This 
                  is the sixth recording by Santa Barbara-based pianist Zeynep 
                  Ucbasaran. I have reviewed them all for MusicWeb and have found 
                  her work, developing from a slightly timid first offering, increasingly 
                  interesting. This, her second Mozart disc, seems to me to represent 
                  a further step along the line (link 
                  to previous Mozart review).
                Zeynep 
                  – since her first name appears everywhere in capitals and her 
                  second in small letters I shall gratefully take the hint to 
                  use this more easily remembered first name – has gathered together 
                  three of Mozart’s more anomalous sonatas. The F major is a composite 
                  work, two late movements combined for publication with a revised 
                  version of an earlier Rondo. Still, the three movements seem 
                  to fit. The E flat is the only Mozart sonata to begin with a 
                  full-scale slow movement. The Adagio-Minuet-Finale pattern was 
                  more likely in Haydn, but it draws from Mozart one of the most 
                  beautiful of his earlier slow movements. The D major is the 
                  only Mozart sonata which ends with a set of variations. The 
                  sheer length of this movement – almost 17 minutes in this by 
                  no means slow performance – has discouraged performers from 
                  programming a work which hogs half the programme. They may also 
                  have been puzzled by the central “Rondeau en Polonaise” which 
                  is rather static and over-ornate.
                Zeynep’s 
                  playing has always been unfailingly musical, but I find more 
                  temperament here than previously. The recording itself is big 
                  and bold and transferred at a rather high level, creating an 
                  initial impression of a degree of aggressiveness. Certainly, 
                  Zeynep makes the most of every piano/forte contrast, but once 
                  I had attuned to this I found it all to the good in Mozart works 
                  that need a degree of sales-talk. If you prefer a more Olympian, 
                  sublime approach you may prefer the late Haebler cycle on Denon 
                  or, as this is not easy to obtain, de Larrocha on RCA may be 
                  a fair substitute. I might prefer this approach in the calm 
                  opening Adagio of K.282 where Zeynep’s staccato left-hand semiquavers 
                  (16th notes) were not much to my taste, but elsewhere 
                  I appreciated the immediacy of communication Zeynep finds. The 
                  first two movements of the F major sonata get an emotional weight 
                  they can easily bear.
                Zeynep 
                  is signally successful in the long variation movement of the 
                  D major work. If Haebler tries to disguise the length by making 
                  it as simply beautiful as possible, Zeynep goes one better by 
                  making it all as interesting as possible. Without distortion, 
                  she finds maximum characterization in each variation, at times 
                  making them seem blueprints for some of Beethoven’s Bagatelles. 
                  The Adagio variation is played with deep feeling. For once I 
                  reached the end of this movement feeling that the prospect of 
                  hearing it again would be welcome. It was at this point that 
                  I realized that the gifted player of the earlier records is 
                  developing into a pianist of some stature. I wonder if she might 
                  now record some of the Mozart concertos?
                An 
                  excellent recommendation, then, for three of Mozart’s rarer 
                  sonatas played with real conviction.
                Christopher 
                  Howell