This disc is a wonderful way to showcase Leif Ove Andsnes’ pianistic
talents in contemporary music; not a genre usually associated
with him. It is much more than just an exercise in virtuosity,
though it takes a real virtuoso to make these at times knotty
works sound as spontaneous as they do here. The program is well
balanced, too, beginning and ending with solo pieces by the Dane
Bent Sørensen that frame two major piano concertos. Eight
selections from Kurtág’s continuing series of miniature “games,” forms
the disc’s midpoint. Not all the works presented are of
equal quality, though. I found the two Sorensen pieces rather
slight in comparison with the other works and have not completely
made up my mind about Dalbavie’s Piano Concerto. There
is no doubt, however, that Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto
and the Kurtág
Játékok selections
are masterpieces that have gained a foothold in the late twentieth-century
repertoire.
Of the two Sørensen works, the short Lullabies seem to
me the more successful in creating a sense of nostalgia. They
are based on melodies that followed the composer around and that
he used in some of his other, more substantial compositions.
The
Shadows of Silence begins with the continuous ringing
of high-pitched bells that Sørensen heard in his head
after a concert of church bells. Shadows combine with the bells
as the piano reaches to the lowest depths of its range and becomes
increasingly louder. The work continues with quiet chords and
a quasi-Romantic melody, as the pianist hums along with the music,
and concludes with a recurrence of the bells. Interesting in
concept, but a bit too long for its material.
The Kurtág selections “suffer” from the opposite
tendency: one wishes they would go on a bit longer. Still, like
Webern, they have a lot to say in a little space. There is not
a single wasted note and they are very colorful. The first one
presented here does indeed recall Stravinsky’s
Petrushka,
while some of the others evoke Kurtág’s compatriot
Ligeti and remind one of his Etudes:
Sirens of the Deluge.
Andsnes leaves nothing to be desired in his scintillating accounts
of these pieces. It would be great if he recorded more of them.
The two big works on the disc, the concertos by Dalbavie and
Lutosławski could not be more different from one another.
The Lutosławski has already established itself in the repertoire
of a number of enterprising pianists and has received at least
several fine recordings. I compared Andsnes’ performance
with those by the concerto’s dedicatee Krystian Zimerman
with the composer conducting (DG) and Paul Crossley with Esa-Pekka
Salonen (Sony). All three pianists do real justice to the music,
but approach it in individual ways. The concerto is typical late
Lutosławski, where he plays down the aleatoric elements
in favor of more traditional influences. Although one would not
mistake the work for anyone other than the composer, there are
shades of Rachmaninoff in some of the larger, Romantic gestures,
Ravel in the jewel-like mechanisms, and Bartók in the
bold rhythmic patterns. If anything, Zimerman brings out the
Romantic elements, while Crossley invokes Ravel more. With Andsnes,
on the other hand, one senses the Bartókian rhythms uppermost.
Interestingly, Andsnes’ account is almost a minute faster
than the other two. I do not want to over-emphasize these differences,
as all three pianists are true to Lutosławski and all are
partnered expertly. At the end of the day, one’s choice
should rest more with the respective discs’ accompanying
material. Both Zimerman and Crossley are on all-Lutosławski
programs, with the former having the authoritative conducting
of the composer - and a fine interpreter of his own music - while
the latter has the advantage of including Dawn Upshaw’s
wonderful performance of the
Chantefleurs et Chantefables song
cycle. For all lovers of superb pianism and fans of Andsnes,
though, this performance is hard to beat.
The Dalbavie Piano Concerto took longer for me to like, and I
am not sure how I would rate it among modern concertos. It was
co-commissioned by the BBC Proms and the Cleveland Orchestra
and premiered by its dedicatee as here. Dalbavie belongs to the
compositional school, if one label it as such, of “spectralism,” a
term coined by Hugues Dufourt in 1979. According to Roger Thomas’s
notes in the booklet accompanying the disc, the term is “more
of an attitude than a specific formula. Based on psychoacoustics,
spectralism proposes a central reference point within a composition
to which all other musical events occurring in the piece can
be related.” Dalbavie is more concerned with the actual
sounds of the instruments, their timbre, than with the notes
or harmonies, themselves. After a few hearings, I found more
in the work than just repeated scales and octaves, but those
play a major role throughout the concerto and at times can seem
too much of a good thing. Effective use of the lower brass, especially
the vivid glissandi, adds needed color to the score. Only time
will tell if the concerto has greater secrets to reveal. At any
rate, it is doubtful that anyone could do better justice to it
than Andsnes. As in the Lutosławski, Welser-Möst and
the Bavarian Radio Orchestra provide expert accompaniment.
No matter how slight, or how profound, the music on this CD is,
Andsnes treats it with equal respect. His virtuosity is always
at the service of the composer and not the other way around.
The disc is likely to appeal especially, then, to all pianophiles
interested in repertoire that is somewhat off the beaten path.
Leslie Wright
Leif Ove Andsnes (piano) 
