Sergey Vasil'yevich RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
Piano Concerto No. 1 in F sharp minor, Op. 1 (1891, rev. 1917) [26:13]
Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30 (1909) [39:28]
Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 (1901) [32:45]
Piano Concerto No. 4 in G minor, Op. 40 (1926, rev. 1941) [24:48]
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43 (1934) [22:41]
Valentina Lisitsa (piano)
London Symphony Orchestra/Michael Francis
rec. 12-13 September 2009 (concertos 1-2), 5-7 December 2009 (concertos
3-4),
8 March 2010 (Rhapsody), No.1 Studio, Abbey Road, London, UK
DECCA 478 4890 [65:43 + 80:14]
Ukrainian-born Valentina Lisitsa really is a child of our time; despite a
promising
start to her playing career circumstances conspired to force a premature
retirement
from the concert platform. However, she was dissuaded from such a
precipitate
move and posted her first YouTube video in 2007; the rest, as they say, is
history.
She’s new to me - I’d not seen her video of the Chopin
Études,
which did remarkably well when it appeared online - and all the publicity
suggested
that her Rachmaninov would be rather special too.
There are several high-profile sets of the Rachmaninov concertos and the
Paganini
Rhapsody, among them the Earl Wild/Jascha Horenstein/RPO box from the
1960s
(Cha
ndos),
Vladimir Ashkenazy and André Previn’s from the 1970s (Decca)
and, much more recently, Leif Ove Andsnes and Antonio Pappano’s
cycle
(EMI)
and Stephen Hough’s Andrew Litton/Dallas Symphony series (Hyperion).
Ashkenazy and Lisitsa have the benefit of the LSO in good form - the
Andsnes
set is split between the LSO and the Berlin Philharmonic - with generally
decent
recordings to match.
Returning to the Wild accounts after some years I was reminded of how
testosterone-charged
they are. These recordings - big, bold and very forwardly balanced - have
not
worn well; some may find this an exciting and tempestuous partnership but
there’s
a relentlessness here that’s very fatiguing after a while. By
contrast
the Hough/Litton recordings are soft-grained and the playing and sonics
are
more appealing in their mix of poetry and power. Ditto Andsnes and
Pappano.
That said, neither is an unequivocal success, which isn’t that
surprising
as ‘complete’ traversals seldom are.
With such caveats in mind Yevgeny Sudbin’s BIS recording of the
first
concerto with Lan Shui and the Singapore Symphony Orchestra strikes a very
good
balance between energy and insight; this has all the makings of a
compelling
and consistent set, which I hope will emerge with more alacrity than
Noriko
Ogawa’s did. Her Rachmaninov has had a mixed reception, as suggested
by
Chris Howell’s lukewarm response to Nos. 1, 4 and the Paganini
Rhapsody
(review).
No doubt listeners will have preferred versions of individual works - Michelangeli’s
No. 4, for instance - and I always tend towards the mix-and-match
approach
rather than the one-set solution. That said, the latter are often keenly
priced,
so one or two disappointments won’t necessarily be a deal-breaker.
First impressions of the Lisitsa set are favourable. Some may find the
opening
to the Piano Concerto No. 1 a tad self-effacing, but it soon
becomes
clear that Lisitsa’s is a reading of unusual sensitivity and charm.
Conductor
Michael Francis and the LSO certainly provide thrilling weight and
emphasis
as the work progresses, which only underlines this pianist’s
intensely
poetic utterances. What pleases me most is that there’s no sign of
self-aggrandising
virtuosity here; indeed, there’s a lightness and spontaneity to her
playing
that’s matched at every turn by luminous sounds from the LSO. The
Andante
had me holding my breath, such are its moments of transporting loveliness,
and
the warm, velvety recording - made in the legendary Studio No. 1 at Abbey
Road
- is very seductive too.
What a heart-melting performance of the first concerto this is; surely it
would
it be tempting fate to expect the same from its partner on CD 1, the
rhapsodic
third? Well, I’m delighted to report that Lisitsa’s control of
rhythm,
touch and phrasing in Piano Concerto No. 3 is just as miraculous,
and
the liquid Allegro ma non tanto races, swirls and eddies with the
best
of them. The LSO are pin-sharp in their responses and there’s a
powerful
sense of the players sitting in rapt attention during the solos.
Lisitsa’s
is not a big, muscular sound but it is a lithe, well-toned one, and she
lights
up this most familiar concerto in ways I scarcely thought possible.
Francis is a sympathetic and supple partner in this ravishing enterprise,
and
his control of tempi and dynamics are well judged at all times. The
dreamily
effusive Intermezzo is so economically done, and what some may
regard
as an air of containment - too much reserve, perhaps - just adds to the
delicious
inner tension of this performance. I’ve rarely heard these music-box
moments
dance with such light steps, or the sections segue so seamlessly. Again,
some
may find the Finale too reticent, but what it lacks in sheer
breadth
it more than makes up for in beguiling shape, detail and colour.
The second disc opens with a sonorous and imposing account of the Piano
Concerto
No. 2. There’s no shortage of sweep, and the free-flowing
elements
at the heart of the first movements are most persuasively presented. That
said,
Lisitsa rises magnificently to the challenge of the noisier passages, the
quieter
ones a telling counterpoint to what’s gone before. It’s a
measure
of this pianist’s magnetic presence that the sense of being in a
concert
hall, of witnessing a live event, is so palpable, not least in that
yearning,
oh-so-songful Adagio sostenuto. The LSO strings play like angels
here,
and the dialogue between soloist and orchestra is finely poised
throughout.
Any reservations? Perhaps one or two of those Brahmsian horn entries could
be
tidier and the pulse, which often falters in this central movement, is
steady
if not always strong. The same could be said of the Allegro
scherzando,
although Lisitsa’s lyrical gifts are never in doubt. Tuttis are
suitably
forceful but never overbearing and Francis keeps the orchestra on a tight
rein;
as for Lisitsa she rhapsodises but rarely rambles, and the concerto ends
with
all the brio one could wish.
The mercurial Fourth Concerto gets a decent if not entirely
memorable
reading, and the LSO provide plenty of punch when required. Occasionally
one
senses a worrying loss of focus - the soloist is apt to wander and the
hitherto
crisp sound is rather congested at times - and for once I found myself
thinking
Lisitsa and Francis could do much better than this. Still, it’s not
a
bad performance, just not as caught-on-the-wing-wonderful as Nos.
1,
3 and, to a large extent, No. 2. As for the Paganini
Rhapsody
it’s a major disappointment; it’s not as sharply drawn
as
the best, or as warmly recorded, and all too often I longed for more
colour
and contrast.
Lisitsa really shines in the first and third concertos and the second is
pretty
impressive too, but for some reason the remaining works - perhaps more
opaque
than the others - just don’t respond as readily to her innately
lyrical
approach. Inexplicably the sound isn’t consistent either; indeed,
the
Rhapsody is very bright in the treble and any sense of presence
seems
to have evaporated entirely. No: real joy resides in the first disc, in
which
we encounter a composer of rare tenderness and vulnerability, of great
passion
bridled only to gallop away in those glorious tuttis.
I had started to think that if anyone could rescue these warhorses from
the
knacker’s yard it would be Lisitsa. Perhaps that was asking too much
-
older, more experienced pianists haven’t managed that either - but
I’d
snap up this twofer for the revelatory first disc alone. Now if the second
had
lived up to that initial promise Lisitsa would be in very exalted company
indeed.
Lisitsa’s is a delightful and engaging talent; I predict great
things
for her.
Dan Morgan
http://twitter.com/mahlerei
Masterwork Index: Rachmaninov
piano
concertos
I’d snap up this twofer for the revelatory first disc alone.
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