It was with Liszt that the pianist Lazar
Berman was most associated, but as Danilo Prefumo remarks
in his notes for this release, he was not entirely happy with
being considered ‘merely a Liszt interpreter’. The works on this
re-mastered recording from a recital in Milan in 1972 are indeed
not pieces which would be the first choice of a pianist keen on
showing just technical fireworks, and show Berman as equal to
any of his peers in gazing beyond and into one of Schubert’s most
extended poetic statements.
Nothing is said
about the concert from which this recording was made, which
is a shame. I’m not sure if it was any kind of special occasion,
but Berman certainly made it one through his playing. Thinking
of Richter and Afanassiev, Russian pianists can have an eccentric
and/or special way with Schubert, but Berman’s interpretation
of the D960 Sonata is in fact reasonably ‘straight’ – expressive
rather than excessive. If I were to compare this recording to
a reasonably familiar modern recording then I suppose that of
Alfred Brendel would be a fairly close parallel, though to those
for whom Brendel’s Schubert is less satisfying I wouldn’t want
to do Berman any disservice. What I mean is that Berman largely
seeks the expressive intimacy through the inner qualities in
the music, rather than imposing extra-musical features to ‘make
a point’. His tempi are in no way extreme. The long melodies
of the first movement sing through with some sensitive rubato
moulding of the shapes and undulations in the music, and the
sense of darkness and light is a strong feature throughout.
The Sostenuto element in that incredible second movement
seems to grow in power as the music progresses, as after a less
imposing exposition the theme moves steadily into a darker and
more truly funereal place, and even the major modulations in
the middle are wreath-strewn and grief ridden. The delicacy
of the third movement is a joy, but the drama in the final Allegro
is tremendous, with Berman relishing the walking bas lines
and, despite some slips, the more pianistic writing through
the ff climaxes. The tumult toward the end of the movement
gives the impression than Berman is going more and more quickly,
but this is kept in check just enough to prevent everything
falling apart, and the excitement in the performance is that
to which the audience respond with gusto.
Those of us who
think of Muzio Clementi as a composer of light, post-Classical
or pre-Romantic sonatas may have their preconceptions bruised
and re-arranged by Berman’s performance of the Sonata in
B minor Op.40, no.2. Beethoven’s high regard for Clementi’s
compositions is a matter of record, but with the gruff splendour
which Berman gives us from this sonata shows in no uncertain
terms from where this creative relationship springs. The music
has something of Domenico Scarlatti’s wheeling rondo gestures
in its dramatic Allegro con fuoco, but in turbo form
– the modern piano turning what would have been fearsome enough
on a fortepiano into something genuinely challenging even for
today’s listeners. Both movements of this sonata begin with
delicately expressive introductions, and then burst into a froth
of remarkable and often furious activity, which Berman is again
more than happy to get his teeth and agile fingers into. There
is remarkable passagework and expressive layering aplenty here,
and piano buffs and students may well be transported into some
new worlds in this live recording.
As a live concert
there is of course the odd contribution from the audience, but
nothing too dramatic while the playing is ongoing. There are also
one on two minor slips and inaccuracies from Berman, but the force
of the musical arguments take one beyond such trivia with ease.
My compliments go to Danilo Prefumo for sensitive re-mastering.
The recording is decent mono, and good enough to start with, with
some rumble but only a few dips in level and some gentle distortion
when Berman’s power takes the tape by surprise. This CD gives
us as much of the colour and variety in Berman’s playing as must
be available on the original tape, and while hiss may have been
toned down to a minimum there is no sense of the treble being
restricted. While one’s perception might be that this is more
of a collector’s item for piano buffs, this disc is however recommendable
at every level of musical creativity, and is certainly of historical
interest. The label announces that the recording has been released
as a ‘Unique authorized edition with the consensus of the Berman
Family’, and I for one am grateful that we now have this fascinating
sonic document as part of the catalogue.
Dominy Clements
Lazar Berman
(piano) 
