Collection Listening Log

[Todd A]

George Szell's 94th starts off with a tight but not too fast Adagio, then moves to a large-scaled, slightly laid-back tempo-wise, though tightly conceived and executed Vivace assai possessed of infectious and relaxed rhythmic verve. The Andante theme is superbly paced and rhythmically bouncy, with a bold surprise. The third variation is a particularly joy, with the winds just plain fun, and the final variation an example of rhythmic and executive precision to make anyone other than Fluffy jealous. The Menuetto has the same combination of perfect execution, rhythmic bounce, and a sort-of-but-not-really relaxed presentation, especially as Szell picks up the pace in the latter portion of the movement. Unsurprisingly, the Finale exhibits all the same traits in just about perfect proportion. It's sort of a more polished, tighter version of Jochum's take. Good stuff.

 

[Todd A]

Beecham opens the 94th with a slightly quick Adagio, then, in what sounds like recordings from different sessions, moves to a very quick, repeatless Vivace assai of no little panache and verve, but less precision than Szell or Karajan. There's a sort of carefree feel to the music-making that no other version exhibits. Beecham follows this with an impossibly slow Andante, the theme thick and slow, though the pianissimo is quiet, and the surprise decently loud and extremely extended. The second and final variations are weighty and reasonably powerful, but in an almost regal, processional way. The Menuetto sounds fairly quick and nicely dance-like, while the Finale is vibrant and fun, with some unusual touches or passages that are either attributable to Beecham's intervention or the edition of the score he used, or both. Ultimately, it doesn't really matter as Beecham's Haydn is really quite fine.

 

[Todd A]

Harnoncourt's big band recording of the 94th starts off with a slow Adagio with some distinct phrase elongations, and then it moves to a vibrant, almost swirling Vivace assai. The slightly bright and edgy sound detracts a bit, but it's quite good. (Yes, the Concertgebouw plays very well, indeed.) The Andante starts with a quick theme, lowers to a nicely hushed pianissimo, has a nicely powerful surprise, and all of the variations are taut and tight, though the second, while forceful-ish, is not necessarily stormy. The final variation is weighty and fast, sort of a musical romp. Harnoncourt rips through the Menuetto at a very Presto-like pace, and his Finale is much the same, with a light touch. Harnoncourt infuses big band playing with a HIP penchant for snappy tempi. It works well.

 

[Todd A]

Lenny's 94 starts off with a weighty, dramatic Adagio and moves to a weighty and slower than normal Vivace assai. Indeed, the opening movement is one of the slowest in my collection, but it never drags, instead sounding relaxed and fun. Like Beecham, Bernstein opts for a slower than normal second movement, with the Andante quite slow, the pianissimo section quiet, the surprise loud, and so forth, but more than Beecham, Bernstein both keeps the music flowing more "naturally" and the variations are all splendid, with the last one proto-Beethovenian. Bernstein's basic tempo in the Menuetto seems sluggish looking just at the timing, and it does sound slow, but again, Bernstein manages to make it work far better than it should. The Finale is comparatively light, swift, and just plain fun. A great recording of the work.

 

[Todd A]

Dennis Russell Davies' start his 94th with a slow and slightly tense Adagio, with his small band allowing for some nice transparency. The Vivace assai is peppy enough and the whole movement is quite nice. The second movement is playful and light, and here the smaller forces sort of work against maximum satisfaction in the surprise, but in the second variation, though, the transparency is delightful. The Menuetto is nicely dance-like and has a well-judged tempo, and the Finale benefits most of all from the lighter overall sound. Eminently enjoyable.

 

[Todd A]

Ending the Haydn 94 survey with no less a conducting personage that Carlo Maria Giulini. Giulini drops the repeat in the opening movement, and he starts with a slow and somewhat solemn Adagio, and, as is pretty much always the case in such music, he nails it. In the Vivace assai, he conducts against quasi-stereotype in that it is fast and peppy as well as weighty, and the band play their hearts out for their maestro. The Andante theme and surprise are well executed, and as the second movement progresses, one has a keener sense than in other versions that this is a set of variations. The quick, rhythmically snappy Menuetto is superb, and the Finale is even quicker and more alert. An average Giulini recording is above average, and this might reasonably be considered an above average Giulini recording. The thing with Haydn symphonies, especially the London Symphonies, is that they are so well served on disc, and so often by the greatest conductors, that it's hard to think of a bad performance in my collection of this work, or any of them really. Ultimately, my preferences are the Szell, Bernstein, and, yes, Fluffy, all for different reasons. When even Giulini doesn't make the final cut, that is an indication of how good the other versions are.

 

[Todd A]

For me, 2018 will be the year of Federico Mompou. (Among other things.) I figured I should work my way through a big slug of recordings of his greatest work, starting with his own version, establishing a benchmark of sorts. The music starts off starkly and relatively quickly, its repetitive and simple music sounding both hypnotic and tense. But with each piece, Mompou revels in the music value of held notes and chords, of silence, of pauses. He also subtly alters rhythm and dynamics, sometimes almost imperceptibly. With so many pieces labeled Lento, Tranquillo, Calme, and Moderato, the cumulative effect is largely hypnotic, provided one allows that to happen. That written, when one expects something tranquil, as in the thirteenth movement labelled Tranquilo - tres calme, much of the playing is more agitated, which is followed by Severo-serieux that starts off living up to its description, though even it, with abstract and dissonant music, has moments of respite sprinkled liberally throughout. While the first three books of the work are all compelling, it is the fourth book that really shines here. Sparser, sparer, simpler, more abstract and vague, it offers more by presenting less. Mompou sees little reason to perfume his music with excess legato, and indeed, some of the playing is pointed, but it is never harsh or ugly. It's just never beautiful to be beautiful - not that there's anything wrong with that.

Ensayo's early 70s sound is not ideal, and not really close to SOTA for the time. But, like label-mate Esteban Sanchez, Mompou's playing overcomes sonic limitations handily. The slightly brittle and metallic upper registers and the occasional tape distortion are blips.

Seventeen more versions to go.

 

[Todd A]

Emili Brugalla's Musica Callada. Brugalla touts his autodidactic background, though he also studied in Spain with Bruno Canino and Maria Curcio, and later associated with Maria Joao Pires in some fashion. Though Brugalla shaves about seven minutes off Mompou's overall timing, he starts off sounding slower, or at least less tense in the first piece, though afterward, his playing sounds faster and becomes a bit tense. He seems to pedal quite a bit more (the Calme ending to the second book is pronouncedly different, for instance) and hold notes a bit longer, ending up with a less incisive sound, and it sounds more homogenous. Whereas Mompou sort of plays with great austerity and simplicity, he better divides the sparse melodies and accompaniment while Brugalla sounds more blended. One byproduct of the faster playing is that Brugalla does not utilize pauses and sustains to such a fine and communicative degree as Mompou, and if the dynamic gradations do not sound as stark or wide ranging, with true piano rare, they are slightly more refined within the range played. The final book is appealing, and certainly sparer and calmer, but the noticeably faster tempi render less effective.

Though I got the MP3 download, the sound quality surpasses the Mompou set, though it is not SOTA.

 

[Todd A]

Jean-François Heisser's take. At about sixty-six minutes, it's about midway in between Mompou and Brugalla in terms of overall timing, but that masks much. Right in the first piece, and most subsequent pieces, Heisser plays with greater subtlety and flexibility. He'll dispatch some notes and phrases more quickly then Brugalla, but then he'll hold some notes or sustains just the right amount of time, and he'll let the decays of notes and even some silences last a nearly perfect span. It all flows together more seamlessly, and with a logical progression from piece to piece. Heisser's often subtle rubato and very finely controlled dynamics add a layer of sensitivity to the simplicity. He adds a degree of pianistic panache to the composer's music, which only helps. As expected, Heisser plays the second book Tranquillo - tres calme in agitated fashion, and he follows up with a Severo - serieux that highlights the harmonic inventiveness of some of Mompou's writing. In the third book, Heisser's playing remains slightly quick but is very austere, with an almost harsh feel at times, though not hard or brittle sound. The fourth book sounds comparatively less austere than elevated, and it ends with a nearly upbeat final Lento.

Sound for the 2013 recording is near-SOTA, with the hall in Poitiers a very nice sounding venue, even if the more closely placed microphones pick up a fair amount of Heisser's breathing. Presentation for the set is super-deluxe, with the single CD packaged in a DVD-size package that is in fact a hardback, fifty-six page book with twenty-one black and white art photos from Chema Madoz included.

 

[Todd A]

Martin Jones ends up sandwiched between Ballaga and Heisser tempo-wise, but the first piece is slower than either, and he has no difficulty playing slow and holding notes. His dynamic gradations are not as finely realized (or recorded) as Heisser's. This trait, combined with a metallic sounding recording, results in a monotonous feel in the first book absent in Heisser or the composer's take. That written, he closes the first book with a Lento perhaps just a bit too jaunty for its designation, but one that nonetheless displays finely judged rubato, and then opens the second book with a Lento - cantabile somewhat lacking in cantabile playing but also somewhat reminiscent of Ligeti's slow music in Musica ricercata. Much of the second book sounds quite "modern" in its sparseness, reminding the listener that this is a post-war work. The Severo - serieux is rather severe, indeed, with Jones belting out the loudest playing in a Prokofiev like manner before backing way, way off for the end of the piece. Jones plays most of the third book with a notable degree of tension and relative swiftness in many passages, demonstrating that these pieces are not at all soporific miniatures. The fourth book comes off as more austere and angular, similar to composer's take, but the sound is more modern and less dry, rendering it slightly larger in scale, to good effect.

So, the recording starts off a bit slow and monotonous in the first book, but improves thereafter.

The disc also contains a fine performance of Chanson de Berceau, slightly increasing its appeal.

 

[Todd A]

Haskell Small's take. Small has a few unique traits here. First, like Mompou, he's a composer-pianist, and has recorded not only this disc, but some Bach, as well as his own music. Second, he uses a Blüthner. Third, he takes a long time to play the work, clocking in at about 74'. Right from the opening Angelico movement, which is drawn out and makes expert use of silences between notes, Small takes his time. Small also holds some notes and chords seemingly as long as possible. His closely recorded Blüthner brings a different sound, with quicker decays up top and a more relaxed sound in the middle and lower registers. In the Lento - molto cantabile of the first book, the repeated bass note opening sounds appreciably different, less full but more tonally diverse, adding a little something extra. The following Semplice and Lento both have more cutting upper register playing while managing to keep things simple and sparse. In the second book, the Tranquilo - tres calme piece starts out that way, but the amplified by the close recording, nearly erupts into something more biting before quickly fading away. The following Severo - serieux very much lives up to its designation, with the added bass texture again adding to the allure of the playing. The Lento - plaintif in the same book is tense and searching, but it almost sounds generic and aimless, but I mean that in a good way; it's musical wandering. In the Luminoso of the third book, Small pedals expertly to create a more beautiful sound, accentuating Mompou's harmonic invention. In the final book, Small's playing becomes sort of rarified, or transcendent, but it is also personal, and less austere and abstract than some prior versions. Too, as in the first Lento molto of the book, he displays an almost incredibly soft touch with some notes, playing pianissimo as quiet as anything I've heard from Yamane or Gorus.

Small pulls off something of a unique feat here. Even though his version is longer than normal, and even though Small uses pauses and silences and sustained notes expertly, his version ends up feeling shorter than prior versions. This work is not especially high on excitement in a standard piano music sort of way, but Small's expressiveness and attention to the minutest of details captivates. This was an afterthought recording that I almost didn't buy, but it turns out to be masterful.

 

[Todd A]

Time to revisit Jenny Lin's set. She starts out by playing the opening Angelico piece at an even slower pace than Small, though her overall timing for the whole collection remains close to Mompou. Her fine touch renders the music quite beautiful, but then in the next piece, Lent, one hears a more angular sound more reminiscent of the composer. But that is replaced in the Placide with a more flowing and lovely style. Then she switches it up again. She treats every piece as its own tiny world, in contrast to Haskell Small, who seems to conceive of the work as a whole and then subdivide it by book and then piece. Both approaches work. In the Legato metallico, the benefits of state of the art recording become evident as Lin dramatically increases the volume of her playing without sounding hard or ugly. Indeed, one might wonder if it sounds too lovely. While Lin plays with power and seriousness where appropriate (Tranquilo and Severo), she also imparts an almost dreamy feel to a good portion of book two. Lin layers on a sense of austerity in a good portion of book three, but then in the final Lento piece, one hears the Messiaen like bird calls more clearly than in prior versions, and her delicate pianissimo playing add subtle nuance on top of subtle nuance. The final book is a little cooler emotionally than most prior versions. It's more distant, more abstract, but hardly less attractive. Indeed, when considering the super-fine playing and the SOTA sound, this is a winner. The small Secreto encore only helps things.

 

[Todd A]

Josep Colom's Musica Callada. Colom's take is on the fast end of the spectrum, totaling just over sixty-three minutes. As such, his Angelico strips about a minute off Lin's timing. It's still lovely, but it's more tense. The whole first book is, as it turns out. There's an intimate, small-scaled, earthy and concrete feel to the playing that is quite distinct from Haskell Small's more abstract and elevated take. One hears this clearly in the almost urgent Legato metallico and even the Lento, molto cantabile which is comparatively fiery. Throughout, Colom keeps a forward-moving sound and he deploys perfectly judged rubato and dynamic contrasts, and as demonstrated in the brief Semplice, he knows how to accent Mompou's music better than Mompou himself. The second book starts off more austere, and then in the Allegretto, Colom plays swiftly and tensely and doesn't hold much if anything back in the loud passages, something he likewise does in the following Lento. He then plays the Tranquilo-tres calme with starkly divergent dynamics, playing the loudest passages with some violence. Colom is more unforgiving in the Severo-serieux, which rivals anything from Prokofiev. Under Colom's fingers, the sixteenth piece, sounds even more Debussyan than it typically does. Colom's take on the third book is cooler and more austere generally, but even here, he plays with more force than others, and the final piece (21), while possessed of Messiaen like bird song in some right hand playing, presents the bird calls more quietly and distantly than the surrounding music, altering the effect. Finally, with some more powerful playing still heard in places, the fourth book takes on a generally austere sound, though the final piece takes on an almost ecstatic air. One thing Colom's set doesn't do as well as some other versions is take maximum advantage of pauses and sustained notes and chords, but the tradeoff is playing of no little relative urgency and pianistic immediacy. It's a tradeoff worth making. It stands with Small as a unique, powerful, personal statement.

Sound is generally excellent, but some spurious noise (including some buzzing, though this could be the pianist making the sound) makes its way into the set.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00005JHH5/?tag=pinkfishmedia-21

 

[Todd A]

Javier Perianes' version. With an overall timing coming close to that of the composer's, Perianes reveals a far more tonally variegated and nuanced touch right from the outset, which is aided by the much better sound. Some of his playing maintains something of Mompou's angular style, but with no rough edges. In the Legato metallico, Perianes focuses a bit more on the legato playing than Haskell or Colom, but he nonetheless manages to add a bit of bite to the right hand playing and play with sufficient volume. Indeed, his control and dynamic gradation sounds finer than those two pianists. In the concluding Lento of the first book, Perianes pedals to good effect, creating a tonally lustrous, Debussyan soundworld. The second book's Allegretto is dashed off with verve to start, and then Perianes quickly and seamlessly ratchets up tension, something he does again, more dramatically, in Tranquilo-tres calme. In both instances, the quieter music nearly or actually rivals Volodos in terms of delicate beauty and sensitivity. His take on Severo-serieux boasts extra-weighty, tolling bass notes married to edgy sounding upper registers, but every aspect of the playing is obviously under absolute control. Most of the third book displays more distance or despondence than austerity, except in the relatively impassioned concluding Lento, which works quite nicely. The final book ends up the most austere of the lot, but even here, Perianes can't help but use almost limitless pianistic nuance, to excellent effect. Perianes also includes a wonderful encore in a masterfully executed Trois Variations.

Like Small in his even broader interpretation, Perianes expertly uses pauses and sustains for effect, creating an at times languid feel, yet the music never drags or sounds sluggish; it flows, one piece to the next, with an admirable inevitability. Too, his is the most beautiful complete recording. It has a lot going for it, perhaps enough to rate it alongside the even more distinctive and individual takes by Small and Colom.

 

[Todd A]

Herbert Henck's take. Henck's take is very fast at 62'35", though he starts with a nicely paced Angelico. The whole disc sounds more abstract and "modern" than any prior version. There's something appealing in the very slowest playing, which isn't particularly slow, but something is missing. In the second book, the Alllegretto sounds stylistically off, like a flattened out and bizarrely syncopated outtake from Iberia more than a piece from Mompou, and the immediately following Lento is quicker and tetchier than others. The Tranquillo-tres calme starts off beautifully, if quickly, with the louder playing a grinding blur. In the third and fourth books, Henck plays with a bit more austerity, and more than a little beauty, but it always seems more intellectual in approach. It's an intriguing version, but more of an alternative take.

Sound is a bit bright but very beautiful.

 

[Todd A]

Switching to streaming, I opted for Jordi Maso's Musica Callada from his super-complete set. Maso takes about sixty-seven minutes for the whole thing, so the overall tempo is just a bit quicker than the composer. He starts with a moderately paced Angelico and displays a bright, sometimes metallic, often bell-like sonority, which comes in handy. Come the Afflito e penoso, Maso slows down, plays solemnly, with an almost devotional feel that works nicely. For most of the rest of the first book, Maso plays in austere fashion, and he does a fine job exploiting pauses and sustains. He starts book two off that way, but in the second piece, the Allegretto, he plays with more drive and tension, hinting at things to come. He keeps the subsequent Lento a tense bridge, then starts the Tranquilo-tres calme in subdued fashion before building up to a reasonably powerful climax, though I could have used more oomph. The entire third book becomes the heart of the work, and Maso keeps things austere yet tense throughout. Maso slows things down in the fourth book, and returns to using pauses and sustains in a manner similar to the first book, but the overall mien is cooler. An excellent set overall, and one capped off with a couple excellent encores, El Pont and Muntanya.

 

[Todd A]

Adolf Pla's Musica Callada appears in the fourth disc of his complete set. The disc opens with the Impressiones intimes which Pla plays with an appropriately small scaled, intimate touch. Tonal variation is nice, even if the piano sounds a bit metallic at times. In the main attraction, Pla plays the first book somewhat angularly, though not as much so as the composer, and he adopts tempi that are not fast, but that keep the music moving forward at all times with a sort of tense austerity. Pla also makes personal, but definitely not idiosyncratic, use of pauses and sustains, as evidenced by the seventh movement Lento, where he lets up on the pedal after just the right amount of time yet holds chords for just a smidge longer. It's a tiny thing, but a good thing. Pla's rubato and very slight exaggerations in the second book Allegretto are quite ear catching. The Tranquilo-tres calme starts off somewhat miniaturized, and if the climax is only notably powerful in a few bass notes, it works. The Severo-serieux, while certainly stern and serious, doesn't sound as striking as some other versions, but again, Pla's approach works well. Pla's third book comes off as tense and austere, with even the Luminoso somewhat stark and cutting, except for the Calme, which is rather tense. The fourth book is more austere than the preceding two books, though here Pla keeps things tense in places, including, and most notably, in the relatively swift concluding C Major Lento. This is a very fine rendition of the work, approaching the level as the best so far (Small and Colom, basically), though different.

 

[Todd A]

Albert Attenelle starts off his Musica Callada with a well paced, subdued, and lovely Angelico, and as if to demonstrate that is not what he's about, he starts the second piece Lent more forcefully, then lets it fade away, sort of like a burst of feeling followed by resignation. He uses this approach multiple times throughout the work, always to excellent effect. In Afflitto e penoso, he builds up to notably loud playing, with weighty lower registers. Attenelle's rubato and dynamic control in the second book Allegretto is striking, and then he follows up with a Lento where in some cases he presents each note with ultra-fine detail. The Tranquillo-tres calme starts off calm, switches to powerful and cutting playing, though it retains a wonderful fluidity, before falling back to gentle playing. Attenelle ends the second book with a Calme that sounds like further modernized, cleaner, more modern Debussy. The third book starts off with a sense of subdued urgency in the first Lento, and it is maintained through the book. It's here that one appreciates that while Attenelle expertly uses pauses and sustains, he generates more musical and dramatic tension from his already mentioned dynamic control. The fourth book starts off with hints of resignation, but then infuses something like exuberance into the Moderato, and more tense expression elsewhere, all the while making the music sound unabashedly modern yet easily accessible and the very opposite of languid even with the never swift tempi. Indeed, if anything, Attenelle plays some pieces faster than normal, which he does with the more dissonant and dynamically varied concluding Lento.

This is a corker of a recording, on the same level as Colom and Small.

Sound is close, dynamically wide ranging, and at times bright and metallic, but it is always well controlled. The instrument sounds more like a Yamaha than a Steinway. A fair amount of breathing is audible throughout. This may very well warrant a physical media purchase to hear if I missed anything material sonically.

 

[Todd A]

Marcel Worms' take on Musica Callada is of the super-speedy variety, coming in at just 58'34". The Angelico sounds standard, meaning lovely, and in the following movement he displays some of the same enhanced dynamics of Attenelle, though it is neither as wide ranging or as precisely controlled. Due in part to the zippy tempi choices, rather like Colom, silences and pauses are less pronounced, though they are audible, and the entire first book takes on a comparatively tense, urgent feel. In the sixth piece Lento, Worms' clarity and directness does a fine job of both displaying the simplicity of the music and the interpretive demands needed to create something more than what is seemingly there, something he does even more impressively in the Semplice. Occasionally, the quick tempo choices can seem to be too much, as in the second book Allegretto. In Tranquillo-tres calm, Worms pecks out the opening section with no little beauty, and he turns the second, louder section into a brief perpetual motion section with nice ostinato bass but limited dynamics. The following Severo-serieux borders on sounding too rushed in the first portion of the work, though that concern evaporates in the second half. The third book maintains a tense feel and maintains a penchant for speed, which yields a Luminoso more about accents then anything else, and the Tranquillo is uncommonly nervous, though that's not meant critically. In the fourth book, Worms adopts a more austere style, though he doesn't entirely abandon his tempo choices; he alters delivery slightly. Come the twenty-sixth piece, one of the many Lentos, it seems that Worms' austerity pent up something which is released in repeated short bursts.

Sound is excellent, and if the pressed overall feel of the interpretation results in something less finely realized than Attenelle or Colom or Small, it's nonetheless compelling.

 

[Todd A]

Though Sira Hernàndez's overall timing of just under 66' is middle of the road, she starts off her set with a fast Angelico, coming in at just 1'23". It still sounds lovely, but it sounds agitated as well. The first Lento, while not especially fast, never entirely shakes the nervous feeling, and Hernàndez proves adept at using pauses and sustains. Come the Legato metallico, it becomes clear that Hernàndez, aided by close microphones, is more about playing pianissimo to piano than playing louder music with great weight, which is perfectly fine, especially when done as well as in Semplice, or the Lento that closes the first book, which is a wash of color in places. In the Tranquillo-tres calme, Hernàndez starts off calmly, with tight repeated notes, but she never builds up in volume, keeping everything more contained. It does change the nature of the piece a bit. Hernàndez's style lends itself to a very Debussyan Calme in the second book. The third book sort of becomes the focus of the recording, combining the aforementioned traits and a sort of meandering sensibility and introspective approach. It's not so much austere as isolated. The fourth book sounds more austere in a manner similar to other pianists. Overall, a nice version.