadows and of madness in the wings.
Hough’s poetry works best in the finale of the Fantasie and in the delicate
chordal passage that closes that same work’s opening movement. Where I
found it less convincing was in the phantasmagoria of Kreisleriana.
Technique-wise Cortot can barely touch Hough but the older pianist brings
greater scope to his vision of the whole in a work that can often seem to
ramble and digress too often. The task isn’t just to bring out Florestan
and Eusebius but to find a way to make them work together.
The opening movement of the Fantasie, for example, is full of gorgeous
piano playing on this recording: subtle and refined. Yet compared to
Horowitz live at the Carnegie Hall in 1965 there are moments when Hough
lets the dramatic tension sag a little too much. This becomes more of an
issue in Kreisleriana.
Both Cortot and Horowitz (particularly his later DG recording) bring more
devilry to Schumann’s evocation of the wild world of ETA Hoffman’s
kapellmeister. To my ears this is music that needs an element of
old-fashioned egomaniac virtuoso. There will, of course, be those who
loathe the whiff of incense and black mass that hangs around both of those
grand old pianists and for such listeners Hough can be recommended without
the slightest hesitation.
This is Hough’s second tilt at the Fantasie on record, having recorded it
for Erato in 1989. Apart from much more generous sound, the performances
are remarkably similar. There is a touch more delicate magic in the quieter
moments in the new recording. In addition there is a modest tightening of
the threads in the opening movement where the younger Hough allows himself
space to rhapsodise a little. His approach to the middle movement has
softened considerably and, as mentioned previously, all to the better in my
opinion.
The piano sound is most agreeable and suits Hough’s approach perfectly. It
is warm and ripe yet never lacks clarity. It is never hard or metallic
sound.
All in all, this is a recording that shows Hough at his considerable best
in terms of poetry and virtuosity and deserves to be considered alongside
the very best in these often-recorded works.
David McDade
