Ozan Marsh studied, amongst others, with Emil von Sauer 
          whose recording of the Liszt Concerto with Weingartner (both were Liszt 
          pupils) is so prized a memento of his august discography. In 1985 Marsh 
          went into the studios to record an early version of the E flat Concerto 
          with the LPO and Paul Freeman. Marsh’s variants are from the 1854 manuscript 
          and centre on the addition of sixteen bars after the trill at the end 
          of the second movement fitting as a section before the triangle that 
          leads onto the third. 
        
 
        
Marsh takes an elegant and patrician view of the Concerto. 
          His voicings in the allegro maestoso are frequently of exceptional 
          delicacy, his trills graded with precision, his playing informed by 
          an almost chamber intimacy (listen to his playing beneath the brief 
          clarinet solo at 2.30 where his dynamics are of real sensitivity). These 
          exchanges (clarinet, violin) are part of a patina of exchange and flourish 
          that informs Marsh’s playing. The thematic flux of the opening’s material 
          is reflected by his exactingly romantic response to it. The sense of 
          time’s vista opening in the Quasi adagio is palpable and indeed 
          part of Marsh’s own conception of the work as a whole which, not unlike 
          but even more than Sauer’s own recording, unfolds in an unhurried way. 
          The 1854 edition, by the way, has a delightfully well played clarinet 
          solo, the piano musingly supportive beneath it, then expounding on the 
          theme, solo, in a kind of quasi-cadenza section of intimate projection 
          and nicely contrastive with and anticipatory of the more voluptuous 
          skittishness of the ensuing Allegretto vivace section announced 
          by the triangle. Even here however Marsh maintains a triumphant finesse 
          – though he’s not short on technique, as one can hear, but prefers to 
          keep it in reserve and not paraded. Orchestra and soloist are commanding 
          in the animato section and in chordal flourish his tone remains even 
          and round. Marsh’s refined but highly plastic phrasing allow the music 
          time wittily to breathe in the Allegro marziale section and when 
          it comes to the Presto there’s no little drama and flourish and 
          leonine power. 
        
 
        
No less enjoyable is the Busoni arrangement for piano 
          and orchestra of the Spanish Rhapsody. Concert Artist’s notes 
          remind us – I certainly didn’t know – that it was Bartók who 
          gave the first performance of it in 1904 (it was also recorded by Petri, 
          another of Marsh’s teachers, with Mitropoulos). There is once more much 
          distinguished playing here and none to the gallery. The brass is burnished 
          in the opening section, the strings exultant and almost smeary in their 
          romantic leaps. The La Folia quotation is full of sinuously dark 
          and unnerving undercurrents in Marsh’s hands – hints of things unknown 
          and unknowable maybe – and elsewhere he is a romantic tonalist of distinction, 
          left hand never submerged. Even at his most relaxed he is capable of 
          spinning a resonant and compelling line and these elasticities of phrasing 
          find their analogue in his rhythmically precise and drivingly exciting 
          peroration at the work’s conclusion. 
        
 
        
The Totentanz performance requires a little 
          explanation. This is Marsh’s performing version, which has involved 
          expansion of the sound of the tuttis and has used Liszt’s notebooks 
          as a source for adding extra material to the existing cadenzas. The 
          coda would in the old days be written up as Busoni-Marsh as it is essentially 
          Busoni’s with Marsh adding some amendments. It’s certainly a staggering 
          tour de force, Marsh doing some breathtakingly saturnine things, roulades 
          of right hand runs thrown up the keyboard, the bass throbbing to his 
          power. Yet insistence is but one part of the work’s austere and fearsome 
          drama – the Dies Irae that courses through it inspires Marsh 
          to introspective, almost Bachian moments of reflection and timelessness. 
        
 
        
I believe that this has been out on CD before – on 
          a 1988 Vox Turnabout PVT 7191. Concert Artist made a number of recordings 
          with Marsh and they have added this to their catalogue. I’m delighted 
          that they have done so. 
        
 
        
Jonathan Woolf  
          Note from Concert Artists 
          One small point in the interest of accuracy. This CD has never been 
          available in this country on the Turnabout Label (not even imports were 
          allowed under the licence) but was released on Concert Artist Cassette 
          FED4-TC-049 and is still available in our catalogue. It was released 
          in the USA on CD by Turnabout as stated by Jonathan Woolf. Concert Artist/Fidelio 
           
            
        
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