When
you match an artist as gifted and volatile as Nikolai Demidenko
with a work as emotionally wide-ranging and technically fearsome
as the Diabelli Variations, the result is bound to be worth
investigating. Demidenko has proved himself in a number of
key repertoire areas (Bach, Chopin, Rachmaninov) but this
was my first encounter with his Beethoven.
It’s
pretty obvious from the outset – and no great surprise – that
Demidenko sees the contrast and sheer scale of stylistic
variety within the piece as the platform for his interpretation.
He dispatches the little opening waltz as the trifle Beethoven
obviously viewed it as, and we already get the feeling that
dynamics in particular will be highlighted, in this case
the heavy sforzando accents in the left hand.
As
the variations progress and the bigger picture unfolds, so
Demidenko digs deeper into Beethoven’s multi-faceted keyboard
writing. Variation 1’s march is perhaps less maestoso than
Brendel - particularly his live BBC recording from 1976 -
but there is a tremendous weight and, again, heavy accenting
that underline this first transformation of the theme. The
faster variations, such as 6, 7, 10 and especially 16 and
23, are flung out with thrilling, devil-may-care virtuosity
that is undeniably exciting but may not please everyone.
Brendel takes a more intellectually measured, long term view
and fits these quicker sections into a broader canvas, as
does his protégé William Kinderman on his impressive Hyperion
version, now re-issued on bargain Helios. But I have to say
I love Demidenko’s attitude here, as if he’s demonstrating
how Beethoven would have shocked his audience with his treatment
of the waltz. He is suitably bluff in variation 9, misses
none of the intentional wit and irony in the ‘Figaro’ variation
(22) and captures the full splendour of the Handelian fugue
in number 32. It may also be Demidenko’s famous Chopin credentials
at work, but I had never realised just how Chopinesque variation
31 sounded, its elaborate arabesque figurations emerging
like some long-lost nocturne. Of course, some of the slower
variations are very slow, particularly number 20,
where we seem suspended in a temporal vacuum, but it really
does point up the contrast of the presto and allegro
con brio variations either side of it.
Having
lived with this for a few weeks now, I have to say I am deeply
impressed. The work has many superb stereo versions in the
catalogue – three from Brendel, the already-mentioned Kinderman,
Benjamin Frith also on budget price, Kovacevich, whom Demidenko
most closely resembles, the list goes on – but this Russian
master is as good as any I can think of. He also throws in
a wonderfully light and elegant performance of the tiny,
delightful F sharp sonata for good measure. Another point
of interest is his instrument, a brightly voiced but wonderfully
rich Fazioli. A number of top-class pianists are using these
splendid Italian pianos, among them Angela Hewitt, Stephen
Hough and Piers Lane, and its tonal qualities fully support
Demidenko’s approach to the work, with super-soft pianissimos
offset by bold, massive chordal sonorities, all beautifully
captured by the ASV engineers. The venue does have a fairly
resonant acoustic but is perfectly acceptable. Throw in Ates
Orga’s original, quasi-philosophical notes and you have a
release of outstanding interest to both pianophiles and lovers
of this wild, occasionally wacky, astonishing masterpiece.
Tony Haywood
Nikolai Demidenko
(piano)
