RECORDINGS OF THE YEAR
March
The ferocity with which the Moonlight’s last two chords are delivered suggests that the composer’s travails are not yet over
Richard Osborne finds Murray Perahia on formidable form in two pinnacles in Beethoven’s output, with interpretations that stand among the finest available
Beethoven Piano Sonatas – No 14, ‘Moonlight’, Op 27 No 2; No 29, ‘Hammerklavier’, Op 106 Murray Perahia pf DG F 479 8353 (56’ • DDD) The first thing we should do in approaching this musically remarkable and, in terms of its exploration of the composer’s tempest-tossed inner life, extraordinarily fascinating addition to the Beethoven discography is banish all thoughts of moonlight.
A further assumption it might be useful to set aside, as we attend to what Murray Perahia calls ‘two of the most radically groundbreaking of the composer’s 32 piano sonatas’, is that the Hammerklavier is the more difficult of the two pieces. I’m not thinking here of the finger-wrenching challenge of actually delivering the Hammerklavier, something the unbridled fury of the finale of the earlier sonata interestingly presages. Rather, I’m thinking of the imaginative and technical challenges that the emotionally complex Sonata quasi una fantasia in the then alien key of C sharp minor presents to the player: first in seeking out its essence, then in distilling that essence on whatever keyboard circumstance or time provides. (As Charles Rosen observed, the sonata’s finale shredded the pianos of
8 GRAMOPHONE RECORDINGS OF THE YEAR 2018
1801 as surely as its opening movement troubles more modern ones.)
One of the many problems presented by the meditative opening movement is that there is no readymade solution to the question of the speed at which the music should move, other than that which the accomplished interpreter discovers for himself, be it Ignaz Friedman in one of the earliest of all recordings (Columbia, 2/27) or Murray Perahia today. Thus Solomon, in a famous HMV recording (10/54), takes nearly nine minutes over the movement, whereas Perahia, in his luminously voiced yet at the same time emotionally riven performance, takes a little over five.
And make no mistake, this is desolate music. ‘A pale light glimmers above the whispered pianissimo triplets, from whose dark depths the grief-laden melody ascends’, wrote Wilhelm Kempff, whose 1956 mono recording (DG, 10/57) is not dissimilar to Perahia’s, for all that Kempff occasionally allows, for expressive effect, a barely perceptible pause in those whispered triplets. We re-encounter this mastery of musical discourse, albeit at greater length and on a higher plane, in Perahia’s free-flowing yet lofty account of the great soliloquy that stands at the heart of the Hammerklavier. PHO T O G R A P H Y
D G
/
B R O E D E
I X
F E L
:
Click on a CD cover to buy/stream from gramophone.co.uk