It's barely six months since we looked at 
Volume
                II of this outstanding series of the complete piano sonatas
                of Muzio Clementi from Howard Shelley, on Hyperion. 
                
                Once again the pianist plays a modern Steinway, which has to
                be the only minor cavil. Rather, we should happily see past that
                - to the gentle, original and - it has to be said - too infrequently
                heard music of Clementi, who was, amazingly, born a couple of
                years after Bach died, and himself died just five years after
                Schubert. That makes Clementi's music significantly advanced
                for its time… adventurous use of melody; freedoms ('liberties',
                one might almost say) with tempi, and experiments with harmony
                redolent of Mozart - the end of the allegro from the F major
                sonata (Opus 13, no. 5) [CD1 tr.4], for example. 
                
                But Shelley is just as alert to the essence of the music as a
                beautiful artefact almost regardless of the ground it was breaking
                and written to please the predominantly London audiences who
                first heard it during a time when most of the rest of Europe
                was experiencing political and social change. That is, the pianist
                brings a gentleness and peace, a serenity, to the sonatas - chiefly
                by being ever conscious of the structure of each one. 
                
                Ever aware of the, often sombre, mood of these works too, Shelley
                has totally absorbed them in such a way that their presence is
                felt as much when they're over as it is when being listened to.
                Such 'moods' are less pronounced than those in Haydn's 
Sturm
                und Drang works - and decidedly more tempered than even middle
                Beethoven. But not so detached as Mozart's darker passages. 
                
                This emotional charge is hard to communicate without centring
                on, say, key changes - much of Clementi's more persuasive piano
                writing is in minor keys - or places where the composer dwells
                on a colourful idea. Instead, Shelley achieves these expressive
                affects by concentrating on the architecture. By playing, one
                is tempted to say, as Clementi might have played; by stopping
                well short of disregarding the emotions which he knew he had
                put into the sonatas; and assuming that we all know sadness,
                joy, loss and so on sufficiently well for nothing to need labouring.
                To achieve such a distance yet retain as much style as Shelley
                does is remarkable - and contributes to the many reasons why
                this release must be so highly thought of. 
                
                But his approach is not relaxed; nor 'easy-going'; still less
                lazy. Shelley remains in command at all times and is certainly
                'driving' the music. He has made it his own, seems to have done
                so more than in the previous two volumes of this series. But
                not in the sense that his own performing repertoire is so broad
                that he can look at Clementi askance. Rather because he is completely
                aware that the music's internal logic and development make certain
                demands on a sensitive pianist - and Shelley is up to every such
                demand. 
                
                Again, for example, the variations in tempi that Shelley employs
                in that same sonata's (Op. 13/5) presto [CD.1 tr 6] indicate
                a confidence not to impose his will onto music that doesn't need
                it. Generally, Shelley is happy to shine light in corners that
                might otherwise be missed - by judicious use of rallentando,
                for example. Such skill is noticeable as the extremely light
                touch in passages such as the middle of the largo of the F minor
                (Op. 13, no. 6) [CD.1 tr.8]. It confers a delicacy on the music
                that one associates as much with Uchida's or Brendel's late Schubert.
                It also hints at the personal turmoil through which the composer
                passed during the years in which these sonatas were written -
                but without hanging their musical impact on it. 
                
                The Op. 13 sonatas (published in May 1785) are so arranged here
                that we move from the good to the better to the best: number
                6 is remarkable in more ways than one. But the two that follow
                (the Op. 20, Without Op. 3) have much in them to please. Those,
                and the Opp. 23 and 24 on the second CD were written when - for
                whatever reason - Clementi seems to have put the traumas of his
                love affair and unhappy travels in Europe during 1780-83 behind
                him and was allowing the London musical scene to sweep him into
                some sort of order and routine. The music, though, is anything
                but routine. Once more, Shelley effortlessly gets to its essence
                in every way. 
                
                The recording is plain and clean, where by 'plain' is meant that
                nothing interferes acoustically with the sound of the piano.
                The liner-notes are informative, and the double CD represents
                good value for money. If you've been waiting for this third volume
                happy or enthralled with the other two, don't hesitate to buy
                it. If you're new to the repertoire and wonder if this series
                really represents the landmark it seems to, be assured on the
                evidence of this volume alone that it does. 
                
                
Mark Sealey