To me, there is always
something special about good live recordings
- good live piano recordings in particular.
There’s always that slight sense of
danger provided by the public: the perversity
of audience members who can be guaranteed
to explode during the quiet bits. These
recordings have plenty of thumps and
coughs, but the magic of Schubert, and
the magical musicianship of Brendel
make up for having missed all of these
fine concerts.
Fascinating comparisons
are now possible for those who already
possess Brendel’s studio recordings
on Philips. The live recording of D784
predates Brendel’s 1987 studio version,
but direct comparison immediately reveals
more life and fire in the live performance:
you feel the heavy funereal tread in
the repeated two-note motif, contrasting
all the more with those truncated, strangely
stressful lyrical passages. 4:10 into
track one there’s a terrific bang from
somewhere in the hall – magnificent!
It is so nice to hear that German audiences
can be as badly behaved as British ones.
Timings for the second Andante
movement are similar, and for the final
Allegro vivace identical with
the studio recording, but again, the
sense of drama and extremes of contrast
are so much greater in the live performance.
From what I have heard of other recordings
in the studio set, this would appear
to be the trend, so those who already
have Philips’ earlier issues need not
fear a mere duplication of the studio
performances with coughs and sneezes
added.
For live performances
of D840 it’s tempting to turn to Richter’s
remarkable 1979 recording, but with
Richter managing to extend the first
movement to 22:35 and Brendel coming
in at 12:11 it’s like reading Eco’s
‘The Name of the Rose’ and then watching
the film version immediately afterwards.
Brendel is brisk, and resists all those
bizarre rhythmic distortions, but while
again exploring the extremes of dynamic
range he seems to push the piano to
its limits in some passages. Compared
to Uchida, his Andante might
be felt to lack a little of the poetic
potential of this movement – he seems
less able to find that treasured ‘innig’
quality, but at the same time his performance
also lacks pretension in what is after
all one of Schubert’s lighter movements
in this set.
With the opening of
D894 Brendel completely reveals the
sometimes elusive narrative quality
in Schubert, taking us on the start
of this incredible musical journey in
the first fifty seconds in a way which,
like the opening paragraph of a good
novel, hooks you good and proper. Uchida
is of course beautiful here as well,
but somehow flat and matter-of-fact
in comparison. Brendel teases with subtle
rubatos within the tempo, effortlessly
transporting the listener into new worlds
and leading us down paths where expectations
are challenged – glimpses held forth
and equally withheld and extended beyond
reach and resolution to great effect.
Brendel is on top form throughout this
sonata, revelling both in its lyricism
and the directness of its uncomplicated
musical message, hitting us with Schubert’s
searching melodies and harmonic brilliance
where the music demands, singing, dancing
– having the occasional joke – it’s
as if Schubert himself is standing at
Brendel’s shoulder. At no point did
I feel the need to seek alternative
interpretations – this is very much
‘the real thing’.
Turning to disc two,
and The Maltings acoustic immediately
kicks in to raise the sonic stakes for
D959. Murray Perahia and Radu Lupu’s
legendary Fantasia D940 (CBS/Sony) was
recorded here after all, so expectations
are high, and are not disappointed.
The piano sound here is warmer and more
welcoming than in the Austrian radio
recordings on disc one, while in no
way lacking in detail. Making a comparison
with Murray Perahia’s own recent Sony
recordings of these late sonatas I find
Brendel somehow more connected to the
emotional content of the music. Perahia
is magnificent in pointing out line
and counterpoint, but, while I wouldn’t
accuse him of turning the piece into
an etude, Brendel is in there with moments
which melt your ears or have you gritting
your teeth with angst. Jorge Bolet’s
1990 (Decca) recording comes closer
to Brendel’s in this regard and Uchida
is also tough to beat as well, but I
kept returning to Snape, and each time
was reassured to find Brendel’s ventricle-clenching
grip on this music’s inherent power
and intensity reasserted: like Bernstein
conducting Brahms, Brendel never lets
go, and I for one am grateful to Philips
for giving us the chance to experience
such musical monuments.
For a long time, D960
for me was Valery Afanassiev, also very
live and on ECM. Like Richter, Afanassiev
is full of compelling Russian eccentricity,
and such recordings will always be able
to live comfortably side by side on
the shelf, possessing reflections on
moods and memories which exist nowhere
else. It’s a shame that Brendel’s piano
sounds thinner and more distant than
in The Maltings, but the ear soon becomes
accustomed to the Festival Hall acoustic.
For some reason the audience noise is
more irritating here than in the other
recordings – probably because the extended
quieter passages are so eloquent and
demanding of one’s attention, any distraction
is multiplied and magnified. Brendel
is commanding however, and falters not.
Interpretations vary
widely, and, while I’m not that interested
in timings it is interesting to make
some comparisons – these are for the
first movement of D960:
Afanassiev 22.44
Uchida 21:53
Horowitz (DG rec.1986) 19:13
Perahia 19:00
Brendel 15:05
Brendel makes a convincing
case for his shorter timing. There are
moments in this movement where time
seems almost to stand still, and he
in no way glosses over them. I suspect
that he is probably closer to Schubert’s
intentions in gathering his material
into a relatively concise whole, refusing
to be drawn into that artificial aura
of awe and reverence which can dominate
a performance. No one version of D960
can really be said to be ‘perfect’ and
I certainly shall not be putting any
of my other discs onto Ebay as a result
of hearing Brendel, but I do know that
this is one of the recordings to which
I shall be referring most often in the
near future. Taking the second Andante
sostenuto movement, Brendel allows
the in-built ‘Sostenuto’ to speak for
itself, and allows the mind easier access
to Schubert’s musical narrative and
structural logic by not turning the
piece into too much of a musical prayer,
by not trying to make it last forever.
This issue is one of
those life-enhancing things which I
think we are all seeking, and so rarely
find when we clatter through the shelves
in our local CD shop. It can never be
all things to all people, but I find
myself asking the question; what’s not
to like here? So, there is audience
noise – but you just do not find
this kind of atmosphere, drama and excitement
in studio recordings. So, the locations
vary – but the piano sound is always
good, and it is in many ways more interesting
to be transported from one concert hall
to another – it’s like being ‘on tour
with Brendel’. At a smidge over 155
minutes there can certainly be no complaints
about duration, and just think – counting
the cost of all those concert tickets
(not to mention planes, trains and taxis)
just imagine the money you will have
saved by buying this set – as
you surely must.
Dominy Clements
Alfred Brendel (piano) 
