Completed when the
pianist was just twenty-five years old,
this iconic recording is notable for
Serkin’s deep understanding of the composer’s
sound-world and its emotional extremes,
coupled with considerable instrumental
prowess. Although Peter Serkin wasn’t
the first to record these monumental
pieces, his insights have almost congealed
into legend over the years. Now, of
course, many fine pianists have tackled
the work, or portions of it. In just
the last year I’ve heard sections by
Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Alexander
Tselyakov, to cite just two.
The piece is in twenty
sections, each ranging from two minutes
to about thirteen, and incorporates
a fairly wide spectrum of keyboard challenges;
within the frame of Messiaen’s language,
that is. If the work as a whole can
be likened to a vast travelogue, most
of the pieces are smaller journeys in
themselves, often starting with one
texture or motif, and then veering off
into another as the piece progresses.
Take one of the longer ones, No. 15,
Le Baiser de l’Enfant Jésus,
which begins with great gentleness.
The opening has the simplicity and stateliness
of a chorale, but this is soon disrupted
by sequences that are more agitated,
and the whole thing climaxes with a
burst of what sounds like an ecstatic
vision, before dissolving in an afterglow
of glittering runs. Messiaen’s language
sometimes has echoes of Scriabin or
Prokofiev, but his relentless focus
is unique, as is his clearly devotional
outlook. Michael Steinberg, in his excellent
notes, suggests that a devout Catholic
might gain the most from hearing this
cycle, which is probably true, but I
can’t imagine many lovers of fine piano
playing feeling cheated by Serkin’s
extraordinary traversal.
One could write for
dozens of pages in great detail about
all of the parts, but I’ll leave the
bulk for the listener to discover, since
this two-disc set is well worth exploring
and will repay the time spent many times
over. Some of my favorites include No.
5, Regard du Fils sur le Fils,
with its enchanting figures in the instrument’s
higher registers, and its delicate final
phrase that trails off into nothingness,
or No. 6, Par Lui tout a été
fait, with its harsh, throbbing,
toccata-like opening. It continues brutally,
aggressively, with more counterpoint
than some of the others, and by the
time Serkin reaches its feverish end
you may be exhausted. Contrast that
to No. 19, Je dors, mais mon coeur
veille, the penultimate one, which
telegraphs "we’re nearing the end"
with its peaceful, relative tranquility.
And then the final Regard de l’église
d’amour presents Serkin with a panorama
of challenges – it’s almost a summation
of everything that has come previously
– before the concluding chords that
bring the entire enterprise to an almost
abrupt close.
Serkin’s work throughout
is pretty astounding, showing epic concentration,
especially considering the early stage
in his career when this was completed.
His musicality is always at the forefront,
and some of the pieces with extremes
of repetition – patterns that can sound
monotonous in other hands – make perfect
sense here. He combines a keen feeling
for the work’s overall reverent nature,
with an ability to convey the surprise
when an explosive passage suddenly flares
up.
I cannot tell a lie.
The sound, while very good, to my ears
does not really compete with the best
digital recordings of today. Unfortunately
I have not yet heard Aimard’s recording,
which is from all reports spectacular
in sonic terms. But this is only a small
caveat, and should not deter anyone
from rushing out to buy this whilst
it is available ... and who knows how
long that will be. The crisply
designed packaging includes a graphic
reference to the composer’s love of
bird songs, and Steinberg’s notes, as
mentioned earlier, are a plus as well.
He concludes, "If I had to demonstrate
to the man from Mars what a piano is
and what you can do with it, I could
not do better than to play this breathtaking
recording of one of the twentieth century’s
truly imposing masterpieces." Indeed,
I couldn’t have said it better.
Bruce Hodges
Peter Serkin (piano) 
