There can never
too many Neuhaus discs on the market. His rugged and direct
profundity of spirit survives the reduced sonics of Moscow recordings
with unassailable conviction. That he was dubbed the “philosopher
pianist” was not necessarily a wise thing, though neither is
it a reason to reject the nobility and elevation of his playing
as somehow too rarefied or lacking in nuance. Neither is remotely
true.
His Tempest Sonata is a splendid example
of the implacable strength of his approach. Recorded in 1946
by which time he was fifty-eight it’s certainly not note perfect
by any means. But such matters as the dropped notes in the opening
movement are of little account when measured against the sense
of engagement with the music that Neuhaus stakes out. There
is no sense of externalised music making in a performance such
as this, simply an accumulated concentration on what Neuhaus
locates as the music’s essence - conveyed in a way that can
be terse and maybe even clipped, but that rewards the listener
with the gravity and depth of the understanding.
The Scriabin Preludes
- we have five of the Op.11 recorded in Moscow in 1946 – are
beautifully balanced and nuanced performances. They stand at
a refined remove from the galvanic and kinetic dynamism engendered
by Sofronitsky in this repertoire but are valuably appealing
documents in their own right. The D major is perhaps the most
sheerly beautifully in its rounded warmth.
The earliest recordings
here are the two Chopin Mazurkas, made in 1938. Not only are
they notably vivid performances but they announce, as it were,
the matter of the Gauk-led 1951 E minor concerto recording.
As with all these performances here the Concerto has appeared
before on CD - I last reviewed it in the context of a compilation
by Classical Record CR 057 and a reprise of that review might
be appropriate. I can certainly imagine the objections to this
recording. How can one live with the constricted sound, why
are the fiddles so stringy, why is the piano so splintery, where
do its ornaments disappear to, how can one live with the lack
of clarity and definition between sections and orchestral choirs,
or the uniformity of recording levels...and so on. But given
the intractable engineering problems we might as well listen
to the aristocratic Neuhaus, abetted by Gauk, to whom someone,
perhaps in my lifetime, will devote an edition or two.
So let's admit the
limitations and then admire the playing. Delicate filigree,
dynamics we will for the most part have to take on trust, beautiful
elegance, a vocalised intimacy of projection; these are the
things that make one listen through and beyond surface limitations.
In the second movement we can add to the list pliancy and pellucid
phrasing and in the finale wit: that and Neuhaus's control over
elasticity of phrase lengths - all splendid. So, yes, the wind
counter-themes in the finale are only just about audible and
the fruitful exchanges between soloist and orchestra are perforce
muted. But it's for Neuhaus we have come and it's for Neuhaus
we will stay. His refined pianism, his rapt pianissimi (dynamic
levels permitting), the feathery intimacy of his phrasing, the
delicate gradations of touch and tone…all these things stay
permanently in the mind.
APR’s notes are
fine and their transfers deal well with some of the more difficult
and constricted Soviet recordings.
Jonathan Woolf
Heinrich Neuhaus
(piano) 
