Piatigorsky has been 
                bedevilled, at least in the United Kingdom, 
                by a somewhat high-powered, "transatlantic" 
                image deriving, perhaps, from his collaborations 
                with Heifetz, Rubinstein and also Primrose. 
                The outer movements of the Saint-Saëns, 
                which he and Reiner seem agreed to drive 
                as hard as they can, do not belie this 
                view, yet grace and warmth are to be 
                found later on. 
              
 
              
A torso of the 
                Dvořák concerto (just the first 
                movement) survives from a concert given 
                in 1932 under Nikolai Malko and can 
                be heard on Danacord. It reveals a powerful 
                personality and a very free style of 
                interpretation. Yet his only pre-war 
                studio recording of a concerto, 
                the Schumann included here, is quite 
                different; straightforward and musicianly, 
                it failed to capture my imagination. 
                Why? 
              
 
              
The work itself is 
                not without its problems. While any 
                pianist dealing in the romantic period 
                is likely to number the Schumann concerto 
                for piano among his favourites, cellists 
                perhaps find some difficulty in cherishing 
                it as dearly as the Dvořák 
                or the Elgar, and may even prefer the 
                innocent charm of Saint-Saëns no. 1. 
                Yet it need not sound as bland as here. 
                Casting around for alternatives I find 
                I have only off-the-air versions; however, 
                these did help to clarify a few things 
                in my mind. First of all, a few 
                timings: 
              
 
              
Caramia/Celibidache, 
                Naples 1968			23:07 
              
Piatigorsky/Barbirolli				24:37 
                 
              
Navarra/Caracciolo, 
                Naples 1961			24:54 
              
Fournier/Somogyi, Milan 
                1963				25:21 
              
Mainardi/Kurtz, Rome 
                1961				25:51 
              
 
              
I apologise to readers 
                for discussing performances they cannot 
                hear, though recordings were certainly 
                made by Navarra (with Ančerl, 
                which should be interesting) and Fournier 
                (I wonder if no-nonsense Sir Malcolm 
                Sargent gave him as much space as Laszlo 
                Somogyi?).  
              
 
              
The first thing that 
                emerges is that performances do not 
                actually differ all that much as far 
                as tempi are concerned. It is curious 
                to find that the swiftest version is 
                conducted by Celibidache but since the 
                admirable Giacinto Caramia doesn’t command 
                the same range of dynamics and nuance 
                as the others (he did some excellent 
                work as a chamber musician), the conductor 
                was probably happy to abet him in a 
                flowing version with a particularly 
                dashing finale. 
              
 
              
The next point is that 
                the faster performances – Caramia, Piatigorsky 
                and Navarra – fail to convince us that 
                Schumann is not on automatic pilot. 
                The extra time taken by Fournier and 
                Mainardi may not seem to amount to much, 
                and yet the former, with his intimate 
                tonal shading, and perhaps even more 
                the latter with his autumnal, dark-brown 
                tone, illuminate so many dark corners 
                of the work and bring them to light. 
              
 
              
My final point is that, 
                while Mainardi in some ways penetrates 
                most deeply of all, there is evidence 
                that he is teetering on the verge of 
                the slowest possible tempi the work 
                will take. This is particularly noticeable 
                when the orchestra takes over. Efrem 
                Kurtz loyally avoids trying to move 
                things on, but he sometimes seems to 
                find the textures hard to fill at this 
                speed. I wonder if a recording exists 
                anywhere of Mainardi with his long-term 
                partner Carlo Zecchi, something of a 
                specialist in filling slow tempi? 
              
 
              
The impression of an 
                admirable cellist who fails to engage 
                me deeply continued with the encores. 
                Elegantly musical, they fall between 
                the two stools, neither ennobling the 
                flimsier pieces (something Heifetz could 
                do on the violin) nor making them succeed 
                in spite of themselves by sheer charm 
                and personality (the Kreisler way). 
                As Ignaz Friedmann showed, with the 
                original piano version, Rubinstein’s 
                tawdry Romance in E flat can be 
                made to say something, but you have 
                to do far more than just play it neatly 
                and nicely. Tchaikovsky’s "None 
                but the lonely heart" is usually 
                heartbreaking, however often you hear 
                it, but here it flows too easily, the 
                dramatic interruption of the climax 
                going for nothing. The Schubert is rather 
                horrible, both cellist and pianist chunkily 
                refusing to engage with the composer’s 
                pained lyricism. 
              
 
              
I don’t want to suggest 
                that Piatigorsky’s place among the great 
                cellists is undeserved, but I fear the 
                evidence is to be sought elsewhere. 
                The recordings are fairly good for their 
                age, particularly the Schumann which 
                doesn’t sound 16 years older than the 
                Saint-Saëns, so it’s no good blaming 
                it on them. 
              
 
               
              
Christopher Howell 
              
see also review 
                by Glyn Pursglove and Jonathan 
                Woolf