|
|
alternatively
CD:
MDT
AmazonUK
AmazonUS
Sound Samples & Downloads
|
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Piano Sonatas: No.8 in C minor, Op.13
Pathétique* [17:33]; No.17 in D minor, Op.31 No.2 The
Tempest [23:33]; No.23 in F minor, Op.57 Appassionata [23:44]
Sviatoslav Richter (piano)
rec. (Op.13: 4 June 1959, Moscow? Op.31 No.2: 1-5 August 1961,
London? Op.57: 29-30 November, 1960, Carnegie Hall, New York City, USA?)
mono*/stereo
Recordings first published in 1961
REGIS RRC1384 [65:08]
|
|
The Richter discography is confusing, complicated by the artist’s
progressive dislike of studio recording and our consequent reliance
upon recordings of live performances. Regis did us a great favour
in issuing his glorious account of the Beethoven Sonatas nos.
3, 4 and 27, recorded in the 1970s and licensed from Olympia.
At first I found it hard to summon up the same gratitude for
the clangourous, mono sound of the Pathétique
that opens this collection. The high levels of distortion and
muddy ambience severely restrict the pleasure to be derived
from this magisterial performance. They also serve to exaggerate
the restless drive of Richter’s interpretative stance,
untempered by any depth or beauty of sound. As such, it makes
harsh listening.
Things look up with the second two items, recorded in very listenable
stereo. The only recording information we are given by Regis
is that they were “first published in 1961”. The
“Gramophone” quotation identifies the Appassionata
as being the “Living Stereo” recording made for
RCA Victor. It was used as the ‘filler’ for his
Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 made with Leinsdorf, itself a superb
performance. The Tempest could well be the recording
made for EMI and issued along with the Schumann Fantasia.
The Pathétique is presumably the 1959 studio recording
for Melodiya. Richter aficionados will no doubt identify their
specific origins.
Although nos. 17 and 23 here are satisfactory, some might feel
the need to try to locate a recording of Richter playing the
Pathétique in better sound, given that this Regis
version is trying. However, the Richter discography contains
only two mono recordings, one a 1959 studio event on Melodiya
and the other a live 1958 one on Parnassus. This one on Regis
is presumably that same 1959 studio recording, currently available
in the Melodiya Richter Edition. The Appassionata and
The Tempest are also available recorded live in 1965,
on the Praga and Music and Arts labels.
Discographical and sonic matters apart, what of the quality
of these performances? Richter was in the plenitude of his powers
when these performances were recorded, just at the time he was
being introduced to the Western world.
Despite the rough, cavernous sound in the Pathétique,
the combination of muscular dynamism and headlong propulsion
alternating with gentle lyricism is still very much in evidence
and alerts us to the fact that we could be listening to no other
pianist.
It is nonetheless a relief to turn to the Tempest in
good stereo. Richter draws out the opening Largo daringly,
using his glorious singing tone to span the gaps and create
the effect of legato. He engineers the maximum contrast between
the slow episodes and the Allegro passages. Beethoven and Richter
were made for each other. The close recording allows us to hear
the opening notes resonate for what seems like forever as Richter
conjures up vast spaces. The Mozartian Adagio has a delicate
poise and limpid beauty without sentimentality. The lilt of
the Allegretto is seductive, then the music morphs into
something more violent and disturbing. Richter narrates a story
employing many voices.
The Appassionata was one of Richter’s signature
works, frequently performed and recorded. Here, it really lives
up to the implications of its sobriquet. To me it seems perverse
to require restraint and understatement in this, one of the
most energised and tumultuous compositions ever written for
the piano. This is a bold, brilliant account which manages to
justify what could sound like extremes of fast and slow in less
skilful hands. You will never hear greater dexterity or more
thrilling playing than the way he steers the Presto to
its climactic conclusion. This recording remains justly famous
for its power and poetry.
Ralph Moore
|
|