Receiving recordings of known repertoire always sends me on
a hunt for reference recordings, and the CD of these works I’ve
had knocking around for ages is the 1995 Sony release with Yefim
Bronfman as soloist with the Los Angeles Philharmonic conducted
by Esa-Pekka Salonen. I hadn’t played this for ages, and, time
restraints aside, wondered why. It is well performed and recorded
and has many fine qualities, but lacks some kind of animal magnetism
– some of the grit and edge which is immediately apparent in
this fine disc from Chandos.
There is a small heap of different recordings to choose from
– Bartók’s piano concertos have that useful aspect of being
able to fit neatly onto one CD, and there are numerous options.
High on anyone’s list will be the classic 1959/60 recording
with Géza Anda and Ferenc Fricsay on DG Classics, which has
legendary status but is not without its flaws – the first concerto
has a few ragged edges, but the Hungarian-ness of the performances
is hard to beat and the sound quality surprisingly good. The
up-to-date DG disc with Boulez
and a variety of pianists and orchestras is also very good,
but I’m not always convinced by Boulez’s sense of absolute control
and lack of true abandonment at certain crucial moments, and
the prominence of the piano on the recorded balance can be a
bugbear – on which subject more later. Where the Bavouzet/Noseda
combination win from the start is in their sense of exuberant
fun. The lively articulation and rhythmic punch of the opening
Allegro moderato from the Piano Concerto No.1 swings
infectiously, even where the slower moods introduce different
atmospheres. The tonal texture and definition of this very fine
recording gives weight and impact to almost every instrument
which pops up. The strings are rather recessed however, though
admittedly their numbers are reduced in this concerto. When
in full flow everyone else also seems to hide behind what can
come across as a rather huge piano.
Recorded balance is often an issue with concertos, and the piano
is a bit too BIG here and elsewhere to create the illusion of
a real concert experience. This may not bother some listeners,
and I have to admit this effect is less apparent where Bavouzet’s
sensitive touch accompanies the stunningly rendered percussion
and winds in the nocturne-like central Andante. His playing
can certainly stand the spotlit treatment. You may indeed notice
the percussion more than usual in this first concerto, the musicians
complying with Bartók’s instructions to have the timpani and
percussion placed directly behind the piano in this recording.
The sonic detail is indeed something to behold, but the sheer
liveliness and energy in the playing is what leaps out of your
speakers, and the final Allegro of the first concerto
a feast of remarkable playing. The Stravinskian elements in
this music come through fleetingly but powerfully in this last
movement and the excitement is palpable, but can you tell what
the orchestra is supposed to be doing for instance between 1:45
and 1:55, or do you wonder why the winds just can’t compete
towards the end around the 6 minute mark? I don’t mean to be
picky in what is clearly a world-class performance, but I don’t
believe in an orchestra being dominated by a solo instrument
in quite this way.
The Piano Concerto No.2 is another remarkable and forcefully
convincing performance, the lighter moods conveyed with tremendous
joie de vivre, and the piano balance less of an issue throughout.
Stravinsky is overtly introduced here, with Bartók having great
fun with a speeded up version of the closing theme from the
Firebird. The musicians are also clearly having fun as
well, and this is a clincher for Noseda’s as a top performance.
The magical central Adagio is taken with an unsentimental
sense of forward momentum, the beauty of Bartók’s orchestration
and simplicity of means sufficient to create that atmosphere
of uneasy night. The final Allegro molto with its energetic
‘sabre-dance’ character is another tour-de-force, and played
with incredible vitality here.
Accuracy of inflection stand proud in the marvellously conversational
phrases from the soloist of the Allegretto of Piano
Concerto No.3, answered by an orchestra infused by resonances
from Bartók’s own Concerto for Orchestra. This was one
of the composer’s final works, but in its outer movements betrays
little sense of a creative soul already aware of its impending
demise. The music is more direct, less intensely scored, but
only the hymn of the central Andante religioso could
really be heard as a musical farewell. Movingly expressed here,
Noseda allows his strings some Americanese succulence in the
colouring, and with Bartók’s own homophonic harmonies associations
with Barber and others do not seem entirely inappropriate. Impassioned
and spectacular playing is the order of the day here, but there
are still patches where the orchestra’s activity is obscured
by a wall of piano. For a small experiment in mild surrealism;
in the final movement, close your eyes and imagine you are sitting
in the best seat in the concert hall. Then, in your mind’s eye,
conjure the size of the piano with regard to the rest of the
orchestra ...
This is a tremendous recording and sequence of performances
of Bartók’s three piano concertos, and as far as modern cycles
go it has to be considered as one of the best. I may be oversensitive
to the balance of piano versus orchestra, but to my ears it
is something which casts a minor blemish on an otherwise superlative
production. It wouldn’t disturb me if it wasn’t so unnecessary.
We can hear the piano well enough: Bartók’s orchestration covers
the bases almost everywhere in that regard, and when the soloist
is semi-engulfed by the orchestra that’s all part of the effect.
The BBC Philharmonic deserves equal laurels here, playing
out of their collective skin for Gianandrea Noseda. I sincerely
hope that they join up to create an unbeatable triangle with
Jean-Efflam Bavouzet again in future and I look forward to hearing
the promised Ravel Concertos disc, their synergy is truly electric.
Dominy Clements