Arc I
Enrique GRANADOS (1867-1916)
Goyescas Op. 11 (1911) [50:29]
Leoš JANÁČEK (1854-1928)
In the Mists (1912) [15:26]
Alexander SCRIABIN (1871-1915)
Piano Sonata No.9 Op. 68 “Black Mass” (1913) [8:42]
Orion Weiss (piano)
Rec. 22-24 May 2014, SUNY Purchase Performing Arts Center, New York
Reviewed as a digital download from a press preview
FIRST HAND RECORDS FHR127 [74:51]
This is volume one of a planned three volume project intended to describe the emotional and historical arc of the title. The music recorded on this release is intended to capture the mood just before the arc of history curved downward into the cataclysm of the First World War. At first glance I struggled to see how these composers went together but in very different ways they do evoke the mood of that period and each successive work represents an emotional step towards the edge of the precipice. Granados’ Goyescas, in itself, seems to trace an arc from the carefree elegance of its opening to music that is, at turns, macabre and suffused with a sense of nostalgic loss. The bewildered sense of lostness that Janáček’s claustrophobic suite, In the Mists, evokes represents a tightening of the screw. In his accompanying programme notes, Orion Weiss mentions the feeling of being on a rollercoaster just before it begins its descent. The Scriabin
Black Mass sonata has the distinct feeling that the descent has begun.
I am always a little sceptical of recital discs with a theme as too often it seems that more thought has been given to a clever idea than to the performance of the individual pieces. When such recordings work, as with Cordelia Williams’ triumphant Nightlight last year (one of my recordings of the year), theme and performance illuminate each other. The question to keep in mind with this Arc project is how well do Weiss’ interpretations justify the theme?
One of the striking effects of this collection is the way it disrupts the usual categorisation of this music. Goyescas is usually lumped under the generic heading of Spanish music where Weiss reminds of the surprising fact that it dates from 1911, the year of Mahler’s death and the one before Pierrot Lunaire, two before The Rite of Spring. Whilst there is no doubt it harks back nostalgically, it is good to hear it within the different context of its time. It also does the job of representing a more innocent world about to be completely destroyed very well.
Weiss’ manner is rather understated which tends to downplay the Spanishisms in the music which is no bad thing. The result is more wistful than say the legendary Alicia de Larrocha and it is an approach that suits the programme very well without distorting the music to make it fit. Others will want crisper rhythms to evoke the influence of flamenco. By putting Granados in this company, I think Weiss is reasserting Granados as a piano composer rather than as just a colourful nationalist. Larrocha is untouchable in this repertoire but Weiss does have something interesting to say about this music. In the fandango third movement, Larrocha nails the authentic stiff hauteur but Weiss catches a note of pain lurking behind the dance. He also gives nothing away to his more illustrious rival in terms of colouration – no mean feat!
Janácek’s brief suite In the Mists has been in fashion of late and, as with all the works on this volume, there is some stiff competition. The first thing that struck me was that the Granados and the Janácek aren’t as different as I might have expected. Virtually a continent apart but both, within their own traditions, are folk inflected yet modern. True the Spanish composer is mostly looking back where the Czech is trying to peer forward through the fog but, as I mentioned before, the end of Goyescas grows out of the darker Goya paintings and paints a more macabre picture than its opening might lead the listener to expect.
The composer Thomas Adčs has described In the Mists as “claustrophobic”: “a narrow space with four solid walls”. This is very much the version Weiss gives us. It may be the effect of hearing it just after the Granados but he also gives us a surprising amount of colour in a work that can often sound monochrome and rather hard in terms of its piano sound. It is still water colour next to the oils of the Granados but it is full of a myriad of different hues. I greatly enjoyed listening to this performance but expected it to stand up less well to some selected comparisons. To my surprise not only did I prefer Weiss to the recent, well reviewed account by Jan Bartoš but also the very famous DG account by Firkusny!
With the Scriabin, we stray into the terrain of the big beasts of the piano world. I’m not going to pretend that the climax of this Black Mass gets anywhere near the demonic fury of Horowitz but I am not sure that is humanly possible. Weiss’ version is closer to a more recent interpretation by Vincenzo Maltempo in its emphasis on a lower voltage, almost Chopin like take on this unique music. Weiss is marvellous at magicking up the sinister mood of the opening and it fits perfectly with the developing mood of his programme. From the claustrophobia of Janácek, we are drawn to the psychotic flame of Scriabin’s lurid visions. Weiss used the word “presentiment” in his notes and it is an excellent one for the mood his playing captures. The great pity is that we now have wait for the next instalment to see where Weiss’ imagination takes us next on the downward curve.
David McDade
