Katchen’s death from cancer at forty-three robbed the 
          world of a musician whose talent had yet fully to develop. It’s salutary 
          to realise that had he lived he would now be only seventy-five. Though 
          he recorded widely – Rorem and Britten as well as Mussoursgky - it was 
          in Brahms that he established something of a hegemony. He was especially 
          convincing in early Brahms but his traversals of the violin Sonatas 
          with Josef Suk and the trios with Suk and Starker were profoundly distinguished 
          and are still amongst the most recommendable of versions. Silent now 
          since his death in 1969 his Brahms has been reissued variously over 
          the years – often coupled in more or less helpful compilations. In this 
          new Decca Eloquence reissue the Second Concerto is joined with the Paganini 
          Variations – a late concerto and a youthful virtuosic set. 
        
 
        
He recorded the concerto with Pierre Monteux as well 
          as this 1960 performance with Ferencsik in which distinctive qualities 
          co exist with more troubling features. The 40 year old still sounds 
          well, rich and deep, but there is a little rawness sometimes which unduly 
          spotlights orchestral soloists. In the first movement Katchen indulges 
          in some asymmetrical accents here and there and can sound a little mannered. 
          The blare of the first trumpet is a distinctive feature of the movement 
          as is the better-blended woodwind choir and Katchen’s pressured tone. 
          I felt a slight over nonchalance on his part in some of the filigree 
          runs and a sense of becalmed stasis at 12’30, which struck me as too 
          indulged. The fractious angularity of the second movement is well conveyed, 
          with strong left hand accents but maybe the beautifully melting melody 
          at 5’10 is too casually played. It sounds to me as if Katchen’s mobile 
          left hand is subverting, at a quick tempo, his right hand’s lyrical 
          impulse. I admire his desire not to wallow but would have welcomed a 
          more flexible rubato the better to fully bring out this passage. 
        
 
        
In the Andante Kenneth Heath’s leanly focused 
          cello solo prefaces the piano’s entry and it’s difficult for the soloist 
          not to sound lumpy and gauche, one I feel Katchen never wholly overcomes. 
          Ferencsik meanwhile upholds a really lyrical impulse here, encouraging 
          affectionate phrasing from the strings, moulding the bass pizzicatos 
          with finesse. I found the finale, however, problematic. Together with 
          his soloist neither conductor nor Katchen get quite the right rhythm. 
          There is instead a rather overdone quality to the music making with 
          accents and ritardandos rather too predictably imposed. Perhaps I am 
          alone in finding it all just a bit fey, too lacking in genuine impulse. 
          There’s much that is attractive here though. Katchen plays with reserves 
          of tone and technique and Ferencsik is a conductor of involvement but 
          the air of calculation remains troubling. 
        
 
        
The two books of the Paganini Variations are another 
          matter. There is some colossally brilliant playing here; the Variations 
          in sixths in Book One is a tour de force, done with virtuosity and panache. 
          He is, however, uniformly fast and sometimes a little bellicose and 
          this is not the kind of interior Brahms playing one might want. That 
          not even Katchen could knock off Book One untroubled can be heard in 
          the very bad edit at 10’57. Interestingly another lumpy edit at 1’54 
          in Book Two occurs during the slow waltz like introduction – every bit 
          as tricky as the more obviously virtuosic passages – but he is here 
          in general thoroughly and commandingly on form. 
        
 
        
Something of a mixed bag, then, with a slightly disappointing 
          Concerto yoked to the youthfully infectious Variations. 
        
 
        
        
Jonathan Woolf