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Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Piano Sonata No. 5 in C minor, Op. 10, No. 1 (1798) [19:29]
Piano Sonata No. 6 in F major, Op. 10, No. 2 (1798) [11:54]
Piano Sonata No. 7 in D major, Op. 10, No. 3 (1798) [24:24]
Piano Sonata No. 17 in D minor, Op. 31, No. 2 (1802) [24:12]
Piano Sonata No. 18 in E flat major, Op. 31, No. 3 (1802) [20:47]
Piano Sonata No. 19 in G minor, Op. 49, No. 1 (1795/98) [9:09]
Piano Sonata No. 20 in G major, Op. 49, No. 2 (1798/98) [8:54]
Piano Sonata No. 22 in F major, Op. 54 (1804) [13:05]
Garrick Ohlsson (piano)
rec. Performing Arts Centre, State University of New York, Purchase,
N.Y., (dates not given)
BRIDGE 9274A/B [2 CDs 69:16 + 68:21]
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This is a particularly well produced issue, with a long, informative
and very readable note, in English only, by Malcolm MacDonald.
The recording is rich, lifelike and very satisfying. We are
not told when it took place, but the two instruments used are
specified, and even listeners less attuned to this kind of thing
will be able to hear the difference between them. It is the
ninth and final volume in American pianist Garrick Ohlsson’s
complete Beethoven Piano Sonata series, and hearing it makes
me keen to encounter the others.
The first movement of the Sonata No. 5 is essentially
the juxtaposition of a harsh rhythmic figure with a tender,
cantabile one, and Ohlsson brings out the contrast between
the two elements most successfully, never letting us forget
how many times the composer marks fortissimo and sforzando
into the score. The calm meditation that is the slow movement
is beautifully rendered, with particularly clear textures in
the rich passages near the end, and sensitively adding a lower
octave in places where Beethoven’s piano would not have had
one. The finale is perhaps not really a Prestissimo,
but at a slightly steadier tempo than some of his rivals Ohlsson
brings out the humour more successfully in this movement, where,
though the notes are clearly by Beethoven, the spirit is close
to that of Haydn.
Humour there is in plenty in the following sonata, and Ohlsson
brings it out in masterful style. Textures are exceptionally
clear – listen to the comical right hand trills in the bass
in the first movement – and Ohlsson is perfectly in tune with
a music toying with Romanticism. One notes how punctilious he
is in respect of the composer’s markings, as if he has examined
and weighed up the effect of every one. In both the first and
last movements he respects the repeat marks in respect of the
exposition, but not the second part. One can only conjecture
as to the reason for this. It really is a little sonata, and
perhaps he felt that the repeats risk making it a bigger piece
than it really is. Schnabel does the same, but that was another
time. I tend to be of a like mind with Tovey, who wrote “…Beethoven
never wrote a repeat mark without thought of its effect at the
moment when the repetition begins…” though he goes on “…though
he may forget the effect of the total length, or may disagree
with our opinion on that point.”
Refreshingly clear finger work characterises the opening of
the third sonata of the Op. 10 group, and all the virtues of
Ohlsson’s playing as indicated above are to be found in this
performance too. The sonata is a strange one, with a long, brooding
slow movement, a gentle minuet and playful trio followed by
a kind of stuttering finale than never seems to get going and
yet teeters on the brink of something profound and serious in
the final bars.
The Classical sensibility is still very much present in the
Sonata No. 17, and Garrick Ohlssohn’s performance of
it is a triumph. Once again his careful attention to the composer’s
markings is evident, skilfully managing a crescendo followed
by piano in the last bar of the slow movement, for example,
and bringing out with impeccable poise the unpredictable accents
in the troubled, constantly moving finale. The opening of the
sonata, a slowly spread arpeggio, is wonderfully pensive here,
contrasting beautifully with the nervous music that follows.
And when, later in the movement, this arpeggio reappears and
is extended by way of a recitative into something at once important
and mysterious, this listener was held spellbound. Wisely, the
spurious nickname “Tempest” occurs only as a reference in the
booklet notes.
The third sonata of the Op. 31 set, in E flat major, is a strange
one indeed. Amongst the most consistently cheerful of Beethoven’s
sonatas, its layout is nonetheless most unusual. There is no
slow movement, but in its place, coming second in the overall
scheme, a movement headed “Scherzo”, but which does not follow
the usual Scherzo pattern. The third movement is headed “Minuet”,
but with a calm, singing quality that makes it feel more like
the slow movement the sonata lacks. Listen how Ohlsson’s left
hand drives the rhythm in the “hunting” finale, and most of
all, the exquisite timing of the very opening of the sonata,
before the main tempo is established in the seventeenth bar.
The two Op. 49 sonatas are appropriately placed at the end of
the second disc, which is also the final disc in the whole series.
Composed earlier than their opus number would suggest, and published
apparently thanks to Beethoven’s brother and without the composer’s
consent, they appeared as “Easy Sonatas” and may have been intended
as teaching works. They contain some delightful passages, but
on the whole are small scale, both in musical ambition and technical
demands. Ohlssen lavishes on them as much care as he does on
the more important works, bringing perhaps rather more weight
to the G minor sonata than we are used to.
The latest sonata in this collection is No. 22 from 1804. It
is one of the lesser known sonatas, falling as it does between
the Waldstein and the Appassionata. Tovey refers
to this “subtle and deeply humorous work”, and Guy Sacre, writing
in French in his book La Musique de Piano (Laffont, 1998)
refers to its “strange originality” and qualifies it as “a caprice
of the imagination.” Strange is certainly is. The first of the
two movements is marked to be played “In tempo d’un Menuetto”,
but it has nothing of the minuet about it, at least once you
get past the curiously short-winded first theme. The finale
is extraordinary, a constant stream of semiquavers from beginning
to end, undisturbed except for the occasional hiccup – or “hiccough”:
Tovey again – listen out for it, there really doesn’t seem to
be a more appropriate word. At the end of the final page, at
a faster tempo, the music just stops. The work reinforces the
idea, too frequently forgotten, of Beethoven as one of the funniest
of composers, and encourages us to rejoice, bearing in mind
the preceding and following sonatas, at the incalculable diversity
of the mind of a genius. Garrick Ohlsson’s performance is fully
worthy of this remarkable work, and the two discs form a most
desirable and satisfying package.
William Hedley
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