Leif Ove Andsnes has received well deserved recognition for his
recordings of music from this period, with David Barker and others
highly enthused by the recent quintet
recordings to which he has contributed. This coupling of the
Piano Sonata No.1 and Fantasie Op.17
has been around for a while now, and this re-release is a welcome one.
This
recording was nominated for the 1998 Grammy Award for "Best Instrumental
Soloist Performance (without Orchestra)", and I can hear
why. Andsnes projects power and excitement in the Allegro
vivace of the opening movement, and has a way with the elegant
singing lines of the Aria. This movement can sometimes
become something of a salon dirge, but Andsnes keeps our feet
well off the ground and leads a succession of romantic colours
through the imagination. Twitchy nerves infuse the quasi-dance
of the Scherzo e intermezzo, the width of the keyboard
and dynamics being stretched further than usual. Andsnes’ Finale
is more Allegro than un poco maestoso, but
the dignity of the music shines through even while the hammers
of the piano are being pounded for all they are worth.
I
have to admit, my main interest in this disc was for the marvellous
Fantasie Op.17, and Andsnes doesn’t let
me down. This is one of those romantic pieces where the synthesis
of art, poetry and spiritual and emotional life in general seems
to come together with a feeling of inevitability and absolute
logic, as if it had been in the air all the time and just needed
discovering and capturing. Schumann was the one to catch this
sensibility, and both he and the pianist here are uncompromising
and unsentimental, demanding and delivering utmost technical
quality and the kind of cathartic ride which is rarely found
anywhere on record. The second movement is another tour de force,
with very little standing between the listener and the cliff
edge of Schumann’s passionate message. This is tough stuff,
but that’s what I like about it – mighty and distinctly unfeminine,
and only macho and ‘OTT’ if that’s the way you chose to respond
to it. The final Langsam getragen movement may redress
the balance if you feel somewhat bashed around by Andsnes’ weight
in the previous movements. Not quite ethereal, he does however
have a sensitivity of touch which brings out the warm expressiveness
in this remarkable extended song-like finale.
There
is competition in this repertoire, and both Sviatoslav Richter
on EMI and Maurizio Pollini on Deutsche Grammophon are hot tickets
in their recordings of the Fantasie, the latter having
the same coupling with the Sonata No.1. I personally like
Andsnes’ direct and frank account of the Fantasie when compared
with Pollini’s more literal and arguably more refined accuracy.
While I can respect those who prefer the latter, I would urge
all Schumann fans to have a go with this recording as well. I
had a listen to Alfred Brendel’s 1982 Philips recording of the
Fantaisie as well, but didn’t prefer the rather
brittle piano sound and overly free pulling around of tempi. The
piano sound is full and closely detailed on this EMI disc, the
Brandon Hill being a little more resonant than Birmingham
but the two sessions being well matched. This is one recording
which fights against banal candle-lit consumerism and demands
attention, much as a live performance would. Being left with this
impression after a healthily high volume airing is as good a recommendation
as I can give.
Dominy Clements
Leif Ove Andsnes
(piano) 
