Antoine Rebstein is
a young concert pianist who, as the
result of an ailing right hand, has
been forced to re-invent himself as
a performer of works for the left hand
alone. Approaching what for many would
be the end of a career as a "rebirth",
Rebstein describes his newly discovered
repertoire as containing ‘jewels that
I never expected to exist.’ The booklet
also interestingly goes into some of
the technical demands of left-handed
pianism. ‘It’s necessary to teach the
thumb to sing’ says Rebstein, and this,
added to the lack of the balance which
is normally provided by the right hand
which adds to the difficulty of performing
such works, which are usually written
with the aim of sounding like pieces
for two hands.
Starting with the Bach
Chaconne, one of the most demanding
pieces for any instrument - I once recorded
a version for flute, and lost nearly
half a stone in the attempt - Rebstein
lays his cards out very challengingly
from the start. We all know the Busoni
version, but Brahms’s left hand arrangement
has been a discovery for me. It follows
the original quite faithfully in structure
and dynamics, and is of course closer
to the violin version than Busoni’s,
with the spreading of chords and violinistic
leaps well suited to single-handed piano
performance. Once one has cleared ones
head of the expected extremes of drama
and bombast in the Busoni, this lighter
version wins in musicality what the
other gains in sheer pianistic virtuosity.
Rebstein plays his Bach in clear and
unforced terms – no ‘Beast with Five
Fingers’ melodramatic nightmares here!
Saint-Saëns’ Studies
op. 135 lead on well from the Bach,
with many of the pieces making use of
Baroque style counterpoint and dance
titles such as Bourée and
Gigue. With the extended, romantic
Elégie as an exception,
most of these pieces are fairly light
musically, if, as might be expected
from a set of Studies, fairly demanding
in technical terms. Rebstein’s playing
is effortless throughout, and the following
Sonatina is another technical
showcase. Most will be aware
of Dinu Lipatti as a brilliant and tragically
short-lived pianist, but he composed
with equal ease. This piece was written
for one hand due to a lack of music
paper at his parent’s isolated home
during the summer of 1941. A charming
Andante espressivo is framed
by two Allegro movements, the
first developing from rolling, moto-perpetuo
notes rising from the bass, the second
possessing a quirky Gallic character.
Scriabin’s works for
left hand have their origins in the
kind of silly student challenge which
seem to have been a feature of Russian
musical education; Richter told of similar
escapades. Having damaged his right
thumb while trying to study Liszt’s
Reminiscences of Don Juan in
the shortest possible time, he consoled
himself by writing an elegiac and introverted
Prelude, and, no doubt warming
to the task, the more powerfully conceived
Nocturne, which recalls Lisztian
pianistic heroism mixed with the melancholic
meditative style familiar in Scriabin’s
early style.
Taking us beyond the
Russian soul-searching of Scriabin,
Schulhoff’s Suite more immediately
recalls the perfumed romanticism of
Debussy in its opening Preludio.
A plangent Air is followed
by a fearsome Zingara which resonates
with a percussive Bartokian folk-flavour.
The Improvisatione is ethereal
and enigmatic, leaving us much profundity
on which to ponder, and the Finale
returns us to Debussian territory,
almost, but not quite breaking into
a gruff Cakewalk.
Godowsky’s Symphonic
Metamorphoses provide a fitting
conclusion to this well-filled disc,
it’s exploration of Strauss’s famous
waltz being every bit as demanding as
the Bach over its extended duration.
This is an immensely
enjoyable recital disc. Antoine Rebstein
succeeds in making us forget that his
performances are single-handed. With
graceful pianism and musicianship he
guides us through a well thought-out
programme of interesting and substantial
repertoire, unlikely to find much duplication
in most libraries. The recording, as
you might expect from the now not unfamiliar
Salle de Musique in La Chaux-de-Fonds,
is gorgeously detailed and resonant
– both atmospheric and analytical at
the same time. I warmly recommend this
issue to collectors of piano CDs, Hi-Fi
buffs and explorers of new repertoire
alike.
Dominy Clements
Antoine Rebstein (piano) 
