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The cover of this disc 
                has a cartoon of Liszt which I feel 
                I ought to recognise (it’s unacknowledged 
                and has an indecipherable squiggle of 
                a signature at the bottom); the Liszt 
                of popular legend, his arms and fingers 
                flailing like octopuses, the whole keyboard 
                buckling and rising like a ship breaking 
                up in a storm, while the old hypocrite 
                has a beatific smile and a halo over 
                his head. This image of the composer 
                dies hard, but listen to the words of 
                Stanford who, as a young and impressionable 
                young man in his early twenties, heard 
                Liszt play at a semi-private gathering 
                and recalled the event many years later: 
              
              
 
                 
                  "He was the 
                    very reverse of all my anticipations, 
                    which inclined me, perhaps from 
                    the caricatures familiar to me from 
                    my boyhood, to expect to see an 
                    inspired acrobat, with high-action 
                    arms, and wild locks falling on 
                    the keys. I saw instead a dignified 
                    composed figure, who sat like a 
                    rock, never indulging in a theatrical 
                    gesture, or helping out his amazingly 
                    full tone with the splashes and 
                    crashes of a charlatan, producing 
                    all his effects with the simplest 
                    means, and giving the impression 
                    of such ease that the most difficult 
                    passages seemed like child’s play" 
                    (Pages from an Unwritten Diary, 
                    Edward Arnold 1914, pp.148-9). 
                  
                
              
              So how do you play 
                Liszt? Well, I studied certain of his 
                works (not the Transcendental Studies) 
                with the redoubtable Ilonka Deckers-Küszler, 
                who was most insistent that this music 
                was to be played with the same respect 
                for the text you would think right for 
                a Beethoven sonata, without rhythmic 
                distortions, manic rubato or any other 
                playing to the gallery. In other words, 
                you play it like the good music it is. 
                Furthermore, Deckers-Küszler did 
                not claim this as a discovery of her 
                own; she was taught it at the Conservatoire 
                of her native Budapest in the early 
                years of the 20th Century, 
                and there were teachers there who had 
                it from Liszt. 
              
 
              
Unfortunately, Ilonka 
                Deckers-Küszler was a somewhat 
                mysterious character who never committed 
                any of her playing to disc; she felt, 
                however, that her ideas were preserved 
                in the series of Liszt recordings made 
                by her tragically short-lived pupil 
                Edith Farnadi for Westminster. Alas, 
                these have never been readily accessible 
                and I have never yet succeeded in hearing 
                any of them, or even in knowing exactly 
                which works were recorded. Also of interest 
                would be the Liszt recordings by Louis 
                Kentner, who studied at Budapest Conservatoire 
                at about the same time as Deckers-Küszler. 
                Again, I have never succeeded in tracking 
                them down. 
              
 
              
But what has all this 
                to do with Joyce Hatto? Quite simply, 
                that she too sits down at the piano 
                and, with technical nonchalance but 
                a complete lack of any virtuoso fuss, 
                just gets on with playing the pieces 
                "straight", like the good 
                music they are. Whether she learnt this 
                from some past teacher or whether her 
                instincts led her this way I know not, 
                nor does it matter much. She is in that 
                royal line of Liszt interpreters who 
                believe this is great music and is to 
                be played as such. 
              
 
              
Now, what you won’t 
                get from Hatto is the sort of filigree 
                passage-work that makes you gasp at 
                the sheer crystalline evenness of it 
                all. Her passage-work is good, but it 
                is not part of her agenda to parade 
                its "goodness" as an end in 
                itself. In other words, if it’s Liszt 
                the circus-master you’re after, you 
                won’t get it. But if you have resisted 
                Liszt because of his showy image, then 
                these wonderfully musicianly performances 
                might make you change your mind. 
              
 
              
If there is any shortcoming, 
                it is that Hatto tends more towards 
                healthy robustness than to winsome poetry. 
                The booklet reprints 1956 notes by Humphrey 
                Searle, according to whom Harmonies 
                du Soir "conjures up the atmosphere 
                of a peaceful evening with the distant 
                echoes of bells". Here Hatto, for 
                better or for worse, is full-toned and 
                intense. 
              
 
              
The recording dates 
                are eleven years apart. The sound is 
                fairly consistent nonetheless, warm 
                and pleasing if not especially lifelike. 
                All the same, if you care about Liszt 
                the composer you should not miss 
                this disc. 
              
 
              
Christopher Howell 
                
              
see also review 
                by Jonathan Woolf 
              
 
              
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