There’s no long orchestral exposition here to give 
          the soloist time to warm the stool, just a couple of bars of "on 
          your marks" music then off she goes. Still, it’s all right, because 
          she’s given beginners’ music to play, just a simple melody in octaves. 
          Even the reviewer would be able to play the first couple of minutes 
          of this particular concerto, and what a wonderful time he would have! 
          All the same, I suspect that it’s actually easier for the soloist to 
          begin with more demonstrative music – massive chords à la Tchaikovsky 
          1 or hair-raising semi quavers (after a ravishing orchestral introduction) 
          as in Prokofiev 3 – than music as simple as this which, at the same 
          time, represents a major part of the thematic material of the whole 
          work. Well, Joyce Hatto will be relieved to know that she has nothing 
          to fear from me. She delivers this opening melody most sensitively, 
          her playing limpid and poised. At the same time she manages, as is the 
          way of a great artist, to inject this very simple music with all its 
          import and meaning, engaging the listener’s attention from the outset. 
          The arrival of the solo bassoon to play in duet with her after a few 
          bars demonstrates another feature of this performance: the outstanding 
          quality of the solo wind playing. Miss Hatto’s feeling for rubato 
          – around 4.00 in this first movement is a good example – demonstrates 
          a profound sympathy with the Rachmaninov style, and when this same music 
          returns in the recapitulation the calm she communicates is quite magical. 
          She plays the longer, more difficult of the two cadenzas Rachmaninov 
          provided. This was apparently the one the composer preferred, even if 
          he played the shorter one when he recorded the concerto himself with 
          Eugene Ormandy.
        
        The slow movement is more elusive than the other two, 
          and may even seem inconsequential in comparison. Rachmaninov calls it 
          an intermezzo, which goes some way to explaining this. I think it is 
          particularly difficult to bring off, technical issues aside, and in 
          spite of some beautifully characterful playing from both the soloist 
          and the orchestra I do find the more withdrawn passages of the movement 
          a shade less communicative than what has gone before. No such suspicion 
          can be entertained about the more brilliant central section, however. 
          There is again some beautiful duet playing, starting around 7.00, first 
          with the flute then with the horn. The finale, which follows without 
          a break, is superbly played, very rhythmic and march-like when required 
          and movingly poetic in the more passionate, yet strangely fragile, second 
          theme. Joyce Hatto has all the technical means at her disposal, from 
          rapid pianissimo playing to enormous power when called for. She communicates 
          her view of the concerto direct to the listener, who is, I submit, totally 
          convinced. "With a safe pair of hands," the liner notes tell 
          us, speaking of the end of the work, it "rarely fails to bring 
          the audience to its feet." Miss Hatto’s are certainly a safe pair 
          of hands: in this performance the music rises to a superb climax and 
          the work ends in stupendous fashion with a final kick on the accelerator.
        
        Joyce Hatto receives outstanding support from the National 
          Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra. It doesn’t matter who they are, their 
          playing is tight and hot, with all departments equally excellent. They 
          accompany their soloist in a most exemplary manner, together in more 
          ways than one during her more fantastic moments. This is of course a 
          credit to the late René Köhler who conducts the work with 
          the utmost care and control. Particularly interesting is the way he 
          brings out certain subsidiary parts, often in the basses, revealing 
          an unexpected diversity of orchestral invention. Between them these 
          forces produce a performance of the third concerto as recommendable 
          in its own way as the two others I know best, by Martha Argerich or 
          Byron Janis, and praise doesn’t come higher than that.
        
        The Moments Musicaux, are perhaps the first 
          of Rachmaninov’s solo piano pieces to show signs of his mature style. 
          They are also very interesting and lovely in their own right. I’d never 
          heard them before and I’m looking forward to getting to know them better. 
          Perhaps the 3 against 2 writing in the first piece sounds just a bit 
          literal in Joyce Hatto’s performance, but everywhere else I found her 
          playing most convincing, most of all in the dark melancholy – present 
          here, and so typical of the composer, even in this young man’s music 
          – of the third piece in B minor.
 
        
William Hedley 
        
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