If you are in the market
for a measured, considered - yet not
unexciting - but crucially, consistent
Beethoven sonata cycle, then I should
say at the outset that you should look
elsewhere. Instead I would point you
toward, in no particular order and not
exclusively, cycles by Alfred Brendel,
Bernard Roberts, Alfredo Perl or Paul
Lewis; the latter yet to be recorded
for Harmonia Mundi, but an opinion based
upon the recent broadcast of half the
sonatas from Wigmore Hall recitals.
If however you want
Beethoven sonatas with a strong character,
occasionally irritating, sometimes baffling,
but equally often magnetic, compelling
and deeply satisfying you should give
the present set a try.
My first contact with
Backhaus’s Beethoven was, I guess, like
many impecunious collectors in the early
1970s, via a World of the Great Classics
compilation (SPA 69) – i.e. the "Moonlight",
"Pathétique" and "Appassionata"
coupled on LP. They became my benchmarks,
and to a large degree remain so. I remember
being especially impressed by the virtuosity
allied to a sense of a real, unfolding
"story" in each work. I had
no idea at the time I was listening
to a man in his 75th year,
and probably would have been astonished
if someone had told me.
Indeed one of the pre-eminent
facets of Backhaus’s career was that
he maintained a enviable technique,
without overt display, throughout. The
notes were always under his fingers,
yet equally always at the service of
the music not his ego. As Jeremy Siepmann
records in his informative notes to
this set: "To the end of his days
there was almost nothing he couldn’t
play with relative ease, and he housed
in his memory most of the known pieces
of piano literature."
Allied to this was
an unfailing beauty of tone; plenty
of power yes, but no ugly sounds. True
some of his earlier recordings from
the 78 era are more animated, yet there
is absolutely no sense here of a stodgy
old-timer managing by sheer dint of
personality. If there are occasional
passages of "stodge" it is
more a factor of personality than deficiency.
Although I can’t confirm
this from personal experience, since
his career concluded just as my concertising
was beginning, I very much get the impression
Backhaus was "his own man".
If he went into the studio on a particular
day and felt a movement, or a whole
sonata, should be played in a certain
fashion then by god that was how it
was going to be played; whatever producers,
engineers or supporters might suggest
to the contrary. Not that I imagine
him ranting and raving at people; more
that he achieved his goal through a
stubborn and purposeful insistence on
his own vision. Most of the time this
approach seems to work; occasionally
it doesn’t.
I undertook a quite
detailed comparison of sonata no 27,
op. 90, a favourite of mine. Written
about the time of "Fidelio",
it is dedicated to Count Morits von
Lichnowsky
to celebrate his forthcoming
marriage. The Count was eager to discover
its meaning and so he badgered the composer
to reveal the secret. Beethoven eventually
spoke of the first movement as "a
struggle between head and heart",
whilst the second was a "conversation
with the beloved". How serious
Beethoven was, indeed whether he had
his tongue firmly in his cheek, is not
known. Whatever the truth the work is
often seen as the divide between the
middle and late sonatas, although Paul
Lewis in his recent traversal interestingly
speaks of it more as a bridge between
the two groups.
There should be a sense
of discourse, even struggle, in the
first movement, whilst the second embraces
surely one of Beethoven’s most beautiful
melodies, well worthy of any "beloved".
In his Wigmore recital
Paul Lewis rather understated the opening
movement, which Backhaus articulates
more, and to better purpose. It feels
as though the older man is really "telling
like it is", whilst Lewis appeared
to be trying to caress the music more.
Then in the second the roles reverse.
Backhaus sounds occasionally "matter-of-fact",
whilst Lewis really sings the beautiful
melody. Interestingly Alfredo Perl,
and to a slightly lesser degree, Alfred
Brendel, follow Lewis’s pattern. Friedrich
Gulda, ever the individualist, in his
second traversal of the sonatas originally
issued on Amadeo LPs and now to be found
on Brilliant Classics CDs, is even more
violently contrasted. The second movement
is more matter-of-fact than Backhaus,
penny-plain even. Like many of his performances
Gulda’s sonatas can suffer from unsympathetically
fast speeds, albeit that some of his
interpretations do act as a real wake-up
call!
Siepmann elsewhere
in his notes to this set discusses Backhaus’s
oft described simplicity: "… he
understood the degree to which the notes
can look after themselves"; a process
which can on occasion result in playing
that sounds rather strait-laced, even
bald. In the finale of the "Waldstein"
for instance, that wonderful transition
from darkness to light, so reminiscent
of the end of Fidelio, goes for
comparatively little under his fingers.
Just compare this passage, indeed this
movement with Arrau, who introduces
the great melody almost imperceptibly,
and then lets it flower magnificently,
and you’ll hear what I mean. Whilst
Backhaus tends to "ping" out
the melodic line in the treble, Arrau
judiciously "places" the notes.
Similarly the slow
movement of the "Pastorale"
seems to just pass by. Alfredo Perl
by contrast is splendid here, bringing
out an almost sinister, "figures
in a moonlight garden", strand
to the music not at all common among
pianists, but difficult to erase from
the memory once lodged. Yet on the other
hand go to the "Tempest",
especially the final allegretto, and
Backhaus sounds strong-minded, purposeful
and beautifully articulated, with that
pearl-like tone characteristic of much
of his best playing. And so I could
go on … but I hope by now you will have
some idea where I stand.
To speak briefly about
the sound quality. Most of the recordings
originate from Geneva; a couple from
the Sofiensaal in Vienna. Only one,
the 1952 "Hammerklavier" is
in mono. Generally the recordings are
fine. Just occasionally, as on disc
5, moving from Geneva c.1968 (op. 49
nos. 1 and 2), to the same hall some
ten years earlier ("Waldstein")
one experiences a slight change in perspective
and a sudden increase in background
hiss, but my ears soon adjusted. In
one or two instances, for example in
op. 90, there was a certain "fuzziness"
to the sound which I couldn’t avoid.
As soon as I switched to other sonatas
the piano image clicked back into place.
To conclude; Backhaus
is not a panacea in these works, but
I wouldn’t want to be without him. Like
life he is from time to time frustrating,
perplexing, indifferent … and yet …
equally rewarding, stimulating and difficult
to erase from the memory.
Did I enjoy this set?
– very much. Would I have bought it
myself? – almost certainly. Do I recommend
it? – with provisos, definitely. Is
it the only set to own? – with a genius
such as Beethoven, how could it be.
Nevertheless…enjoy!
Ian Bailey
Wilhelm Backhaus (piano) 
