The re-release of Gieseking’s recordings
on Naxos was welcome news. I had heard
much of his legendary powers and of
the aprocryphal legend of his ability
to study scores. The story remains in
circulation that, during a long train
journey before a concert in the United
States, Herr Gieseking stayed in his
stateroom berth reading through the
score without the benefit of a piano.
On arrival at his destination, he was
able to perform the piece for the audience.
While such a method would be a sure-fire
way for me to fail at presenting a piece,
a performer of Gieseking’s stature may
well have been able to make it work.
It remains to be confirmed whether this
actually happened.
Those familiar with Gieseking likely
know him primarily for his Debussy and
his Beethoven sonata recordings. We
have here a war-era performance and
two pre-war events, an era before he
honed down his repertoire.
The Grieg concerto had been recorded
by Gieseking more than once; this is
the earlier performance from 1937. From
the outset, one realizes that Gieseking
isn’t going for a flashy or indulgent
approach. He hurries through the opening
tumbling octaves almost as if to be
over and done with them. The rest of
the first movement isn’t quite so off-hand,
but sentiment is obviously not a major
focus of this performance. Here Gieseking
focuses on narrative line. Even with
the Cadenza, there is little rubato
— the music is stated simply and in
a matter-of-fact way.
Others used to a more schmaltzed-up
approach in the slow movement may find
this reading more practical-minded than
they’d like. Gieseking sticks to his
narrative approach with little emphasis
on effect, especially in those last
trills before the Allegro moderato
e molto marcato. The jagged stabbing
of the orchestra after the upward run
at the beginning of the finale may be
distracting. The liner notes mention
in a quoted contemporary review, Gieseking’s
“piano tone [is] likely to carry the
day” and “in the finale, the soloist
again seeks firm outlines, not spurts
and jerks. The band might have jigged
at bit more. It is rather stiff-rhythmed.”
They certainly could have, in my opinion
these many years further on. Throughout
the work, both soloist and ensemble
appear to hurry through or gloss over
the moments that make this such a popular
and enjoyable piece. Certainly there
are various aspects of it that get overlooked
in an overly conventional or sentimental
reading, but to these ears, the insistence
on focusing on other aspects tends to
make the performance here rather dry
and humourless. While the Grieg concerto
isn’t known for its drollery, the flavour
of certain passages certainly could
be savoured more.
The Schumann is an altogether more joyous-sounding
affair, with sprightliness in its finale.
A performance of the work exists with
this soloist under the baton of Furtwängler
with the Berlin Philharmonic. This,
recorded at approximately the same time,
is a studio recording. Both of those
performances of this piece were rarer
than the more easily-found 1953 recording
Gieseking made with Karajan and the
Philharmonia.
For the Franck we have more warmth and
liquidity than previously experienced
with the Grieg. This being the oldest
recording on the disc by five years,
the sound is drier, with a bit of brittleness
in the strings, but the piano comes
through well. Like the Grieg and the
Schumann, this piece, too, was recorded
more than once by Gieseking — a more
frequently seen performance perhaps
was the 1951 recording he made with
Karajan and the Philharmonia. I enjoy
this 1932 recording more than the others
on offer here, but must admit that it
would not rank among my favourites.
The restoration of these recordings
no doubt was painstaking and, considering
their age, the sound carries through
well on a living room system. Overall,
I am glad to have been able to hear
these performances, but find them a
bit too coolly-delivered to win me over.
David Blomenberg
see also review
by David Dunsmore
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Walter Gieseking
(piano) 
