At the close of a review
of a generally impressive but not uniformly
even Op. 25 at the Wigmore in October
last year (review),
I stated that ‘I look forward to hearing
his Chopin Etudes (both sets) in another
10-20 years time’. Six months later,
and a SACD of the Opp. 10 and 25 appears
(Kempf evidently does not approve of
the Trois nouvelles Etudes, as
there’s plenty of room left on the disc).
BIS elect to accord him exemplary recording
standards, courtesy of Producer/Engineer
Jens Braun, and a piano that seems to
have been exquisitely prepared by Stefan
Olsson (try the end of the E minor,
Op. 25 No. 5 for evidence of this).
Never at any point
does Freddy Kempf make the listener
doubt his technical abilities. Indeed,
it is obvious he is more than just a
technician - yet his interpretation
has yet to mature and there is the constant
nagging doubt that this has been put
down for posterity too early in his
career. There are moments of excellence,
that much is undeniable, but when the
Etudes are over Kempf does not
give the impression of having undertaken
a journey, rather of having presented
24 separate short pieces.
So it is that in the
first Prelude of the Op. 10 set one
can only admire the resonance of the
bass (no muddiness at all), without
really getting dragged into the fact
this is the beginning of one of the
piano literature’s major opuses. The
second Prelude (A minor) reveals Kempf’s
smooth legato (Horst Scholz’s booklet
note - of which more later - refers
rather nicely to this piece’s ‘tight,
chromatic garlands’). The somewhat affected
rubato of the usually magical E major
makes the Prelude appear contrived (compare
Kempf with Van Cliburn on RCA Legendary
Visions 82876 58241-9, see my review,
and you enter a different Universe!).
The following, famous C sharp minor
comes straight from the School of Aggressive
Virtuosity. It is a torrent of notes
and, on its own terms, is actually very
exciting. Forced expression is again
present in No. 6 (E flat minor, Andante),
which meanders somewhat in Kempf’s hands.
Literalism robs the F major (No. 8)
of its lace-like magic - there is no
doubting with Kempf that this is an
Etude! The next Etude is better, more
flighty. Hope comes in the form of No.
10, not too mechanistic and rising to
quite an impressive climax. No. 11 (E
flat) shows that Kempf does indeed possess
an intimate side. Presumably this was
to ensure maximum contrast to the martellato
left-hand of the opening of No. 12 in
C minor - the so-called ‘Revolutionary’.
The set closes with Kempf adding warmth
to his tone. The recording is particularly
excellent here.
The Op. 25 set is dedicated
to the Countess Marie d’Agoult, Liszt’s
companion and mother to Cosima, Mrs
Richard Wagner-to-be. Horst Scholtz’s
notes about this set are all in one
huge paragraph, making for difficult
reading (over 1½ pages of text!) whatever
their claims as a useful guide for the
uninitiated.
Kempf’s studied rubato
in the first of the sequence sets the
tone for a reading short on sensitivity.
The fourth Etude (A minor) is more typewriter
than Agitato, although to be fair, later
on, Kempf plays No. 8 (D flat) with
more subtlety than he did at the Wigmore
(where I referred to his ‘machine-gun’
touch). Structurally, too, the interpretation
needs more consideration. The C sharp
minor Lento (No. 7) is a meditation
that represents the still centre of
Op. 25. Kempf does not enter into Chopin’s
world here, and an excellent left-hand
towards the climax (around 2’30) is
offset by right-hand chords that break
the tone of the piano. Kempf is happiest
in the Lisztian octaves of No. 10 in
B minor, a tour-de-force. He leaves
a long pause before the whimsical middle
section, after a markedly violent close
to the ‘A’ section. It helps to make
this Etude, one of Kempf’s best performances,
almost turn into a tone-poem. Of the
A minor (No. 11), I wrote at the Wigmore
that Kempf over-interpreted the simple
single-line opening and its ensuing
chordal ‘echo’, lessening the contrast
to the ‘explosion’ that follows. Here
the pianissimo chords are beautifully
weighted, but the harmonic shift that
closes the sequence, which should be
so full of mystery, is here painfully
literal, as if the pianist’s mind is
on the perils of the rest of the Prelude.
Maybe that was the case, but there is
definitely not the requisite impression
of holding one’s breath before the onslaught.
The final Prelude in
C minor is impressive. Kempf’s harmonic
awareness results in a well built climax.
Yet this is not a set of Chopin Etudes
I see myself returning to very often,
except maybe as a demonstration of recording.
There appears to be
some confusion as to which Etude is
sometimes known as the ‘Winter Wind’,
as the track listing has it as the final
one, the liner notes imply it is No.
11.
Disappointing.
Colin Clarke
Freddy Kempf (piano). 