It’s extraordinary now to think of a time when a critic
(it was Andrew Porter) could call Moiseiwitsch "a neither here
nor there artist." The underestimation and neglect – if not outright
contempt - into which his career sank in some quarters should be a constant
reproach to jaded critics bored with a familiar and ageing name. One
of the very greatest of Leschitizky’s pupils, his recordings are amongst
the most rewarding legacies of the piano heritage.
In the First Concerto Moiseiwitsch’s tonal bloom and
lyricism flood the music with allure. Dynamism is never in short supply
either and he allies a varied rhythmic palette with a singing legato
and superb passagework to provide a distinguished reading, worthy of
comparison with Rachmaninov’s own recording. The youthful Philharmonia
is sharply led by Sargent, a one-time Moiseiwitsch pupil. In the second
concerto his octave passage in the first movement is splendidly realised,
his rubato of complex subtlety, his inner voicings of rare imagination
and everywhere his tone sings ardently but with eloquent control. His
colourist genius is shown in the Rhapsody, a performance preferable
to his later traversal, in which impetuosity and scintillating accuracy
fuse united in common accord. The contours of the music are shaped with
unerring judgement, phrasing is very special, balance between the hands
is carefully organised, inner voicings brought out, with the left hand
bringing out details often overlooked or submerged.
Transfers are generally good as are the notes. Stellar
performances then and a necessary purchase, even if you have Moiseiwitsch’s
re-makes.
Jonathan Woolf
Benno Moiseiwitsch (piano)