Admirers of Solomon will know that a number of years ago APR
released a two disc set of his Berlin recitals [APR7030]. This
set replicates those performances, but for the significant addition
of the Carnaval performance.
According to Bryan Crimp’s biography, Solomon spent eight days
in Germany in February 1956. He performed the Beethoven Second
Concerto with the Berlin Philharmonic and Cluytens, and played
recitals in Detmold, Wuppertal, Hamburg and Frankfurt. Whilst
in Berlin he was taped in two broadcast performances by RIAS.
These are the surviving performances, excellently reproduced,
though quite drily recorded. Regarding the differences between
the APR and this new Audite transfer I will note that Audite’s
is reproduced at a slightly lower level than APR’s but otherwise
I don’t find any dramatic differences between them.
The recital plays to Solomon’s accustomed strengths. The Op.2
No.3 sonata is purposeful and intrepid. Solomon’s sculpting
of dynamics in the central movement is especially noteworthy;
voicings are brought out with unselfconscious definition – refined,
meditative or via the sepulchrally interjectory bass. The brilliant
clarity of his articulation is fully audible in the finale,
which is played with seemingly effortless control, but not a
trace of false urbanity. The companion Beethoven sonata is the
Moonlight. Earlier in his career Solomon had taken the
opening movement with gravely deliberate slowness. Now he had
seemingly reconciled himself to a greater sense of spine in
the music, so his tempo is several notches faster for the Adagio
sostenuto, a feature I welcome. There is still, however,
something unavoidably funereal – not ponderous – about the tempo
he adopts. The Allegretto acts as both relief from this introspection,
and also a motor for the crispness of Solomon’s playing of the
finale.
He made an admired recording of Carnaval in the summer of 1952
for Walter Legge and EMI. This live performance four years later
is, not surprisingly, similar in outline, though occasionally
it differs in detailing. What impresses yet again, however,
is the real consonance of the playing, a marrying of tonal production
and expressive control. The result is not, perhaps, the most
lavish of readings but it builds cumulatively, never allowing
incident or detail to override architecture. His Preambule
is manly, the rubati in the Valse noble splendidly realised,
and Florestan marvellously characterised.
We lack a significant body of Bach recordings from Solomon.
There are some transcriptions, a couple of Preludes and Fugues,
and one such arranged by Liszt, but the return is small from
a player so distinguished. His Italian Concerto is thus greatly
to be welcomed. There’s nothing withdrawn or sturdy about his
playing of it, with smartly etched rhythm in the outer movements
and delicate refinement in the central one. It makes one wish
he’d recorded the Goldberg Variations, or some of the French
Suites. Note the little sulphurous bass detonations in the finale,
where drive and clarity are armed together. There are three
pieces each by Chopin and Brahms to be negotiated. Of the former,
the Fantasie is elegant, musically refined, and full of dappled
control and poetic spirit. The Brahms trio include a performance
of the E major Intermezzo that enshrines introspective probity,
assured balances between the hands and no false gestures. You
seldom, if ever, got those with Solomon.
His admirers, who will probably have the APR, will now be faced
with dilemma of this previously unreleased Carnaval. There is
surprisingly little live Solomon, so my view is to go for it.
Jonathan Woolf
Solomon (piano) 
