Beethoven Piano Sonata Cycle Journal (Redux)

[sls4321]

Thank you - listening to Kodama now - thought I'd listen from 29 through, as everyone asleep. Streaming on Qobuz.

I think your statement "never achieves a sense of transcendence, or anything much beyond being well played" sums her up, listening for a couple of hours. Particularly in the Adagio of op 106, which I thought was vacuous and on the fast side. The fugue was excellent, but she'd lost me by then.

Excellent recorded sound.

 

[Todd A]

This year, it has been a decade since I went off the deep end with respect to Beethoven piano sonatas. (When I went off the deep end with respect to other things varies, probably by reader.) Up to 2005, I had acquired seven or eight complete sonata cycles, mostly famous ones: Annie Fischer, Wilhelm Kempff – in stereo! – etc. What set me off was Friedrich Gulda’s awesome Amadeo cycle. Since hearing that set, I’ve amassed a total of 84 cycles (two incomplete), three of them this year, and as of this writing, what will be my 85th cycle, Daniel Ben-Pienaar's, is mere days from release. My biggest struggle right now is finding the time to listen to new cycles. One of those new cycles is Michael Houstoun’s second cycle, on mighty Rattle Records. I’ve known about Mr Houstoun for a decade. After buying Gulda’s cycle, I began scouring the interwebs for all available cycles. Michael Houstoun recorded his first cycle for the New Zealand based HRL Morrison Music Trust in the late 90s, and of course I wanted it. The price was prohibitively high – and that’s even when compared to the crazy expensive Japanese market sets I’ve bought. About five years ago, I did download the last five sonatas from the cycle as MP3 files, and I liked what I heard enough to keep the set on my radar, but I never got around to buying it. Then, last December, I learned about Houstoun’s new cycle for Rattle Records, was provided a link to a Kiwi retailer on this very site, found the price more than acceptable, and to start the new year, I decided to treat myself to the new cycle.

The set is über-deluxe. It consists of fourteen short CDs of around 45 minutes each, with each CD representing one half of seven different programs. The CDs are stored in a luxurious flip-book style case of generous size. The hard-bound book (not booklet) accompanying the set is about 200 pages, has plenty of luxe photos of Mr Houstoun, including some of his early recordings where some of his fashion choices may be considered questionable; a lengthy bio of the performer, which I have not yet read; and short descriptions of each work and program by Mr Houstoun. All told, the set is most lovely, but among CD-only sets, it is the second most awkwardly sized one on the market, and can’t really be stored in a normal rack. Only Kun-Woo Paik’s Korean market set, with its nearly LP sized dimensions, is more inconveniently sized.

(When I first ordered the Rattle cycle, I was intent on doing some A/Bs between the Rattle and Trust sets, but, alas, I cannot find the Trust downloads. I bought a new PC last year, and it appears I neglected to copy over some music files. I also cannot find the CDs I ripped from the converted MP3s.)

I started with disc one. The set opens with Op 10/3, and the first thing one notices is the piano tone, which is full and a bit darker than normal. The second thing one notices is the clarity and weight of the left hand playing. The third thing one notices is the strong forward momentum Houstoun maintains right through the Presto. He's no speed demon here; he opts for a just about right speed. Then he slows way down for the Largo. He accents certain notes and an early right hand arpeggio in a unique but keeping in the spirit of the music way. Some forte right hand chords take on a sharper tone. Houstoun plays in contained fashion, which doesn't quite ratchet up the tension to peak levels, though the offset is superb clarity of voices throughout. The Menuetto is taken at a slightly slower than normal pace, but the playing is good enough that it seems over too soon, and then Houstoun ends with a perfectly considered Rondo – not too fast, definitely not slow – but perfectly in proportion to what came before. 27/1 follows. Some lightly clipped phrasing, hefty bass, and pleasant and never pushed tempi characterize the opening movement. Houstoun maintains a largely pleasant – indeed, quite relaxed – demeanor throughout most of the sonata. As a result, at times the piece kind of drags on. I prefer a more energetic take. That written, the final movement has a bit of zip. 14/1 closes the disc, and Houstoun plays this "rather happy sonata" (his apt description) at a slightly leisurely pace, especially in the Allegretto, but with more than enough pianistic sunshine. Good stuff.

Disc two opens with Op 26. Given the traits Houstoun displays in the opening disc, I figured he might do well here. Turns out to be the case. First of all, Houstoun plays the theme and variations movement splendidly. Each variation, starting after the very slightest of pauses, is stylistically distinct and almost its own little world. The Scherzo is suitably vibrant. The funeral march is serious and heavy and weighty, with the occasionally potent left hand playing adding even more gravitas. The finale offers a nice contrast and is played at a just right tempo. An excellent Op 26. Disc two and program one ends with Op 53. The Allegro con brio is taken at a somewhat measured pace to open, but from the outset, it is clear that Houstoun's concept of the Waldstein is grand and serious. The playing never drags; forward momentum never breaks, even in the slower passages; Houstoun plays some right hand passages brightly; and again the left hand playing displays nice heft in some passages. The Introduzione is measured and a bit solemn, and transitions to a large scaled – almost 106 scaled – rendition of the Rondo. This approach doesn't prevent Houstoun from taking time to lavish attention on every little section. Indeed, the whole thing is a bit studied, but that doesn't detract at all. This is an extremely fine version of the work. Perhaps not a top five take, but maybe a top ten, depending on taste.

Disc three and program two starts with Op 49/2. Houstoun keeps things suitably light. The second movement isn't the most lyrical I've heard, I suppose, but it is among the most detailed, with each voice given its due. And it's charming. Op 2/3 follows, and Houstoun plays with great energy, and he makes the music sound fun, but he also never really rips into the piece. He keeps everything under control. That's merely an observation, not a criticism. The Adagio starts off 'small' and restrained, then Bam!, Houstoun lets loose some tolling bass notes. The movement is a bit austere overall, but it works and captures one's attention. The Scherzo is fun, and the Allegro assai is peppy and energetic fun. Op 78 closes out the disc, and Houstoun plays it seriously. No wimpy little sonata this. That's not to say he plays the piece more seriously than it can or should be – he doesn't – just that this is treated like a serious work, at least in the opening movement. The Allegro vivace is slightly less serious, but no mere trifling movement.

Disc four opens with 31/1. Houstoun plays with exaggerated mock-clumsiness, delivering heavy chords and ridiculous lags, but when he needs to let loose, he does. The klutz vs virtuoso gag works well. He also throws in some right hand playing between about 4' and 4'30" unlike anything I've heard. The Adagio grazioso is played at a sensible pace, boasts superb trills over more mock-clumsy left hand playing, and some beefy rubato-laden bass notes leading into the middle section. The final section offers more of the opening section, but with more noticeable intensity. The Rondo is all energy and momentum and fun. Houstoun nails the first of the Op 31 sonatas, which is always a good sign. It's an individual take, perhaps idiosyncratic, but it's one worthy of comparison to no less than Russell Sherman or Anton Kuerti. The disc and program ends with Op 57. The overall tempo is a bit broad, but that simply serves to allow Houstoun to build up to thundering climaxes with, and to play with suitable turbulence, though of the never out of control variety. The potent bass may also serve to rattle some CD cases and loose knick-knacks in a listening space, depending on how loud one chooses to listen. And that's just the opening movement. The Andante is a somewhat somber, very serious pause before a heavy-duty closer. More potent bass, some cutting upper registers, constant forward momentum, the only thing it lacks is a sense of abandon, but that is clearly not Houstoun's MO. The best disc of the bunch so far.

Program three and disc five starts with 49/1. Houstoun takes it a bit slow, plays it rich and darkly hued, and tosses in a dash of personalized rubato to boot in the opener. The Rondo is bit more sprightly. Not a bad way to start a program. Next up is 10/2, and from the get-go, the Allegro sounds sunny and light, or at least light-ish. The more pronounced than normal left hand playing allows the listener to appreciate both the structure and the charm all the more. The Allegretto is a bit slower than average, but still maintains the appropriate feel. The Presto, properly played with repeat, is just splendid, all fun and forward movement. Op 22 ends the disc. Houstoun takes his sweet time with the sonata, extending it out to just over twenty-six minutes. The Allegro con brio manages to possess enough forward momentum while being slightly relaxed in tempo. No need to rush, no need to meander. Just let it flow. The same holds true for the Adagio, which in addition to steady and prominent left hand playing also benefits from lovely, mellifluous right hand playing, which even tips over into gentle, lullabyesque playing. The Menuetto maintains a somewhat gentle, lovely demeanor while maintaining nice forward momentum. Same with much of the Rondo, though some passages have a bit more oomph. Think of the whole thing as a caffeinated Pastorale-y type thing.

Disc six opens with 31/2. The opening arpeggio is slow and subdued, so as to better contrast with the stormy playing to follow, though Houstoun never really ratchets up intensity to fiery levels. The potent bass compensates to a degree. But he does revel in the slower music, savoring each note as the music fades to silence. The Adagio is slow and lovely, and there is tension throughout, but I kind of wanted more quiet ominousness. The Allegretto is a bit on the slow side, and while I generally prefer a bit quicker playing, here Houstoun manages to play with unyielding forward drive with hints of darkness. It's not as relatively good as his 31/1, but it is good. The disc and program ends with 101. The opening movement is serene and transcendental from note one, and softer-edged than my memories of the earlier recording. The march never remains a bit soft, not displaying quite immense drive or power. Houstoun then proceeds to play the Adagio ma non troppo in an even more serene, transcendental way that the opening movement. It's almost like a test drive for the Op 111 Arietta. The final movement is taken at a slow pace, and while nicely clear, it never really catches fire; the playing remains serene, or as close to serene as it can. It's nice, but I wanted more than nice.

Program four and disc seven opens with 10/1. Houstoun launches the piece with a quick, propulsive opening arpeggio, and the traits last through the entire movement, with the at times hefty bass adding some nicely placed oomph. The Adagio is suitably slow, and again Houstoun plays some passages with surprising delicacy, but he also thumps out a few bass notes, and a few chords are hammered out. The ending is nicely drawn out, with the last notes fading slowly away. The Prestissimo has the energy and weight one would expect by this point, and it works very well. One of the best performances of the set to this point. 14/2 follows, and Houstoun plays the opening movement with a suitably light, fun feel. He keeps much the same feel in the just right sounding Andante, complete with a blow the cob-webs away final chord. The Scherzo, too, is just right. Another peach of a performance. The disc ends with Op 54. Houstoun plays the alternating themes with a really nice degree of contrast. The first theme is gentle and comparatively smooth and lovely; the second theme is hard-hitting, almost lumbering, and heavy – all in a good way. The Allegretto is quick, or rather quick-ish, for most of its duration, before becoming fast for the coda. That doesn't mean it doesn't display forward momentum the whole time, because it most certainly does. Overall, this is yet another excellent performance on perhaps the best overall disc of the set to this point.

Disc eight contains Op 106 only. I happened to listen to it the same day that I listened to Charles Rosen's 1964 recording of the work. The two pianists offer different visions of the piece. Houstoun takes the big-scaled, slower than normal approach, taking almost twelve minutes to play the opening movement. The right hand playing takes on a bright, sharp tone a fair amount of the time. Given the control Houstoun displays, I'm guessing that is intentional as opposed to being a byproduct of flailing away helplessly at the keyboard. It is also not unappealing here. The Scherzo is likewise a bit slower than normal, and also large in scale. Houstoun's growling bass adds a nice dimension to the music, as well. The Adagio is not too much slower than Rosen's, but right out of the gate, it is darker and more somber, as opposed to cold and intense. Call it more romantic, but not too romantic. The Largo is played slowly, and then the fugue is taken at a slightly measured tempo, but this allows for both fine clarity and, when paired with the beefy bass, a substantial sound. This is quasi-orchestral piano playing of a high order. I definitely find Rosen better in this work, but Houstoun offers a compelling alternative take, and he plays to a higher standard than in Op 101. This version strikes me as slightly softer-edged than the earlier recording, but that may not be the case, and in any event, this stands on its own. A strong performance to end a strong program.

Disc nine and program five opens with opens with 2/2. Houstoun includes the repeat in the first movement, and an overall slow approach, yielding an almost thirty minute version of the work. The playing sounds fun and just a hair on the broad side tempo-wise. The playing is fun and youthful, but also just a bit serious. The Largo appasionato is definitely slow and a bit somber and pretty serious. Passionate, not so much. In the Scherzo, Houstoun plays slow, using long pauses after the repeated figures, and plays the trio in more intense than normal fashion, with heavy accents. The Rondo sounds light and charming in the fashion on the first movement. This is a heavyweight version of this sonata, and one filled with individual touches – or idiosyncrasies: po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe. I like it more than I probably should. Op 13 follows. The Grave is weighty and serious, the Allegro intense and serious, and a bit measured. The Adagio is comparatively lyrical and warm and suitably serious. The concluding Rondo is conventionally paced and played, in good ways. It is a very good performance, but this piece has many great performances.

Disc ten starts with the last of the ever important Op 31 sonatas. Houstoun starts off slower than I generally prefer, and while he picks things up a bit, he never quite infuses the playing with the energy and wit and fun I prefer. It's too measured for my taste. The Scherzo has a solid, unshakeable rhythm to it, but it is again too low energy. The Menuetto certainly sounds lovely, but it seems too morose to my ears. Then, all of the sudden, Houstoun springs to life in Presto con fuoco. It's lively, it's light, it's fun, it has growling bass, it's quick. It's like a movement from a different recording. Alas, the sonata needs more than one supremely fine movement too succeed. The disc and program closes with Op 109. The Vivace, very slightly restrained, sounds like a cascading waterfall of wonderful notes to open, a feat Houstoun repeats again later, and he creates a sort of hybrid of transcendental and forceful approaches. It works quite well. The Prestissimo boasts superb right hand playing and builds up to a strong coda. The final movement starts off slightly tense, but quickly transitions to transcendental playing of not a little beauty. Houstoun plays the variations a bit slowly, at times sort of underscoring every note. It's not bad, or anything, it's just one way to play the work. Houstoun keeps everything serious and lovely and deep, and he holds the last note for just as long as humanly possible – really, it is a lovely how he lets the piece fades into oblivion. It is very fine reading, but all the same, it doesn't scale the highest heights.

Disc eleven and program six opens with Op 7. The opening Allegro molto e con brio is taken at a steady pace, filled with energy and enthusiasm and a few thumping bass notes. For a big, broad take, it's superb. The Largo is even better paced, and the clarity of playing in both hands often results in two equal musical parts, with each individual note equally weighted. The playing often sounds weighty, but Houstoun does not overdo it: this remains early, but serious, Beethoven. Maybe, just maybe the coda is too serious, but then again, maybe not. The slightly broadly played Allegretto maintains the overall feel, though the growling bass in the middle section could be a bit clearer. The concluding Rondo is back to more of the same of the first movement, with an invitingly warm, lyrical and big sound in the outer sections, and a satisfyingly sharp middle section. A most enjoyable reading. The disc ends with the Mondschein. Houstoun establishes a suitably hazy sound and dark feel for the first movement, and the overall tempo suits his conception perfectly. The Allegretto is weighty and nicely paced, acting as a rest before the heavyweight Presto agitato. Houstoun plays it quickly, with superb clarity, and lots of drive, and just as important, dramatic oomph.

Disc twelve opens with the Pastorale. Right from the get-go, Houstoun's big, warm-ish, measured playing in the Allegro sounds just lovely. The Andante basically continues on, and the the Scherzo is delivered with bright fun and sharp-ish accents, and a (comparatively) dashed off middle section. The Rondo slightly ratchets up the intensity and weight, and ends on a high energy note. The disc and program close with Op 110. Houstoun delivers a comparatively better performance than in 109. The opening movement displays more of the lovely warmth of Op 28, and adds a bit more depth, a bit more transcendental feeling. The Allegro molto is more forceful and almost spiky at times, but never hard-edged. Then there's the Adagio in all its sublime loveliness, serene and sort of floating above it all. The fugue maintains a serene feel, and near the end Houstoun throws in some more beefy bass. The second arioso section assumes an almost sorrowful mien at times. The repeated chords build up to a surprisingly subdued climax, but the inverted fugue builds up to a most satisfying climax and the piece ends on a high note.

Lucky disc thirteen opens with the first sonata. The opening Allegro is fast and energetic and youthful and pretty straight-forward, some micro-pauses notwithstanding. The Adagio flows along at a pretty Andante clip throughout, and boasts some lovely playing. Houstoun keeps things light. The Menuetto adds just a bit of spice in the outer sections. The Prestissimo displays a nice amount power and picks up a speed a bit. This sonata shows that Houstoun's broader approach in many other sonatas is very clearly an interpretive choice. (And often a good one.) Op 79 follows, and Houstoun keeps up the quick and chipper approach with a just plain fun Presto alla tedesca, complete with a acciaccatura played for for laughs. The Andante adds hints of gravitas, and the Vivace offers a suitably fun and vigorous end to the piece. The disc ends with 81a. The opening movement offers enough grandeur and touching playing to sound good overall, though a few right hand accents and somewhat stiff climaxes detract just a hair from the quality of the proceedings. The second movement is but a bit subdued and sorrowful at once, and in the ending movement Houstoun rolls out that hefty bass playing again, underpinning celebratory, ebullient playing. A good end to a very good disc.

The final disc opens with Op 90. Houstoun opts for a slightly broad tempo and hefty, large-scale playing again. The piece definitely sounds weighty, but it lacks a bit of forward momentum in a few spots. The second movement flows nicely, and displays nice lyricism, and Houstoun's left hand playing is nicely clear and steady throughout. A long, twenty-eight minute plus Op 111 ends the cycle. The Maestoso sounds weighty and a bit mysterious. Something is being held back. That something is the pent up energy released in the Allegro, which has just about the most potent bass notes I've heard in any version, yet the playing is never mere banging, or even particularly sharp-edged. Houstoun keeps forward momentum going throughout. There is a certain degree of excitement in the playing, to be sure. The Arietta, though displaying some lovely playing, is just too heavy, bordering on the lumbering, with unsubtle left hand playing. The right hand playing, though, evokes the more transcendental sound I prefer. The second half of the Arietta is a bit more serene, with a tamer accompaniment. The first variation reintroduces some heftier bass, but not too much, but the voices seem a bit unbalanced. The second variation jells a bit better, and Houstoun ratchets up intensity just a bit. The boogie woogie variation is not played in a sped up manner, still maintains a nice rhythmic sense, though not as fluid as the best versions. As the piece progresses from there, the slow tempo is more effective in places focusing on melody, whereas some other places, like the little stars section, for instance, lack a little something. The playing leading into the chains of trills is a bit sharp, and the trills are very clear, and while never wobbly or uneven, are not the absolute steadiest I've heard. The coda is also a bit on the blunt and plain side. It's nicely played, but we get no sonic hints of Elysium. Do I pick too many nits? Probably, but some nice moments, especially in the opening movement, do not result in a great recording of a sonata with a good number of great recordings.

Another cycle down. It varies in quality, as all cycles do. Some of the sonatas – 31/1, 2/1, 10/1, 26, 53, 57 – are superb, and can be compared to almost any other recording out there. Some of the other sonatas are not as much to my liking, though this obviously can vary by listener. I cannot rate this a great cycle, or a even a second tier cycle. Rather it mingles with the likes of many other cycles in my large third-tier: cycles with many redeeming qualities, but not quite up there with the big guns.

Sound is close and dry and almost forensic, but it is never really sharp or bright. As mentioned many times, the bass is beefy, and the left hand playing is more prominent than normal. How much of this is due to the recording, and how much to the playing, I cannot say. While the sound is generally superb, just a hair more distance would have rendered it ideal.



Amazon UK link for one of several download programs.

 

[Todd A]

Younwha Lee


About this time last year, I stumbled across Yaeko Yamane's Beethoven cycle. A Japanese market only release recorded in the 90s, it caught me by surprise because I was completely unaware of it, and of the pianist, and because of how much I liked the cycle. It is definitely an interventionist take on the works, and while not everything works equally well, Yamane's ideas and delivery do offer rich rewards in many works. But for St Annie, Yamane's cycle was perhaps the best I'd heard from a woman, with only Irina Mejoueva's set of comparable quality to my ears. This year, thanks to fellow forum friend Fred, it was Younwha Lee's turn. I can honestly say that before January 10, 2015, I had no idea Ms Lee existed, or that she had recorded a Beethoven cycle. Thanks to Mateus, I was able to finally find a Korean source for CDs, and one that happened to have the cycle, and for the not too bad price of about a hundred bucks all-in. Unlike Ms Yamane, though, it appears that Ms Lee, at least as far as recordings go, is a one trick pony: Whereas Yamane has recorded a good chunk of core rep, Lee has recorded only Lou's stuff. Of course, she did so for Sony Korea, so that seemed a positive sign. Her tutelage at UDub and Juilliard seemed to ensure technically fine playing. That she counts Ania Dorfman among her teachers places her in an at least somewhat distinguished pedagogical line, too. This cycle was started in 1994 and took until at least 1999 to complete, though I'm thinking it took longer. The five discs of the first volume were recorded in Japan, and the five discs of the second volume were recorded in Australia. The whole shebang was released in two clamshell boxes in 2007. I'm embarrassed to say I did not buy this until 2015.

The embarrassment got worse upon listening. No need to delay: Ms Lee's cycle kicks ass. She's a no-bullshit, high-energy performer of the music. She has no time for petty prettiness, nor does she wallow in sentiment, nor does she (usually) sacrifice the big picture to focus on detail. These are Beethoven's piano sonatas, dammit, so the only two things that need to be done are for her to play and the listener to listen.

The first disc contains three big 'name' sonatas: Tempest, Waldstein, and Appassionata. Perhaps the powers that be at Sony did not initially intend to record a cycle, or perhaps this was all part of the plan. Whatever the case, 31/2 starts the disc, and right from the start, Ms Lee plays the music in a way I dig. The opening arpeggio of the Largo, and the Largo itself – slow and moody. The Allegro – quick, fiery, and biting. If, as recorded (with a healthy dose of resonance), Ms Lee is not the world's greatest colorist, she far more than makes up for it with dynamic variegation, drive, and outright vigor. The slow Adagio makes good use of silences, and even better use of dynamic contrasts. The Allegretto, with Lee's bright, metallic tone, cruises along with a high degree of energy and moments of perfectly measured intensity. Op 53 starts off brisk, but not rushed, then moves into brisker, more dynamic playing, though Lee knows when to back off. But there's unstoppable forward drive. Perhaps some of the louder passages get just a smidge congested, but then this is more distantly recorded than some other sets. Also, some of the playing ends up teetering right on the edge of harshness, but that serves to ratchet up excitement. The Introduzione is somber and perfectly paced, and Lee builds up the tension in the forte passages by hitting sharp, metallic notes, which add a sense of urgency. The Rondo starts off with nimble, swift playing, before swelling into powerful, undulating playing. Again, some of the playing sounds almost harsh, but it never gets there, and though Lee is a straight-forward type of player, she allows herself some unique phrasing, but she absolutely always makes sure to keep things moving forward, at times almost breathlessly, though never recklessly. The coda is hammered out, perhaps right at the edge of Lee's technique, and it comes perilously close to banging. But it is thrilling, there is no doubt. Op 57 ends the disc. The opening Allegro is pounded out at the beginning, shorn of subtlety and beauty. The 'quieter' playing is imbued with a tense, jittery feel. There is no real respite. This is of St Annie and Richter levels of intensity – though not Richter level technical command. The Andante finally offers rest from the onslaught. It is calm, nearly serene. The tension slowly builds, until the third variation which is nearly as intense as some of the opening movement. The final variation is a slightly desperate sounding reprise of the theme. Then the Allegro ma non troppo erupts. Lee plays fast and decidedly furious. Again, subtlety and grace go AWOL. In their place are intensity and more intensity. Listeners who want more tonal beauty and delicacy should listen elsewhere, because Ms Lee is right up in your face. The dynamic range seems flattened a little to achieve the speed and intensity, but that is a trade worth making. Some of the phrasing seems a bit strained, and at least one edit close to 7' seems a bit abrupt, but so what? Whew! What an opening disc!

The second disc contains three more 'name' sonatas: Pathetique, Moonlight, and Les Adieux. It opens with Op 13, and Lee starts with a serious, slow Grave, then moves into a fast, intense, but scaled-back – when compared to Opp 53 and 57 – and classical reading of the Allegro. Make no mistake, it is loaded to the brim with brio, and it is no milquetoast reading; this can match any other reading out there for seriousness and intensity. Serkin? St Annie? Sure. The slightly tense Adagio cantabile finds Lee playing with a bit more tonal refinement and lyricism, but this is no salon piece. The Rondo starts off ever so slightly restrained, but very quickly moves into high intensity playing. Pacing, dynamics, rhythm: everything is just about right. 27/2 follows. The Adagio is comparatively brisk and tense and moody, and Lee doesn't bother to create an especially hazy sound. That's quite alright. The Allegretto is taut and clean, serving as a perfect bridge to the Presto agitato, which starts fast and moderately intense, but not too much so. This leaves a bit of leeway to exploit dynamic contrasts, with basically perfect (or something very close to it) sforzandi. Truth to tell, the playing takes on an almost academic air. It's as though a professor has grown weary of talented, naturally gifted students just not doing things right, so she has taken it upon herself to demonstrate how it's done. The disc ends with 81/a. The opening movement alternates nicely between slow-ish, almost meditative playing, and quicker, sharper, more intense playing. The right hand playing has real zing at times. The slow movement adds in some sharp left hand playing, too, but it never wallows. It is merely serious. The final movement expresses joy of a most vibrant type. Plenty of energy and drive are on offer, and if some of the playing sounds a bit congested, the overall feel is spot-on in the context of Lee's approach. The second disc nearly equals the opening disc.

The third disc ends up going back to the start, and covers the first three sonatas. 2/1 opens with swift, potent Allegro; moves to a slower, gentler Adagio, though not one that turns soft; transitions to a well-nigh perfectly paced and played Menuetto and Trio; and concludes with fiery Prestissimo. An almost perfect opener. 2/2 is, if anything, better yet. The Allegro vivace is quick, alert, light(-ish), and over quicker than its timing might imply. The Largo appassionato, taken at a quick clip more like a fast Adagio or slow Andante, never delves too deep, but it is a bit more serious, and is more intense than passionate, but that only serves to help matters. The Scherzo's outer sections are jaunty and fun, the trio more subdued and lyrical. The Rondo is comparatively breezy, except for the strikingly intense middle section. Everything just clicks. The final sonata of the opening threesome starts off quick but measured for the first theme, bursts into life during the chords and octaves, and basically goes back and forth for the rest of the movement. Throughout, Lee plays with superb dynamic variation, rock-solid rhythmic vitality, and a sense of fun. The Adagio, played at a more measured pace than other slow movements, is serious and searching. The tolling bass notes are restrained, and while intense in places, Lee keeps things well controlled. The Scherzo minuet sections have sharp, clean staccato playing, and the trio remains taut and tense. Lee plays the Allegro assai at a comfortable yet still fast pace, and she brings out more distinction between the left and right hand parts than normal at times. Everything about every movement of every one of these three sonatas is spot-on.

Disc four continues on sequentially with Op 7. Lee plays the opening Allegro at yet another perfectly judged tempo, maintains unfailing rhythmic acuity, plays the loudest chords at a satisfying but not overwhelming volume, and makes the work sound both serious and youthful at once. It is possible to have the best of both worlds. The Largo, slow and played with expertly judged pauses, is passionate yet restrained, and hints at bigger things. The Allegro is quick and jaunty in the outer sections, and the middle sections is a quasi-growling, intense interlude. Lee closes with an at times edgy, at times potent (especially in the middle section), always vibrant Rondo. 10/1 follows. Lee opts for a potent rather than blistering fast opening arpeggio. Again, Lee's sforzandi rock, her overall dynamic command is superb, and her mastery of transitions is more evident than before – and it was plenty evident before. The very Andante-like Adagio maintains forward momentum and a certain lightness. This is not musical heavy weather, though it's not at all lightweight. The Prestissimo is incisive and weighty, and if a few times it sounds a bit congested, the unyielding forward drive is simply a treat to listen to. 10/2 closes the disc. Lee lightens up a bit, at least in some passages. She reveals an attractive legato in some passages, yet she always remembers to punch out notes and chords where she should. She also plays at a slightly more leisurely than anticipated tempo in the opening movement. It's not slow, not at all, but it breathes a bit, as it were. The Allegretto is a bit heavier than expected, making for a nice overall contrast. The Presto, unfortunately, elicits my first serious complaint: Lee doesn't play the repeat. That's quite a pity given the rollicking good time she makes of it. Another superb disc down.

The last disc of the first volume opens with Op 10/3. As expected by this point, Lee plays the opening Presto swiftly and energetically, with a most satisfying dynamic range. She's not afraid to hammer on them keys (like in the coda). But she also knows when not to. The Largo opens s l o w, and stays that way most of the time. She builds up the tension and dynamics slowly – and I do like it when a pianist can play slow and loud – and if she never builds to a fever pitch of intensity, the darker, more brooding type she does generate is its own reward. The Allegro again offers a near perfect mix of tempi and dynamics, and the high voltage, fun Rondo finishes off a world class seventh sonata. Op 14/1 follows, and Lee holds nothing back. Fast and hard-hitting, she plays the sonata about as intensely as it can take, yet she never pulverizes the music. She slows down quite a bit in the Allegretto, but balances everything just right. The Rondo is another high-energy affair, especially the blistering middle section, which takes a back seat to no one in terms of excitement. Op 22 finishes off the disc. Lee plays the opening movement in an appropriate manner, but she also plays a few upper register notes in an unusual, flat way in the opening bars, and when the music returns, but the overall feeling of the movement is just right. Lee then softens up just the right amount for the Adagio. She also allows herself a few more personal touches, with tasteful rubato deployed in a few spots. The Menuetto and concluding Rondo are both played with plenty of energy, a few personal touches with respect to tempi and dynamics, and an occasionally sharp sounding right hand. Nothing harsh, mind you. It's just right. As is the entire first volume.

The second volume opens with 14/2. The recorded sound is noticeably different. It is closer, much closer, and much less resonant. It also has much less bass weight, and while Lee still plays with fine dynamic gradation, the change in recording technique affects overall dynamics. Big crescendos are less big; potent sforzandi are less potent. The playing has less drama, less oomph, less impact. All five discs in the second volume are similar, though some are a bit better that others. Anyway, Lee opens with another well-judged Allegro, here a bit gentler and lyrical, though the bright right hand playing is still evident. The Andante suffers from the recording technique. Tempo is fine, spirit is fine, but the dynamic contrasts are more subdued – too subdued. The Scherzo is crisp and fun, with Lee's rubato and nice use of a few micro-pauses becoming more evident with the closer sound. Op 26 follows. Lee plays the Andante theme at a pleasant pace and with a softer sound (the recording or playing?), and with a few personal touches – an accelerated arpeggio here, a bit of dynamic shading there. She then launches into a nicely varied set of variations, all well played and judged. But, again, some bass notes, in particular, sound comparatively anemic. The Scherzo displays more of that bite and intensity more evident in volume one, sans truly satisfying left hand playing, but is shows Lee in fine, if sometimes gruff form. The funeral march is somber and intense of spirit, but the listener has to fill in the lower register blanks. (Cranking the volume helps a bit.) The middle section is especially fiery. Lee pummels out the final movement with intensity and grit to spare. The lack of heft ends up not really mattering so much here. The disc concludes with Op 28. This is no lyrical, laid back Pastorale. This is a hard-hitting, driven performance. The Andante is slow and super serious, offering not respite, but something nearer gloom, except in the measured but fun-ish middle section, and sounds both urgent and lyrical in the final pages. The Scherzo has a biting sound to it. The trio sounds stiff and just a hair off, to what end I'm not quite sure. The final movement is taut and edgy, yet still lyrical enough, and builds to an intense climax in the middle and thunders out at the end after some perhaps less than one hundred percent tidy playing. Overall, a most enjoyable disc, even if sound is not what it could have or should have been.

Disc seven starts off with Op 27/1. Lee plays the Andante in a measured but stark way. The Allegro is fast and furious, and there's a bit more bass weight to enjoy, along with a somewhat gruff metallic patina in the loudest passages. She then moves back to a gentler Andante, and then back to potent playing the non-separately tracked Allegro molto e vivace, which ends in a bit of a congested, not overwhelmingly precise manner. The Adagio is slow and somber, and the Allegro vivace suitably energetic and muscular, though again it doesn't always match the most precise playing I've heard. 31/1 follows. Lee starts off ever so slow, but she quickly moves to a faster, more robust style, and dynamics approach the first volume. Lee plays the second movement in pretty much a straight-forward manner, with clean and sharp trills, uniquely accented left hand playing, rhythmic vitality, and a generally jovial sense in the outer sections. The concluding is all high-energy vigorousness. There are other ways to play it, but this works well. A rock-solid opener to the critical Op 31 trio, after an even better 31/2. The disc closes with the Op 49 sonatas. Both sonatas are a bit on the serious side, but both sound quite fine, the first, in particular.

Disc eight opens with the last of the critical Op 31 sonatas. Lee plays the opening bars in restrained fashion, but it doesn't take her long to adopt a nearly perfect tempo and demeanor. She takes care to offer some dynamic contrast while keeping the pep factor up there. She then speeds up more in the Scherzo, with clear and distinct left hand playing, some nice if not in your face explosive chords, and what sounds like one too noticeable edit. It's a rollicking good time. The Menuetto definitely follows the moderate and graceful designation, especially in the gentle trio. Lee then finishes off the work with a good time Presto con fuoco. It's a superb performance, and if it is not quite as relatively good as the other two Op 31 stablemates, Lee delivers a superb Op 31 trio overall, which is mandatory for any great cycle. Next up, Op 54. Lee plays the contrasting themes with very obvious contrast, with the second theme quite intense. (The fingernail accompaniment is also quite pronounced.) The second movement is sharp, quick, and moves relentless forward to the coda. Op 78 is next. After a serious Adagio opening, Lee plays the remaining Allegro of the opening movement pretty quickly, and with a sharp, intense sound more or less throughout. The second movement is quick and possessed of a nervous energy and surprisingly wide dynamic range. The disc ends with the first foray into the late sonatas with Op 101. Lee does an admirable job of establishing a transcendental, late-LvB sound with just a bit of bite to it in the opening movement. The march then immediately explodes, and boasts a nice dynamic range and sharp-edged playing, though it lacks the lower register heft of the volume one recordings, and has a few passages that are not under perfect control. Lee then goes back and forth between a transcendental Adagio and an intense, bright, fast, not entirely rock solid fugue that is undeniably exciting and loud.

Disc nine opens with Op 79, and somewhat predictably, Lee opens with a fast Presto all tedesca that never lets up, moves to a comparatively quick Andante, and ends with a fast Vivace. The sonata is over almost as soon as it starts, and is most enjoyable. Op 90 follows, and Lee again shows she's no wallflower, as she plays the music with enough oomph in the louder chords, and with a nice degree of gruff ferocity in the faster passages. This is not beautiful Beethoven at all; it is intense, aggravated music making. The second movement is lyrical, but it doesn't flow like some other recordings. It is stilted at times, and it has a few intense interruptions, and sounds a bit biting. The left hand playing, while lacking in weight, is still quite clear and can be followed more or less start to finish. A very good reading. The disc ends with 106. Lee plays the opening movement at a broad eleven-ish minutes, and it is bold, large in scale, and biting and metallic. But this doesn't detract from the proceedings. The playing does veer dangerously close to unruly banging at times, but it never quite gets there. There are also a number of passages where Lee pushes her technique beyond the breaking point, but better to take chances if the overall feel is right. The same observations hold true for the Scherzo. The Adagio is taken at a moderate pace, coming in at around eighteen minutes. Much of the time, Lee keeps things tense and searching and hotter rather than cooler, then around 12'-13', she cools things down quite a bit. The change is quite effective. The Largo is largely subdued and quiet and nicely paced, all the better to contrast with the percussive, explosive Allegro. Extremely high on excitement, not quite as high on precision and control, Lee powers her way through the fugue. It could be used an as alternative to coffee to wake one up in the morning.

The cycle ends in with the last three sonatas, which is always a good way to end a cycle. The close, metallic sound doesn't prevent Lee from almost immediately establishing a transcendental sound, and the measured overall tempo only helps. Lee also takes great care to offer nuanced dynamics. The Prestissimo is not rushed, but not slow, and Lee knows when to hammer out notes, and when to pull back. The Andante opens with the full late-LvB treatment. Measured, restrained, and Elysian. Yes, there's still some metal, but that works. As the variations unfold, Lee maintains that elusive late-LvB sound in the slower, quieter passages, and a more intense but almost ecstatic, if, perhaps, a bit gruff, feel in the fast passages. Op 110 is much the same. The opening movement alternates between moderate passages of some restraint and immoderate passages of more than a bit of expressiveness. Sounds about right. The second movement finds Lee hammering out notes right up to the point where some may find it to be banging. I find it to be the musical equivalent of splashing one's face with a large amount of cold water. The final movement starts with a taut, slightly tense, but satisfyingly ethereal Adagio, then, after a bizarre, extended lag between tracks six and seven on my copy, the fugue starts off austere and cold before moving to slicing and fierce – but not rushed. The second appearance of the arioso is cool and searching, and ends with repeated chords that build up to a satisfying climax before Lee plays the inverted fugue in an intense, partly exultant, partly angry (or at least angry sounding) manner, and then she just rushes right through the coda. It's blunt but effective. Op 111 opens with a blow away the cobwebs Maestoso, which is basically what I expected, and then moves to nervous, fiery, biting Allegro. No wimpy playing here. The Arietta sounds somewhat small is scale, just a bit rushed, with slightly clipped notes. It's not ethereal and transcendental in the first half – it's searching and somber. The second half is a bit cooler and calmer. Lee keeps the listener slightly off balance in the opening variation, leading with the left hand, as it were, and maintaining a slightly tense mien. The transition to the second variations is not exactly seamless, but the second variation does ratchet up tension a bit, and the boogie woogie variation even more so. After that, Lee moves on to a more transcendental sound. The “little stars” are quieter and luminescent, with the right hand definitely taking prominence over the very subdued left hand playing. The first long set of trills are clean and sharp, if not flawlessly steady. Once they are done, the listener gets to behold one vision of musical Elysium, albeit one still possessed of a sense of searching. The final set of trills see Lee playing the trills quietly, very quietly at times, as the melody moves to the fore, and the coda is not so much soothing or reassuring as almost questioning. It's really quite effective, and a strong end to a very strong cycle.

Overall, this cycle is the best one I've heard since Paul Badura-Skoda's Astree cycle. Like the PBS set, I place this in my second tier. This cycle is probably not for everyone. Those wanting tonal luster and beauty should look elsewhere. Lee can sound almost harsh, sometimes aggressive, and more than occasionally gruff, though never too much so. Those wanting a display of unlimited technical ability should look elsewhere – Korstick, Goodyear, Kikuchi, Pollini, or select sonatas from others like Richter. That's not to say that Lee cannot play well – she most certainly can and does – just that, first, she's not at the same level as those I listed, and second, that's not what her playing is all about. Those souls seeking a surfeit of individual, willful, or idiosyncratic playing should look elsewhere, too. And the set is definitely not for those who want the best possible modern sound. Those who want some superb, near-great, and great Beethoven playing, well, this set is for those people. Among women pianists, Lee trounces all others except St Annie, and is so good that limiting her to comparisons with only women pianists seems, and is, patently ridiculous.

In some ways, Ms Lee's set brings Friedrich Gulda's Amadeo cycle to mind. No, I don't think this cycle equals that one, but the cycle is something like a fresh start. It sort of reboots the whole listen-to-all-the-cycles undertaking for me, getting me ready for the next decade – well, the next dozen years – as cycle after cycle will undoubtedly arrive in time for the commemorations of 2020 and 2027. I'm more excited to hear more cycles now than in a good while. Look and listen long and hard enough, and one will be rewarded with a hitherto hidden gem.

 

[Todd A]

I don't care for Daniel-Ben Pienaar's Mozart. Relentlessly fast and jittery, and not recorded particularly well, I find the set a bit tiresome. The music largely wilts under Pienaar's fingers. Until now, the Mozart was my only exposure to his playing. When I read that he had recorded the 32, I was excited because it was another new cycle, but a bit wary because of the Mozart. Of course, Beethoven is not Mozart, and it's hard to say "No" to a new LvB sonata cycle, so I went for it. Perusing the presentation and timings, the twenty five minute Op 31/2 and twenty nine minute Op 111 aside, nothing seemed particularly noteworthy, and nothing seemed outside the realm of what has been done before. The cycle is presented chronologically, which is a reliable way to do it. And the pianist offers his own newly minted notes. In his notes, Pienaar references Gilels and Kempff and St Annie and Schnabel and Feinberg and Horowitz, and writes about how considering pedagogical history and the instruments of Beethoven's day compared to instruments today can create "another call on the personality and skills of the performer himself to make something that has integrity on its own terms – indeed a life of its own." (Italics are original.) This reveals Pienaar's approach and ambition. An ambitious pianist with superb technique can indeed produce art of the highest order. Does Pienaar succeed?

Well . . .

Disc one includes the Op 2 sonatas. Pienaar plays the opening Allegro of 2/1 at a suitable speed, generating a nice degree of intensity. He also deploys rubato that sounds somewhat arbitrary. The slightly quick Adagio offers more of the same in every regard. Pienaar keeps the Menuetto fluid and appealing, and plays the Prestissimo with a nice blend of shard-edged intensity, flawless execution, and personal touches. His dynamic control is most impressive. But the parts exceed the sum. I like it, just not as much as I should. 2/2 offers more of the same – but better. Within a conventional overall timing for the Allegro vivace (sans the repeat), Pienaar offers rhythmic and dynamic flexibility aplenty, and the right hand runs are most appealing. The Largo is a true Largo. Slow, yet displaying the same flexibility, Pienaar dives deeper here than in 2/1's slow movement. This is serious, thoughtful playing. The gentle insistence of the right hand playing is uncommonly effective. After a long pause, the Scherzo skips into life. The overall tempo is relaxed and the overall feel is an unusual admixture of seriousness and fun, with a dash of greater seriousness in the trio. The Rondo is a model of effortless dynamic fluidity mixed with unique rubato and phrasing. 2/3 opens with a swift and vigorous Allegro con brio. Pienaar never seems content to just play the music, rather choosing to infuse every bar with something unique. His control when accelerating or cranking up the volume is masterly, and perhaps even more impressive, his diminuendos at times display shading so quick yet subtle as to require the listener to halt other activities so as not to miss even a note, or the space between the notes. The Adagio is dramatic and searching, and Pienaar elicits a unique, distant sound when striking the tolling bass notes. The Scherzo is generally quick and jittery, with the right hand playing prone to outbursts, and the trio boasts crazy good right hand playing. Like the playing or not, this is a match for anyone's. The Allegro assai is a playful, unabashedly virtuosic romp dispatched as well as one could hope. The first disc ends up being difficult to assess in some ways. The playing is splendid, the control absolute, and it is full of ideas, many of which – most of which – succeed, but it doesn't necessarily jump to the head of the pack. It needs further consideration. Though decidedly different, the best overall comparison for me is to Anton Kuerti's strongly individual cycle. I prefer Pienaar in these works (and cannot wait for the later works), but Pienaar appears to have put in a similar degree of thought into the pieces.

Op 7 opens with an Allegro molto e con brio of not a little rhythmic vitality and masterly dynamic control, with bright, unrestrained chords. Pienaar also manages to keep forward momentum chuggin' along while tinkering with tempo and throwing in a micro-pause or two. Pienaar shows that he knows how to do Largos. Slow and nuanced and lovely, he never rushes yet always maintains a discernible forward pulse. He then plays the Allegro in an exaggeratedly slow yet beautiful fashion. How can such playing not sound lumbering and impossibly heavy? I don't know, but it doesn't. Even the middle section is played slower than normal, and it, too, succeeds. The bass never growls or imposes itself – it's more a gentle musical boil. The Rondo, except for a speedy and stormy middle section with nifty left hand figurations, is all about restraint and lyricism. 10/1 opens with lightning fast ascending arpeggios that still sound somewhat light and utterly effortless. The playing remains high-energy all the way through, and Pienaar plays some of the music around 3'15" with unique accents. The slow Adagio displays more of the forensic flexibility displayed in prior slow movements, and once again rates high on the (mutable) taste scale. The are so many felicitous little touches sprinkled throughout that listing them would result in at least a thousand word paragraph. The Prestissimo is is indeed a Prestissimo. Pienaar plays most of the music at almost player piano velocity and precision, but he also slows down to savor a few passages. 10/2 closes the disc, and Pienaar plays with wit and a sense of fun, and more tasteful flexibility, including a cartoonishly fast but perfectly executed Presto. (Listening to this made me want to jump immediately to 31/1, but I stopped myself.) Yes, the playing is very individual, even idiosyncratic, but it all jells, it all flows "naturally". My only beef is that Pienaar, like Younwha Lee so recently, omits the third movement repeat. Why, why, why, why?!? I guess I will have to live with it.

The third disc opens with 10/3, and Pienaar offers more of the same. The Presto, taken at a fine tempo and displaying some passages of speediness and showy digital dexterity, also boasts an uncommon degree of flexibility. Pienaar slows down around six and half minutes and plays each note in deliberate, underscored fashion for a few seconds, before dispatching the coda with flair. Pienaar again delivers an extremely fine Largo. Slow, with a wide dynamic range, and perfectly maintained musical line and forward momentum, there is a sense of drama and urgency, which Pienaar builds to a satisfying climax. The Menuetto starts off slower than normal, and more or less stays that way, with even the middle section played slower than normal and with heavily accented, lumbering notes that nonetheless work well. The Rondo sounds a bit languorous at times, with the playing drooping in energy for a while before picking up the pace nearer the end, almost like a musical jest. The Pathetique follows, and the Grave sounds suitably serious and dramatic, with some front-loaded phrases adding a nice touch. The Allegro displays that fast, jittery sound I found unpleasant in Mozart. It's much more successful here. The agitated, scampering sound of the playing may put some off, and some of the right hand runs display the almost cartoonishly fast playing first heard in 10/2. The Adagio sounds lyrical and for the most part lovely, though the right hand playing dominates proceedings most of the time, and Pienaar's penchant for jittery playing appears in the accompaniment. Here, I think it works. Others may very well disagree. The Rondo pushes the individual playing right into willful/idiosyncratic territory. Some of the playing does draw more attention to the pianist than the music, but at least Pienaar has the goods to back it up. 14/1 follows. It opens with a slightly broad Allegro, benefits from some pedal augmented scale, and generally sounds like great fun. Anytime Pienaar needs to play fast, he seems to relish the opportunity. The Allegretto is on the slow side. Some notes and chords get to fade away, other blend into the subsequent playing, and if the playing is again more about the pianist than the music, the effect is striking. The Rondo, like the opening movement, sounds a bit bigger in scale than normal. While not heavy or overly serious, it seems to push the boundaries of what the music can take. 14/2 is a bit lighter in the opening Allegro, and again, not a bar goes by where Pienaar doesn't tinker with something, though always to good effect. Pienaar's tendency to emphasize the melody is inverted for a while in the Andante, with the accompaniment coming to the fore, but with playing this good, it all works. The Scherzo is zippy and Pienaar plays with tasteful virtuosity, dashing off some passages with insouciant ease.

Disc four opens with Op 22, and right in the opening bars, Pienaar can't help but tinker, and as the Allegro con brio unfolds, he dazzles with his stupefyingly good dynamic control and elastic tempo changes within a movement of well judged overall tempo and plenty of energy. The songful, slow, contemplative Adagio moves along at something more akin to a Largo, so slow does Pienaar play it. But it works. And that piano and pianissimo playing is something else. The Menuetto remains largely subdued, with much nuanced quiet playing, except for the boisterous middle section, and the Rondo is played with large slugs of exuberant energy and gobs of dynamic shading. Pienaar starts off Op 26 with a slower than normal Andante, of not a little beauty, and he plays most of the variations slower than normal. Sometimes clear, sometimes lyrical, each variation is its own little world. The Scherzo, in contrast, is zipped through, and contains jarring dynamic swings, and superb precision. The Funeral March starts off slow and somewhat subdued, and decidedly serious. Pienaar largely avoids playing the piece very loud, though in the middle section, in the midst of of restrained bass tremolos, he does pound out some playing. Pienaar never really lets the concluding Allegro just flow, instead using accents and dynamic shifts throughout, creating a slightly stilted sound. It's an impressive display of pianistic jiggery-pokery, but I'm not sure if it is entirely successful. The disc ends with 27/1, and Pienaar continues on with heavy-duty interventionism. The opening chords are lightly pecked out, with the rest of the Andante approaching something more conventional. The Allegro is insanely fast, and the return of the opening theme is much like what came before. The contrast between the sections is evident and obvious. Too much so? Maybe. The Allegro molto e vivace, played swiftly but slower than the Allegro section in the first movement, has some unusual – not to say bizarre – left hand playing that overpowers the delicate right hand playing, and has a purposely stiff and sightly aggressive mien. This gives way to a lovely Adagio, with prominence of hands reversed, including at times nearly inaudible accompaniment. The Allegro vivace has more speedy, speedy, speedy playing, some uniquely (oddly?) emphasized right hand chords, builds to a towering climax, and then the return of the opening material is played basically straight and quite beautifully. The whole thing ends with a dashed off Presto. It's only about fifteen minutes, but it's packed full of more ideas and interpretive tricks than most sonatas twice as long.

The Mondschein opens disc five. Pienaar maintains a remarkably steady tempo throughout, and without creating much musical haze manages to impart a sense of solemnity. He generally keeps things subdued, though he builds up to either a really loud mezzo-forte or a plain old forte – in any event, it's louder than one usually hears. He also plays some of the arpeggios in a manner I can't recall having heard before. The Allegretto is perfectly paced and maintains a somewhat somber air. The Presto agitato is of the fast and furious type, with some crashing chords, and the blurred right hand playing is occasionally harsh and bright, but in good ways. This is a definitely a unique reading, and it is definitely an exceptionally fine one. This is one to compare directly to the big guns. Op 28 opens with a twitchy bass line underpinning the lyrical right hand playing in the Allegro. While Pienaar does play slower passages well, it is the faster passages that really shine. The mix of recording technique and playing result in some less than ideally clear right hand playing, but the effect is exciting. The climax of the development section is intense and loud and underpinned by an insistent left hand. The movement never really sounds relaxed at all; it is always slightly on edge. The Andante continues on in the same vein in the outer sections. The middle section really just offers more of the same. While the playing can sound attractive at times, the whole thing is wound tight. That's not to say it doesn't work. It most certainly does. The Scherzo stomps and crashes through the outer sections, and is all controlled recklessness in the middle section. The final movement relaxes the tension just a bit, and has some ravishing playing. Pienaar plays the first big climax with wonderful cascading right hand notes, and ends with a corker of a coda. Another unique and great, or at least near-great, recording. 31/1 ends the disc, and boy did I want to hear this. I was not disappointed. Pienaar plays fast and aggressive, but it's playfully aggressive. The stuttering chords are hammered out, with perfectly uncoordinated playing. It's like Pienaar gleefully assumes the role of hyper-virtuoso, laughing a sinister laugh as he plays. The trills in the Adagio are among the best, perhaps the best, I've heard. Fast and incredibly even, and played over a rock steady left hand, they dazzle. But things get better. The right hand playing soars and flows and just sounds right. The middle section is joyful and just a bit klutzy in parts. And did I mention his trills? The Rondo is a perfect blend of energy, weight, rhythmic snappiness, and witty verve. And just how does he play with such perfect independence of hands and make the piano laugh between about 3'30 and 4'30? This recording is right up there with Gulda and Sherman and Kuerti qualitatively. That is, it is as good as it gets. A great disc.

Disc six opens with 31/2. Pienaar stretches out the arpeggios in the opening Largo just about as far they can go, and plays with remarkable dynamic control on the quiet end of the spectrum. Then, as expected, the Allegro is fast, articulate, dynamically wide ranging, and at times a bit jittery – but here jittery works. So does the near-clangorous forte playing. I can't say that Pienaar establishes much of a mood. He just displays supremely fine piano playing. The slower than normal Adagio offers more stretched out slow passages and an artificial stateliness. It's an act, as it were. But what an act! The Allegretto flows fluidly, and has some nice, beefy left hand playing at all the right times. Some rubato draws perhaps just a bit too much attention to itself. Or maybe it doesn't. The sonata is not quite as relatively great as 31/1, but make no mistake this is a contender, still able to be compared directly to super-heavyweights. Call it a top ten performance. 31/3 starts off with slightly blurred chords, moves to purposefully rhythmically unsteady playing, spiced up with superb trills, and then moves into some fun and energetic playing. The Allegro never seems to establish a steady pulse, instead seeming to be a simultaneously winking and snarky joke. Those disliking interventionist playing may very well strongly dislike this. The Scherzo zips along with a steadier rhythmic pulse, and Pienaar keeps the volume at sensible levels – all the better to jar with the thumping loud chords when they appear. It's a rollicking good time. The slightly tense but attractive Menuetto sounds fairly conventional, but has some tasty individual elements tossed in. The Presto con fuoco is of the super-high speed, over-the-top variety, all fun and games, and it offers Pienaar yet another chance to show off what he can do. Those wanting self-effacing playing will probably not fancy this. But the infectious energy level threatens CDC involvement, so color me a fan. Another easy top-ten choice. Possibly a top-five choice. Pienaar delivers a blockbuster Op 31, which is a prerequisite for a great cycle. The rest of the disc is consumed by the Op 49 ditties. Pienaar tinkers with tempo quite a bit, and a few times threatens to make the pieces just a bit more serious than they are, but he never quite does, and both pieces sound just spiffy.

The next disc is an Op 50-something feast. The Waldstein opens fast, and then gets faster – it's that cartoonishly fast style again. Pienaar has the chops to pull it off. No compressed dynamics here, for instance. It can seem a bit relentless at times, though never harsh or ugly. And when the music slows down, there is more to enjoy in terms of dynamics and individual touches. That said, the movement always has a tense, jittery feel. Subtle is not a word I would use to describe it. The Introduzione is far more restrained, and chock-full of pauses. Mannered? Perhaps. Wait, make that definitely. But it's also effective. Pienaar also coaxes a more appealing tone from his instrument. The Rondo opens with a lovely Allegretto moderato with a most expertly judged tempo – no need to rush. The superb trills usher in a fast, furious, clangy, biting Prestissimo. Pienaar again deploys personal rubato and wide dynamic swings to good effect. The interpretation strikes me as a bit superficial, but the execution is well nigh perfect. The opening movement of Op 54 offers an object lesson in thematic contrast, the first theme slower and gentler and slightly stiffer in presentation, the second fiercely played and loud. The second movement is played with plenty of drive and energy, but not at an especially fast speed. Some of the dynamic contrasts seem slightly exaggerated – perhaps emphasized is a better word – though the effect is not at all deleterious. Op 57 wraps up the disc, and the timing of just over nine minutes promises high-velocity, high-intensity music-making, and Pienaar does not disappoint. It opens at a slightly brisk pace, but nothing too rushed, and nothing too intense, but then, Whammo!, Pienaar cranks up the pianistic volume to an ear-splitting fortissimo and plays an crazy fast speed, then when he backs off, he introduces jittery left hand playing. There is no rest. There is no real let up in tension. All slower, quieter passages are merely wind-ups for the next outburst. Pienaar's command is total, and awesome to hear. The Andante offers a rest and is played at a comfortable seven minutes. Pienaar plays the theme and first two variations in a mostly relaxed and attractive manner. Tension returns in the third variation, as does a cutting right hand sound. The final variation has hints of heftiness, and the crashing final chord announces the arrival of the finale, which, as with the opening movement, starts off restrained, so as to allow for build up to, and contrast with, the tumult to come. Some may think of it more as an aural assault. Nearly and actually harsh right hand playing; crashing left hand chords; fast, faster, and faster yet playing just because; jittery, tense, nerve-wracking playing: this final movement is not a gentle or even only mildly rough closer. It's a bruiser. But isn't that kind of the point here?

Disc eight opens with a fairly conventional Op 78. The tempi are not exaggerated, the rubato is held at bay for the most part. The main distinction here is the really wide dynamic range, capped by sharp, metallic right hand playing. The approach may be a shade too intense for this piece. Op 79 opens with a slower than anticipated Presto alla tedesca. That is, or can be, quite alright, but here the playing sounds somewhat stilted, and the cuckoo motif sounds a bit heavy. The Andante is restrained and both attractive and a bit somber, and the concluding Vivace is good, clean fun. The first movement of Op 81/a swells and undulates quite nicely, and elicits a sense more of a celebratory farewell than a forlorn one. Pienaar throws in some smaller touches here and there, but nothing too extreme. The second movement ends up being where the forlorn mood appears, though I hesitate to describe it as especially deep. That's not to say it's not appealing – it is definitely that. Pienaar's personal style becomes more evident in the bars leading up to the transition to the final movement, but again, it's not excessive. The final movement is more of a return to Pienaar-style playing: fast, jittery right hand playing, swelling left hand playing, even faster and jitterier right hand playing, near cartoonish speed. It could very well turn some people off. It is certainly celebratory. But – and I don't mean this as a particular criticism, nor do I mean it as praise – at times it reminds me of how an exuberant puppy might welcome his master home, tail wagging feverishly (that jittery right hand) and slobber flying (the accompaniment). It's not unappealing in its own way, but it's not the best one can hear. Op 90 ends the disc, and depending on how one likes this sonata to go, the opening movement can be viewed as edgy and intense to just the right degree, or perhaps a bit too much. Here, I tend more toward the former. The second movement, which I prefer to be played in a very Schubertian way, does display a nice amount of lyricism, but it never shakes a slightly tense feel. That's definitely just an observation. It the best work on the disc, which overall is the least strong disc in the set to this point.

The ninth disc starts in on the late sonatas. In Op 101, Pienaar does a fine job of establishing a transcendental sound in the opening movement, with rubato applied judiciously, and a basically perfect overall tempo. The march is characterized by explosive dynamics and lots of loud playing, and more noticeable rubato. It moves forward at a nice clip, and fits right in. The Adagio is darker hued and more serious than the opening movement, and again regains that late-LvB sound I prefer, and is pretty much straight-forward. The final movement, well, let's just say this offers Pienaar a chance to play fast and display digital dexterity. Quick, generally quite clear – it sounds more closely miked than most prior recordings, and has some mechanism sounds to prove it – energetic, bright, benefiting from/beset by personal rubato, the playing is best described as upbeat and almost fun – fun late Beethoven? – as Pienaar dashes through the piece. An auspicious start to the late sonatas. 106 follows. Given Pienaar's penchant for crazy fast playing, it's something of a shame that he didn't opt for a faster tempo than he did, though he still brings in the opening movement at 10'18". Large of scale, swift of tempo, and laden with rubato, the playing is exciting and very well executed, though it seems that here he pushes himself as far as he can go. Pienaar plays the middle of the movement with a galloping rhythm that is quite intriguing, and unique in my experience. The Scherzo offers more of the same, with some unique weighting for the accompaniment. The Adagio often offers pianists plenty of room for interpretation, and Pienaar takes advantage of that. While roughly standard in terms of overall tempo at 18'33" (actual playing time), the little touches are evident from the get go. Quieter than the first two movements, offering the ears a rest, Pienaar plays some phrases fast and then sits on some chords for a while. He maintains a tense feel throughout, and he never establishes a feeling of coolness or desolation or resignation. There's internal struggle instead. The final movement opens with a not particularly slow Largo that glides gracefully to the fugue. Yes, it's fast. Yes, it's more than occasionally loud. It's also more than occasionally not loud. And the improved clarity of the recording (from 2014; the sonatas before Op 101 are from 2012 and 2013) allows one to better hear the different voices. This is indeed a high energy, high intensity take. I had high expectations for this sonata, and Pienaar does not disappoint.

The final disc starts off with Op 109, which starts off fast. Pienaar alternates the fast and slow sections with a nice degree of contrast, and in the slow portions he taps into that late LvB sound world. The Prestissimo is indeed very fast, but not as fast as Pienaar can play. The dynamic contrasts are predictably significant, and rubato is deployed effectively, and the movement ends bluntly. The final movement opens with a serene, sublime theme delivered in fine late-LvB fashion, and Pienaar proceeds through the variations in near-perfect form. Whether fast or slow, loud or quiet, he never abandons the overall feel of the piece, and he ends on an elevated plane. Op 110 opens with a fast but lyrical and sublime Moderato cantabile. Right around three minutes, and for a good stretch, Pienaar's back and forth between right hand and left is like some type of profound mini-duet. He adds little touches and emphases to well known music, and all fit, and all help maintain a perfect feel. The Allegro molto is of the fast and furious type, and is over in a flash, but again, some of the little touches are nearly mesmerizing. As impressive and powerful as the lower register playing can be, the right hand playing occasionally spins off into ethereal wonderousness. Pienaar segues effortlessly to the final movement, and the first arioso section is lovely and doleful in perfect proportion. The fugue is swift and serious to open. Pienaar keeps the playing clear, gradually ratchets up tension, and seems to speed up just a bit as the piece moves on. The second arioso section is quicker and less doleful than the first, and definitely against expectations, Pienaar does not build up the repeated chords at the end to a thundering climax, rather keeping everything under perfect, finely graded control. The inverted fugue is played very fast and clean and builds to a satisfying and quick coda. Op 111 opens with a potent, but slightly hesitant Maestoso colored by pedaling effects. The Allegro is intense, fast, but while not dynamically challenged, it lacks the vast dynamic range of earlier recordings in the cycle. Pienaar also throws in some rubato, and likes to front-load some phrases, as it were. Overall, it's extremely effective. The Arietta is very slow to start. Pienaar immediately establishes an Elysian feel and maintains the right amount of tension as the piece very slowly progresses. The second half of the Arietta is cooler but just as beautiful, just as profound. The first variation is slow and somber. The second is a little less slow, and a bit more tense, but keeps in the right mood. The boogie woogie variation is a bit unexpected. It is not played at a break-neck pace, but it is played with a big dynamic range and a solid rhythmic sense, though nothing of the proto-jazz variety. Pienaar then very quickly brings the volume down substantially and transitions to a more transcendental style. The "little stars" are sublime, and played over a remarkably delicate left hand most of the time. The first set of trills lives up to high expectations, and Pienaar, rather like Yaeko Yamane, plays some of them using the gentlest pianissimo, mere brushes against the keys. The second set of trills is even better, even lighter, even more feathery. The coda is gentle and lovely, a quiet moment of contemplation. Though nearly a half-hour, at no time does the piece seem to lag or seem too slow. It is a a sublime end to an outstanding cycle.

Last year, I listened to several cycles in a row that left me disappointed, or at least not overly excited. Already this year, I have listened to one that makes it into my second tier (Younwha Lee) and now one that cracks my top ten. Yes, Daniel-Ben Pienaar knocks Artur Schnabel from his position*, and bypasses my last high-water mark set from Paul Badura-Skoda. This is easily the best of the three new cycles I've listened to this year, and Pienaar's playing, in purely pianistic terms, dwarfs both Lee and Michael Houstoun. It is an often awesome and even more often self-indulgent take on the music. Those who want a straight-forward set should probably go ahead and spend money and time on something else, because this is highly idiosyncratic start to finish. For years, I've secretly longed for Ivo Pogorelich to record a complete cycle. Now, not so much. Whatever Pogorelich may have done in his prime couldn't have surpassed this, except in tonal beauty. This may not be The One, the set that smites all others, because there almost certainly will never be, can never be, such a set. But Pienaar joins the decidedly different Andrea Lucchesini as one of the two great cycles from this century to my ears. I eagerly await a new challenger. I'm looking at you Ragna Schirmer.

As to sound, this cycle has the same production team as Pienaar's Mozart cycle, and not surprisingly has the same sound issues – generally too reverberant and with a blurred mid-range. The late sonatas sound better overall, but display the same traits to a degree. The cycle was recorded between 2012 and 2014. There's no reason sound couldn't have been SOTA, so clearly this is what the pianist wanted. Of course, the sound might also be a function of the instrument used. The upper registers, in particular, often sound brighter and tangier – almost Bösendorfer-y (even more so in the Diabellis, commented on later) – than is usual for a Steinway. Maybe a Yamaha was used, or something else, or perhaps the recording technique and editing resulted in the sound one hears. Whatever the case, the playing lacks the tonal luster and beauty one hears in a fair number of recordings of Steinways.





* Displacing a long-standing member of the Elite is significant enough to warrant some A/B comparisons, so that's what I did – Schnabel vs Pienaar in three sonatas: 10/1, 31/3, and 109. For the Schnabel cycle, I have the Dante transfers, which have always served me well. It has been a while since last I listened to Schnabel, and it turns out they still serve me well. Anyway, Schnabel's 10/1 still holds up. He lacks Pienaar's command, but the opening movement is still high-energy, and it sure seems like Pienaar may have been slightly influenced by the playing. Truth to tell, Schnabel plumbs the depths of the second movement a bit better than Pienaar, and his final movement is almost recklessly fast and exciting. Pienaar's set, though not in SOTA sound, benefits from modern sound, especially when it comes to dynamic gradations. Winner: Basically a tie. In 31/3, Schnabel plays fast and energetic, with an especially fun Scherzo complete with delightful outbursts, and a touching Menuetto, and a deliciously witty if perhaps a bit ragged Presto con fouco. He lacks Pienaar's dynamic flexibility and strong individuality. Winner: Pienaar. Schnabel takes the first two movements of 109 briskly, and rushes the coda of the second movement, but still does an estimable job of establishing a late-LvB soundworld, especially in the first movement. In the last movement, Schnabel opens with a beautiful Andante and progresses through the variations in a generally transcendental, and often just a bit rushed, way. Moments of less than absolute control are of no real consequence. This is exceptionally good late Beethoven. Just not as good as Pienaar's. Everything Schnabel does, Pienaar does better, and with more flexibility and control. Winner: Pienaar. So, I prefer Pienaar in two out of three sonatas selected. That's not a definitive comparison, of course, but it indicates that Pienaar has got the goods.



Amazon UK link



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Diabelli Addendum

If a pianist records the sonatas and the Diabelli Variations – and the Op 126 Bagatelles as here – it kind of makes sense to go ahead and listen to those, too. The recording seems like a natural extension of the sonatas. Recorded in 2011, with slightly more distant sonics, the playing is unmistakably Pienaar's. The fast playing comes in three varieties: fast; really fast; and really, really ridiculously fast. The Allegro assai, variation 23, would fall into that last category. The control is superb, the forward momentum unstoppable. But there's more than that. The slower playing, like in the Andante fugue variation 24, maintains the same forward momentum, but is measured and clear. Pienaar's dynamics are also evident throughout, and his penchant for rubato and interventionist playing. All the same traits that make the sonatas such a success are there for Op 120, too. The crisp, under fifty minute timing also seems to go by quicker than its already short duration indicates. Op 126 is much the same. All the same devices are deployed effectively. I don't think I've heard a faster Presto to open the last Bagatelle, and the Andante is both serious and humorous in equal measure. No, Pienaar does not match Serkin's 1957 recording of the Diabellis – no one else does, either – nor does he match Brendel or Sanchez in the Bagatelles, but it seems necessary to compare him to the best. Pienaar is definitely at home in late Beethoven.



Amazon UK link

 

[formbypc]

Do you type these analyses up on the basis of your first listen to each, or on the basis of repeated listening?

 

[Todd A]

Do you type these analyses up on the basis of your first listen to each, or on the basis of repeated listening?

Depends. Generally, I listen more than once. Sometimes, as with Bouboulidi, I doubt I can listen to the whole cycle again, so everything is based on one hearing.

 

[mattgbell]

Your efforts are heroic. Many thanks for this thread.

 

[k90tour]

Heroic indeed and booked marked for reference. And I thought three Ring Cycles was a lot. Clearly I could buy a couple more.

 

[formbypc]

Heroic indeed and booked marked for reference. And I thought three Ring Cycles was a lot. Clearly I could buy a couple more.

I thought I was going the extra mile with over a dozen versions of Deep Purple's Machine Head, but .....

 

[Todd A]

About six years ago I picked up Takahiro Sonoda's Denon LvB sonata cycle and enjoyed it quite a bit, and rated it possibly the finest cycle by a Japanese pianist. Fast-forward six years, and I still enjoy it quite a bit and rate it as perhaps the best cycle by a Japanese pianist, though Yusuke Kikiuchi's cycle offers serious competition. I was tempted to try Sonoda's Evica cycle, but given its extremely high price, I hesitated. Well, thanks to the Bank of Japan's wise monetary policies under Shinzo Abe, the price for the set finally came down to a reasonable-ish level, so I decided to buy. Even at a reasonable-ish price, this is the most expensive cycle I've bought. I hoped it would be good. I repeated silently to myself (I hope it was silently): I will love this set! I will love this set! Man, I wanted it to be good. Better than good.

I started off with sonata #1. Right out of the gate, Sonoda sounds serious, sober, formal, unfrilly, and measured. His tempo choices are just a bit on the broad side, but they are unwaveringly steady. A metronome could be calibrated against his playing. His dynamic range is more limited than some other pianists, which is most notable in the Prestissimo, but the unrelenting but slightly measured forward drive and still satisfying dynamic range is its own reward. 2/2 opens with an energetic and vivacious, but still serious, Allegro vivace, and any concerns about dynamics vaporize as Sonoda plays with a very wide range indeed. His left hand playing is also very clean, clear, and punchy. The Largo displays rock steady rhythm and sounds almost like a funeral march at times. The serious but vivacious Scherzo is punched out in the outer sections, and has a middle section containing an appealing degree of urgency. The Rondo sounds largely similar, and displays great clarity of voices and broad dynamics. 2/3 opens a bit somberly, but soon enough Sonoda's playing takes off – well, sort of. It's suitably fast and energetic, but in a self-contained way. The Adagio is somber and serious, and played at a tempo that allows a bit of tension to build up, and some of the tolling notes thunder nicely. The Scherzo here is quick and moves forward with an unyielding drive. Nice! Sonoda infuses the Allegro assai with verve and snap, and if it is not the last word in unabashed virtuosic showmanship, it is more than virtuosic enough. A wholly satisfying start to the cycle.

The Op 10 trio followed. In the first sonata, Sonoda starts off the Allegro with a slightly deliberate but well paced and clear ascending arpeggios. The rest of the movement is deadly serious and has that unrelenting but not overbearing forward drive of earlier sonatas. The Adagio is sensibly paced and pleasantly austere, with Sonoda's right hand playing adding a bit of bite where appropriate. The Prestissimo opens with a slow and deliberate mien, and then picks up the pace, and then repeats the style. It is not a barn-storming take, but rather a serious one. 10/2 starts off with a rhythmically snappy Allegro, and while light enough, it doesn't shake the seriousness of Sonoda's playing. That's a good thing. The Allegretto sounds tense and serious start to finish. The Presto, with repeat, finds Sonoda easing up just a bit, and displays pep along with rhythmic snap. The 10/3 Presto starts off just a smidgeon slow, but in very short order Sonoda adopts a just right tempo. Everything about it is just right, in a very serious way. Not surprisingly, the Largo e mesto starts off serious, almost severe, and while slow, it is quicker than the Largo designation hints at. Sonoda never eases up during the movement, playing with tension throughout, even making just repeated right hands notes around the five minute sound tense. He ratchets up the tension to the big climax nicely, but the climax is strangely anti-climactic and small in scale. But he winds down the movement expertly, and ends in a desolate, 106 slow movement fashion. Nice! (Again.) The Menuetto and (especially) the Rondo lighten things up quite a bit, but again Sonoda never just lets loose. The playing is all very controlled. The disc is filled out with the Opp 76 and 80 Variations, and the Op 89 Polonaise. All are played in lighter fashion than the sonatas, and all sound just spiffy. Another wholly satisfying disc.

Op 7 followed. Sonoda adopts a just right tempo for the Allegro, plays forcefully and with that relentless but not overdone forward drive. He pushes right through to the end, slowing for nothing. The Largo offers a nice contrast, but here Sonoda keeps the tempo on the slightly swift side for the designation, at least near the beginning. He plays it straight, and hammers out loud chords where appropriate. The piano may be brightish, but the mood is dark. As the movement continues, Sonoda slows down a bit and the playing becomes a bit "cooler", though still punctuated with powerful playing when needed. The Allegro is quick, snappy, and both light and serious in the outer sections, and the middle sections growls and displays more super-rock-steady left hand playing that is a treat to hear. The Rondo is quick and tense, and renders the whole sonata heftier and more serious than it probably ought to be, but Sonoda judges everything so well, that he pulls it off. Op 13 follows. Sonoda hammers out the right hand chords, and uses the sostenuto pedal to good if perhaps over-obvious effect, and he plays the Allegro (somewhat) surprisingly quickly. The relentless playing becomes nearly jittery, but remains supremely controlled, and both hands are clear throughout. The coda is as thrilling as it is potent. This is one fine opener. The Adagio slows things down, and while Sonoda cannot be said to play with a tonally lustrous legato, he does indeed make most of the music songlike. The closing Rondo is played at another just-right tempo and eases up a bit from the intensity of the first movement, but nonetheless displays enough musical heft to satisfy this listener. A top shelf Pathetique. The disc closes with Op 26, and Sonoda's super-serious style suits the opening movement by making it graver than it should be. The variations do sound reasonably differentiated, but the striking staccato and pointed sforzandi Sonoda like to deploy renders the movement more middle or late sounding than usual. (This trait was evident in his Denon cycle, too.) The Scherzo just speeds things up a bit – and I mean that as praise. Such hefty, serious playing translates into a stern, formal funeral march, which, while boasting nice dynamics, remains somewhat constrained – but in a good way. Sonoda wraps up the sonata with a perpetual motion Allegro of not a little vitality and weight. Another wholly satisfying disc.

Next, it seemed a good idea to go for the "Easy Sonatas" disc, filled with the Opp 14, 49, and 79 sonatas, plus some filler. 14/1 starts off the disc, and while still a bit on the serious side, and while displaying a bit of ringing in the upper registers, Sonoda lightens up, and the whole sonata sounds just about right. Not rushed, definitely not slow, not too light, it's good, solid, early Beethoven. 14/2, as is so often case, is better. More lyrical and fun, Sonoda displays something of a soft side, in a buttoned-down sort of way. The Op 49 sonatas get even lighter treatment, the second especially. It's actually charming here, with nary a hint of excess seriousness. Op 79 opens with some too heavy chords, but quickly recovers, though the Presto alla tedesca is not especially quick. The disc also includes the Op 63 and Op 70 variations, both nicely done; a somewhat somber Für Elise; and the 6 Ecossaisen, also nicely done, with an almost danceable rhythm. Yet another wholly satisfying disc.

Next up was a single sonata disc, which contains only Op 28, along with the Opp 34 and 35 variations. Sonoda starts off the sonata with a very proper sounding Allegro. The tempo is just right, the mien serious and purposeful, the tone appealing but not fulsome. The left hand remains steady, almost insistent, and the melodies flow naturally, and Sonoda knows when to throw in just a hint of tension – or a bit more than that, as in the second theme. The Andante contrasts rather starkly with the opening movement. Sonoda's overall tempo is slow, and his playing is very deliberate and stiff, but it is for effect, and it happens to work. The similarly slow middle section retains the purposeful stiffness, bit also, somehow, sounds just a bit mischievous. The Scherzo's outer sections sound crisp and the middle section more obviously mischievous than in the Andante. Sonoda plays the Rondo in such a fashion that the whole movement flows nicely, but individual moments and sections are a bit more deliberate or intense, and again he manages to infuse a bit of mischievousness into his otherwise serious approach. A most excellent Op 28, and one that can be compared to some heavy hitters. The two sets of variations are well done in the very serious vein, and Sonoda makes sure to thunder out some of the chords in the Eroica variations to superb effect. A fifth wholly satisfying disc in a row.

Next up, a blended disc, comprising early-ish and late-ish and late works. 27/1 starts, and Sonoda starts off with measured, serious playing in the Andante, and cranks up the speed and volume for the Allegro, though the playing is a bit cloudy here for some reason. The Allegro molto vivace, also slightly cloudy, has a relentless but rock-steady gallop thing going on in the left hand, and sounds positively middle period. The Adagio is formal and cool, and the Allegro vivace is, predictably and appropriately, like the prior faster sections in demeanor, and the ending is nicely beefy. The playing is good and all the pieces are there, but something is missing in this sonata. Good, yes; great, no. 27/2 follows. Sonoda goes slow in the Adagio sostenuto, and his steadiness in overall tempo is most impressive. The playing is somber and cold start to finish. The Allegretto is likewise slow, and a bit lumbering, with some near-crashing chords. The Presto agitato breaks the sameness (monotony doesn't really work to adequately describe the effect), with Sonoda playing at a fast but controlled pace, and with a satisfying dynamic range, including some crashing, nearly banging chords. It is a grinding, unyielding take on the movement, and caps a unique take on the work. Op 78 follows. Sonoda adopts basically perfect tempi both for the Adagio cantabile and the Allegro ma non troppo section that follows, and plays the latter with something akin to a perpetual motion style, and he takes advantage of the Yamaha's brighter tone in the melodies. Serious yet light-ish. The Allegro vivace is a bit lighter, though the upper registers still display a bit more bite than normal. Op 90 follows. Sonoda plays the opening slower than normal, going for dark drama in the slower material, and he plays the faster music with a severe, brittle mien, one possessed of more than a little bit of anger. It's heavy duty, that's for sure. Sonoda plays the second movement with greater lyricism, but his is not a particularly mellifluous sound. I have the feeling his Schubert would be of the grim variety. (I think I should find out.) He also does something uncharacteristic up to this point: he slows some passages way down, briefly stretching out the playing to emphasize literally each note, before returning to a standard but slow overall tempo. The effect is both a bit odd and effectively disconcerting. Op 101 ends the disc. Sonoda plays the opening movement in a slow tempo and immediately establishes a suitably transcendent sound, interrupted only by some odd spurious noise around forty seconds in. The march is clear, perfectly paced, displays a wide dynamic range and nicely hefty lower registers and potent sforzandi throughout. Nice. Sonoda then transitions flawlessly to an Op 106-style slow movement that is cold and desolate. The concluding Allegro again displays a perfect tempo, near- or actually-perfect late LvB sound, and if ever there was a pianist suited to play with "determination", it was Sonoda. Sonoda peaked with the late sonatas in his Denon cycle, so it is not surprising that the same thing appears to be the case here. A slightly less than wholly satisfying disc, starting only good but ending extremely strong.

The ever critical Op 31 sonatas followed. In 31/1, Sonoda opens the Allegro vivace just a bit slow and serious, but quickly switches to faster, more energetic playing, and if never adopting a playful demeanor in place of a more serious approach, he does lighten up, and he goes for that slightly unyielding approach again. The Adagio boasts some nice trills, and Sonoda lightens up even more. The left hand play is 'sloppy' in a precise and measured way. The melodies dominate in a most pleasing manner most of the time. The middle section is a bit laid back, and the return of the original theme finds the left hand playing tightened up and the right hand playing more free and easy. The final movement is quick, but not too fast, and has that unyielding thing going on most of the time, but Sonoda knows just when to back off, and at times it almost sounds as though he might be having fun, as in the rollicking coda. Sonoda plays the opening Largo of 31/2 a bit on the quick, light, and non-dramatic side, but that seems mostly so that he can get to the Allegro and play it fast-ish and with a comparatively narrow dynamic range, imparting a sense of urgency but not high drama. Sonoda keeps the Adagio on the light 'n' tight side, keeping in line with the opening movement, and the Allegretto is presented in fast and decidedly tense and aggressive fashion. The sonata is 'classical' in approach overall, but the finale is a corker. 31/3 opens with an Allegro of slightly measured tempo, and comparatively serious mien, but Sonoda manages to infuse a bit of wit when and where needed. The Scherzo is just a hint on the slow side, but Sonoda's rhythmic insistence and stability, and his pounding out of chords and underscoring left hand arpeggios when needed, keeps the movement chugging along just fine. The Menuetto is light and attractive and charming in spots, and the Presto con fuoco is quick, has beefy bass, and a relentless but entirely pleasant forward drive. Sonoda delivers an extremely strong Op 31. It's another wholly satisfying disc.

The next disc selected starts off with Op 53. Sonoda wins no speed contests for his opening of the Allegro con brio, but the tempo is appropriate, and the left hand playing growls a bit. The playing throughout the opening movement is formal and proper, extremely well executed, but a bit dull. The Introduzione is cool and aloof. Sonoda comes alive in the Rondo. He speeds up a bit, though he never rushes, but the dynamic contrasts are more pronounced, the sforzandi harder hitting, and the playing largely maintains an inevitable forward momentum. So, good, not great. Op 54 follows, and here Sonoda offers a nice degree of contrast between the two themes, though I guess the first thing could be a but more lyrical. The second movement benefits from Sonoda's ability to play with unyielding drive, though he keeps the tempo a bit on the safe side until the coda. Another good but not great performance. The rest of the disc is given over to the two op 51 Rondos, the Andante Favori, and the Op 119 Bagatelles. The Rondos are freer and lighter in approach than the preceding sonatas, and benefit nicely. The Andante Favori sounds a bit formal, but is lyrical enough to please. Surely, the highlight of this disc is Op 119. Sonoda's playing is definitely very serious, so some of the fun is drained from the pieces, but the flip-side is that the pieces are presented in the manner of late Beethoven sonatas, and have more heft. Not, perhaps, a challenger to the very best, but excellent. A good disc.

The next disc opens with Op 57. Sonoda plays the Allegro assai with a sensible enough tempo, and he ratchets up the intensity nicely, underpinning it with some heavy duty left hand playing. As he builds up the climaxes, he achieves near-St Annie levels of intensity. This comes at the expense of clarity, but here that is a tradeoff worth making, as the rockin', growlin' climax right before the coda demonstrates. The Andante is oddly but effectively clunky, with Sonoda playing some variations with unusual stiffness. It's unique, appealing in its own way, and it makes the movement more of an equal of the outer movements. The Allegro ma non troppo returns to the same style of the opener. It opens with crashing chords, moves to quiet and ominous playing, maintaining a high level of tension, with hard, bright right hand playing, right up until the first crescendo. Sonoda plays right through to the end with the same level of intensity. Already this year, Daniel-Ben Pienaar's joined the elite of the elite in this sonata. Now Sonoda joins him and them, though his take is nicely different. Next, Op 81/a. Sonoda goes for a big, or at least big-ish opening movement, a series of grand but heartfelt gestures. The second movement is solemn and the very deliberate and very clear right hand playing displays a desolate feel that seems just right, especially when contrasted with the ebullience and vitality of the last movement. Sonoda almost veers into virtuosic, showy playing, but stops just shy of that approach, and the result is just plain exciting. This can be compared to the very best versions out there. The disc wraps up with the Op 77 Fantasie, a work I seldom listen to, and when I do, it is invariably to Rudolf Serkin's version. Sonoda's playing is very serious and formal throughout, and once again he deploys the hefty bass of his Yamaha to good effect. It's a very fine version, though I doubt I start listening to the piece very much. Another wholly satisfying disc.

The penultimate disc starts off with 106. Sonoda opens with broad tempo (about 11'24" overall timing) and a large-scale approach. He keeps the movement moving forward with unyielding drive, and as the movement progresses, he seems to play with increasing intensity and an ever so slightly quicker tempo at times. The second movement is fairly conventional in approach, and effectively played. Right out of the gate, the Adagio is very slow, and starkly somber, almost a dirge. As the movement progresses, Sonoda alternates between this style – the first reappearance of slow music is starker yet – and a tense, searing style, accentuated by bright, sharp right hand playing. The just under twenty minute timing both flies by and manages at times to sound almost static. It's quite impressive. Sonoda opens the concluding movement with a Largo that acts as a perfect transition, and then he launches into the fugue. He plays it satisfyingly swiftly, with nice clarity and heft and more of that unwavering steadiness. It's a corker of a performance overall, which is hardly surprising given Sonoda's track record in the late sonatas. The disc closes with Op 22. Talk about a contrast. Sonoda plays the Allegro con brio at a just right pace, and the playing bounces along with a superb rhythmic has drive. The Adagio is just a bit on the quick side, and Sonoda basically plays straight through, not imparting any special drama or depth. The Menuetto and and Rondo both display playing similar in style to the opening movement, and the Rondo, in particular, has that whole rhythmic snap thing. Yet another wholly satisfying disc, anchored by a world class Hammerklavier.

The final disc has the last three sonatas. Sonoda peaked with the late sonatas in the Denon cycle, and 101 and 106 in this cycle both demonstrated that, if anything, he improved with age, so I approached the sonatas with very high hopes. Mr Sonoda fulfilled my hopes. 109 opens with a bright and quick first movement, and it forgoes late a LvB soundworld for a tenser, more assertive sound and feel. The Prestissimo just ratchets everything up a bit, but not too much. Sonoda doesn't really let up for the final movement, either, keeping things tenser and brusquer than normal. Rather than attain a transcendent feel, it sounds more like a great master offering a formal, strict interpretation stripped of all sentiment, though Sonoda ends the sonata is serene fashion. 110 is a bit less hard than 109, introducing some transcendent feeling into the playing in the opening movement, but Sonoda keeps it slightly aloof. The second movement is fast and intense, with not a whiff of sentiment. The final movement finds full-on transcendent playing during the Adagio, even though the tone remains somewhat hard. The fugue and inverted fugue are both clean, clear and very steady in tempo, and beefy in bass, and the transition from the fugue to the return of the Adagio has a masterly transition from clear, potent playing back to the transcendent style; it sounds a bit extended and emphasized, though it's really not. Op 111 starts with a dark Maestoso and moves into a strident, clangorous, aggressive Allegro, with Sonoda pounding away on his Yamaha to splendid effect. The Arietta is transcendent from the start, but the second half is almost magically serene. The first two variations carry on the same basic sound and feel, and then, wham, the third variation hits with surprising force. It's more pointed and fast than "boogie woogie" in nature, and it really grabs and holds one's attention. As the movement continues, Sonoda veers away from the transcendent feel toward cooler, stricter playing. The "little stars" are particularly strict sounding, but not in a negative way. Sonoda's steady playing results in even, measured chains of trills, and he plays the music leading up to the coda with a sense of urgency that is most compelling, and the coda is effective but doesn't offer Elysian views, but rather a formal and serious end. It's still most effective. Once again, Sonoda deliver some superb late lat LvB, though his Denon recordings may be a bit better. Or not.

I wanted a better than good cycle, and I got it. I wasn't surprised. Unless Sonoda's technique faltered, or his interpretive ideas changed drastically, I figured it was a safe bet that the playing and interpretations would be excellent. And that turned out to be the case. Indeed, if anything, the playing strikes me as more assured in this later cycle; the playing is incredibly solid playing from a sexagenarian. This is a serious, intense, basically classical take across the board. Flash, eccentricity, and excess are not to be heard. With only a few exceptions, Sonoda plays at an extraordinarily high level in every sonata, and those exceptions have more to do with my taste and expectations than his playing. Overall, this cycle surpasses the Denon cycle, and now stands as my favorite cycle from a Japanese pianist. Like Sonoda's earlier cycle, it lands in my second tier. This has been a really good year for Beethoven sonata cycles for me.

Sound is slightly distant, but admirably clear, with excellent dynamic range. The Yamaha grand sounds bright and clear, with hints of metal here and there. Bass is good but not too prominent.

 

[Todd A]

One of the cycles I thought might be gone forever has returned, albeit in the ungainly form of ten discs shoehorned into a fifty disc period music door-stop box. No matter, I had to have it, and given that the box is labeled a "limited edition", I figured I ought not dilly-dally and so I snapped it up. I've never heard a note played by Malcolm Binns, and given that this set never made it to CD in complete form, I've read next to nothing about this set, so I had no real expectations. The set is HIP, of course, and Binns uses a bevy of ancient instruments, which handicaps the set for me. Paul Badura-Skoda's awesome cycle and Penelope Crawford's awesome never-to-be-a-cycle recordings aside, I'm not wild about period LvB sonatas. (Add Andras Schiff's recent Schubert, and that more or less rounds out the period non-organ keyboard recordings I really like.) But who knew if this one could knock socks off?

Disc 1 is devoted to but two sonatas: Opp 2/1 and 2/2. Binns plays the first sonata at a comfortable pace. It's not too slow, it's not too fast. The first three movements all chug along nicely enough, with nice clarity and articulation, and a not unpleasant sound. Dynamic nuance doesn't match a modern grand, but that's to be expected. The final movement is more energetic, more vital, but the period instrument prevents Binns from imparting sufficient heft. My modern ears want more oomph. That written, it's good. 2/2 finds Binns doing more of the same. The opening movement, with repeat, tips the scales at 11'03", surpassing even Ikuyo Nakamichi's neverending opening movement. Binns never sounds sluggish, though. He plays with a bit of pep, though the movement goes on too long. The Largo starts off slow, slow, s l o w, and between the twang of the strings and the mechanism noise, it almost sounds as though Binns is playing on a broken piano. The effect isn't unpleasant, but the sound can't muster drama or feeling enough to overcome the period sound weakness. (Others, I know, would love it for exactly the reasons I complain.) I gotta say, though, that the Scherzo comes off really well. Light, fun, relaxed, it cruises right on by. The Rondo is quite similar, and the middle section has playing that approximates intensity. So, a good opening disc.

Disc 2 starts off with Op 2/3, and the Allegro con brio sounds too slow for my liking. Perhaps the keyboard mechanism prevents swift and fluid playing, but whatever the cause, the pace seems off, and some playing a bit clunky. But then Binns will ratchet up the speed and intensity in faster passages to a nice degree, but that just renders the movement qualitatively mixed. The Adagio is taken at a tense pace for a slow movement, and Binns' right hand playing is clean and effective, but the tolling bass notes are just too wimpy. The Scherzo is ever so slightly leisurely in the outer sections, but vibrant in the middle. Nice. The Allegro assai offers more of the same: slightly leisurely for the most part, Binns cranks it up a bit in faster sections. Op 7 concludes the discs, and it comes in at over 33 minutes, yet the opening Allegro molto e con brio is surprisingly spry and weighty. The Largo suffers from the same lack of low register heft that 2/3 did in its slow movement, and the mechanism noise becomes too much a part of the music. Some of the stop-on-a-dime chords sound really cool, though. The Allegro and Rondo both have more of the comfortable (if not leisurely) on the outside, driven on the inside thing going on. The Rondo really ratchets up intensity effectively. Another good disc.

Disc contains the Op 10 trio. Binns launches 10/1 with satisfying ascending arpeggios and maintains a generally peppy feel throughout. The bass sounds a bit undefined sometimes, but otherwise there are no issues. The Adagio molto is suitably slow, with some passages very carefully played with utmost clarity, and nice uses of the (I'm assuming) moderator pedal. Binns jumps to life in the vibrant, groovy Prestissimo, and if it lacks the digital wizardry of the showiest versions out there, it is good fun. 10/2 opens with a slightly leisurely Allegro, and jaunts along joyfully to the end, light but not slight. The Allegretto is a perfectly suitable, middle of the road take, and then, as with 10/1, Binns saves his best for last, ending with a vivacious, repeat filled Presto. 10/3 starts with a slightly leisurely, and at times quite deliberate sounding Presto. It's good, but it doesn't really flow, at least not ideally. The birds achirpin' add a bit a naturalistic fun to the proceedings. The Largo is pretty straight-forward, and doesn't generate much in the way of drama or intensity. Both the Menuetto and Rondo display the by now familiar leisurely in the outer sections, more vibrant in the middle section approach. Ultimately, more is needed for this sonata. Still, I'll call it a good disc.

Disc 4 opens with the Pathetique, and once again, when compared to a modern grand, the opening chords of the Grave lack power. One never gets a second chance to make a first impression, and all that. Binns then proceeds to play the Allegro is his customary style, and then goes back and forth. The Adagio cantabile, losing a bit of the cantabile due to the instrument, is pretty straight-forward. The Rondo sounds quite pleasant, with a bit of (near-) bite in a few places. Overall, the performance is decent, but is that enough here? Both Op 14 sonatas fare well from Binns' comparatively relaxed approach, and both are tuneful and light and enjoyable. Op 22 rounds out the disc, and here Binns comes alive. The Allegro con brio bristles with energy, has clean and steady left hand playing, and generally boogies. The Adagio moves along at a nice pace and doesn't delve deep, which isn't really needed here, and the movement serves as a perfect contrast for the opener. The Menuetto follows the standard Binns approach, but everything is tightened up and intensified, to very good effect. The Rondo wraps up the sonata in suitably vibrant and fun fashion, with a nicely stormy middle section, and some hefty chords and edgy-ish sforzandi. It's probably the strongest sonata, comparatively, of the set so far. A good, long (82'+) disc.

Disc 5 opens with Op 26, and here the limitations of the fortepiano used are evident in the comparative lack of tonal variety. Dynamics are fine, if limited, but a sense of sameness creeps into the variations. On the plus side, they are nicely done, if not comparable to the best (or second best or eighth best). The Scherzo comes off as satisfyingly vigorous; Binns does a good job of imparting a sense of seriousness, if not scale, to the funeral march; and the Rondo, though not of the blazing fast variety, is vigorous enough. 27/1 in contrast, benefits from a fortepiano here, with the softer sound pleasing the ear in the Andante, but offering enough heft and edge in the faster passages. The Allegro molto e vivace manages to sound vigorous and yet easy on the ears, though it could be faster and more precise. The quick decay of the fortepiano used adds a nice dimension to the Adagio. The concluding movement possesses nice energy, but again could benefit from more speed and cleaner playing, and the instrument sounds less than ideal in the loudest passages. Overall, a very nice recording of the first quasi una fantasia. The Adagio sostenuto of 27/2 also ends up benefiting from the decay of the fortepiano used, which while not producing a hazy sound, ends up producing what I will describe as a "shadowy" sound that works well. Binns belts out some striking, if perhaps slightly labored, sforzandi in the leisurely paced Allegretto. The Presto agitato is played fast, and the dynamic shelving, whether due to the moderator pedal or some other device, or some combination of machine and playing, sounds both intriguing and a little off-putting. (Is the instrument working properly?) Anyway, another nice recording. The long disc (82'+ again) ends with Op 28. The Allegro sounds like an Adagio to start, so perversely slow is the playing. It might be able to work with a modern grand and lots of sustain and rubato, but here it doesn't. Binns does pick up the pace just a bit as the movement progresses, and he plays the middle section in reasonably stormy fashion, but the movement never really works. The darker than normal mien is intriguing, though. The Andante, in contrast, is taken at an animated clip, probably closer to Allegretto, and it remains slightly tense throughout. The Scherzo is more conventional in approach, and the Rondo is suitably lyrical with a nicely energetic middle section. While this Pastorale is not really my cup of tea, it is definitely one filled with individual ideas. Others may very like it far more than me. All things considered, another good, or good-ish disc.

Disc 6 contains the critical Op 31 sonatas. 31/1 starts with a slightly slower than normal Allegro vivace, but the slower tempo is offset by really nice clarity and a few repeated instances of left hand chords assuming a more prominent, but not overwhelming, sound than normal. The Adagio grazioso, at just shy of thirteen minutes, is of the slow variety. It opens with a slow, plinking left hand supporting prominent trills and sluggish but pleasing melodies. Binns maintains the slow, slightly oafish playing throughout, and it is fun but also, ultimately, too low wattage. (And what is the deal right before and during the final return of the opening material – it sounds like a cricket got in the studio, or part of the mechanism needs some oil.) The Rondo ends the sonata in relaxed, tuneful fashion, with a lovely bird accompaniment right before the coda. 31/2 starts off with a slow, low energy, moderate drama Largo, and moves into a moderate energy Allegro, with often undernourished left hand playing. The Adagio is also slow and low(-ish) drama. Sometimes it's good, and sometimes it's kind of a snoozer. Things pick up with the Allegretto, which is more conventionally paced, and displays nice energy and dynamics. It's not enough to save the sonata as a whole, though. 31/3, fortunately, comes off better. The Allegro, while not especially fast, has enough energy and boogie and sense of fun to satisfy. The Scherzo keeps the good times going. Binns then plays the Menuetto in true grazioso fashion, blending the aural equivalent of wit, tenderness, and wistfulness in the outer sections, and a glumly playful feeling in the middle. Binns plays with real verve and drive in the Presto con fuoco. Everything sounds just right. This matches Op 22 as one of the peaks of the cycle. Overall, a decent disc, but an ungreat Op 31. That means this is an ungreat cycle.

Disc 7 opens with the Op 49 sonatas, and the Schiedmayer instrument from the 1770s/1780s represents everything I hate about HIP keyboards. It sounds somewhat like an out of tune clavichord-harpsichord hybrid prepared by John Cage and encased in a water-damaged, cheap wooden box. It just pissed me off to have to listen to it. The sonatas may or may not be well done. I turned down the volume and powered through. YMMV. Op 53 returns to the same instrument used for the Op 31 trio. The not so fast playing also returns. The opening movement sounds decent and has nice energy, but the big middle period (and late period) Beethoven sonatas benefit immensely from modern pianos, and the Waldstein ends up sounding too small and too, dare I say it, drawing room-ish, at least here. Everything is nice enough, the Introduzione, especially, sounding a bit plaintive, but I need more oomph. Op 54, by way of contrast, has more than enough oomph in the opening movement in the triplets theme. The movement contrasts quite nicely throughout, and the second movement is more vigorous than I would have anticipated. It's a really good performance. The long disc ends with Op 57. A relative lack of oomph again hampers the playing, though to Binns' credit, the outer movements are more intense than initially expected, and the Andante maintains tension nicely. The Dulcken instrument used is roughly contemporaneous with the awful pseudo-instrument used for Op 49, but I have no complaints here. The dreadful sounding Op 49 aside, a good disc.

Disc 8 opens with Op 78, and it fits the standard Binns style. Somewhat leisurely tempi mixed with nice dynamics and clarity and occasional moments of moderate intensity characterize the opening movement. The Allegro vivace is more vibrant and speedier, and downright playful about midway through, but nothing is pushed too hard. Nice enough. Op 79 offers more of the same in the opening and closing movements. The real draw here is the uncommonly beautiful Andante. Restrained and ruminative, and with some notes sounding almost cimbalomesque, the music takes on a transcendent late Beethoven feel. (Did Binns use the moderator pedal the whole time?) Op 81a displays all of Binns' traits. The most successful movement is the jubilant sounding conclusion, even with some belabored sounding passages. The instrument and style combine to make the sonata compact and more intimate than normal (IE, on a modern grand), which is intriguing, but ultimately not what I'm after. Op 90, played on a Muzio Clementi instrument, opens in surprisingly heavy, ponderous, but not intense or dynamically satisfying fashion. The faster music generates a bit more intensity, but the overall feel is dark and brooding. The second movement sounds nicely lyrical, though the shorter sustain on the instrument when compared to a modern grand is all too obvious. A very nice disc.

Disc 9 starts in on the late sonatas proper. Op 101 opens with a slow Allegretto ma non troppo, and while it has hints of late LvB transcendence, it falls short of what Binns achieves in Op 79 (!), and it also has a few overemphasized, stiff sounding notes. Still, not bad. The march opens with a slightly messy, congested bang of (necessarily) limited dynamic punch, and the march remains kind of wimpy, and the fast decay and small sound of the Erard just never makes the movement ignite for me. The Adagio, on the other hand, achieves near or actual sublimity as with the Op 79 Andante, with the 'plucky' sound of the instrument doing a fair amount to contribute to the feel. The final movement packs the punch lacking in the funeral march. The plucky sound does not really work in the fugue, though, and the playing, while solid, does not seem the last word in powerhouse control. Not a top forty choice for me. 106, played on a more satisfying sounding Haschka instrument, starts with a slow, almost twelve minute Allegro, but somehow Binns never sounds slow at all, nor heavy, nor lethargic. To be sure, it lacks the vastness of Gilels or the heroic athleticism of Korstick or Goodyear, and it lacks, say, Pollini's absolute command, but it sounds big enough, powerful enough, and energetic enough to make even some modern instrument fans happy, including this one. The Scherzo continues on in a similar manner. The Adagio, reasonably taut at around seventeen minutes, is most definitely of the tense, biting variety. Even when the playing usually becomes more desolate later in the movement, Binns never loosens up. Sweet. The Largo opens up the finale is just swell fashion, even if it might be a bit faster than it should be. (Not a complaint!) The fugue ends up showing off, perhaps even better than the opening movement, the appropriateness of the instrument for the piece, what with the comparatively beefy lower registers and clean, clear middle and upper registers. It sounds nearly modern. Binns plays with great energy and pretty darned good clarity throughout. The slow section lacks the last word in baroque-y, late LvB sound, but it's good. This is much better than 101, and if perhaps not up there with Rosen or Pienaar among recent(-ish) acquisitions, nor with established favorites, this is one of the highlights of the cycle. A mixed disc.

The final disc contains the final trio, and Op 109, played on a Broadwood, opens with a bracing Vivace ma non troppo and moves on to an even more bracing Prestissimo, and in both cases the combination of instrument and interpretation yields something more akin to middle period Beethoven, though of a not unpleasant variety. Binns saves late LvB goodness for the finale. He slows way down for the first variation, to good effect, and the third variation is nicely vigorous. A sense of middle period Beethoven reappears in the fifth variation and in the more intense passages of the final variation – it's all nicely played but lacks that something – and the theme restatement is nicely done. 110, played on a different Broadwood, starts off better yet. The first movement sounds both lyrical and slightly ethereal, with nicely weighty lower registers. The second movement lumbers a bit in the outer sections, but the middle section sounds nicely vibrant. The Adagio immediately reestablishes that late LvB sound, and the Arioso adds an element dark beauty. The fugue sounds foursquare and formal, though in a good way; the return of the Arioso tosses in what sounds to be hints of urgency, though nothing overwrought; the repeated chords increase in volume nicely; the inverted fugue sounds stylistically like the first; and Binns ratchets up the intensity and volume, delivering a potent coda. Very nice. Op 111, played on an 1835 Graf, opens with a Maestoso that benefits from what sounds like a darkly timbred instrument. The transition to the Allegro is a bit heavy-handed, but the slow Allegro benefits from the dark, weighty bass registers the instrument delivers. It does not benefit from the slow tempo, though, which robs the music of bite, drive, and intensity. The Arietta lacks the tonal beauty and sense of serenity that the best versions offer. The first two variations, nicely played, fail to establish much in the way of atmosphere of any kind. The boogie woogie variation sounds somewhat heavy and slow to start, and never fully recovers. The ''little stars'' end up benefiting from the soft sound the Graf can produce, and as the movement progresses, the playing begins to acquire a more satisfying sound. The trills, like the little stars, also benefit from the softer sound, and Binns creates a nicely blended sound on his way to finally arriving at a coda that approximates musical Elysium. It is a good overall performance, but not a top choice for me.

Overall assessment time. When compared to the two other HIP cycles I've heard, I find Binns to nestle somewhere between Paul Badura-Skoda's truly outstanding set and Ronald Brautigam's decidedly less outstanding set. Expanding the field a bit to the near ninety sets I’ve heard, Binns would fall somewhere in my third tier. His playing is never awful, rarely bad, and is usually quite good. This is, though, a low wattage cycle. Tempi throughout are on the slow side and the overall timing of the cycle is among the longest out there. Slow doesn’t mean good or bad by itself, but all too often I wanted more drive, more oomph, more excitement. I also wanted more precision and control. And I also wanted better sounding instruments some of the time. I guess I just wanted more. More devoted HIP fans may very well like the cycle far more than me. Same for non-HIP fans. I can say the the hit rate of the HIP cycles I’ve heard – one out of three ain’t particularly good – doesn’t really make me want to sample Malcolm Bilson and company’s set (six pianists playing a cycle is not really a cycle in my view) or hunt down and pay exorbitant prices for Hiroaki Ooi’s deleted cycle. Who knows, that could change.




Amazon UK link

 

[sls4321]

The Wigmore Hall has just announced an Igor Levit 8-concert cycle in the Winter 16/17 season. What's 8 x £30?. Presumably recordings will follow over the next 12 months.

 

[Todd A]

Among the more obscure Beethoven sonata cycles, Robert Benz’s has long been one that I was interested in hearing, yet I never felt compelled to seek it out on a regular basis. (The opposite is the case for Robert Riefling’s set, which I regularly search for online, for either a CD reissue or a complete LP set at an acceptable price/condition combination.) From my searches of German and Japanese CD huts, Benz does not appear to have recorded anything else, or at least nothing else that remains in print, and I cannot recall coming across any reviews that extoll the virtues of Benz’s playing and state that it rates with the best, or even second best. Still, when I found that Amazon Germany had the set, I decided to buy. The nine discs that comprise the set are the first I’ve bought in a long time that include the words ‘‘Produced in Western Germany‘‘ on some of the discs. Started in the late 80s, the cycle took until the mid-90s complete. The liner notes state that Mr Benz is (or was at the time) one of Germany’s leading pianists, though I find the claim perhaps a bit exaggerated. Whatever the case may be, once I found the set, I figured I might as well buy it and listen to it.

I decided to listen to volumes as presented rather than chronologically by work – too much CD swapping can be exhausting – so listening got underway with Op 31/2. The opening arpeggio sounds darkly clean. The pauses last just long enough. The Allegro is fast, has nice dynamic contrasts, and benefits from weighty but not ponderous bass. Benz highlights a few figures nicely. The rolling left hand playing at the end of the movement sounds very fine. The slightly quick Adagio sounds somewhat light and quite clear – no excess sustain pedal usage here – and very sensible. The closing Allegretto is taut and punchy, has some nice bass, and some pungent, but not too much so, right hand playing, and excellent rhythm. It's all very competently done. Op 53 follows, and Benz opens the Allegro con brio at a just about right tempo, plays with ample energy, and varies dynamics nicely. Rhythm is again excellent. Some of the playing veers toward harshness in the loudest passages, but never quite offends the ear. Benz plays the Introduzione at a sensible pace, plays with clean staccato, and expertly transitions to the Rondo. Benz again opts for a nice tempo and plays with a high energy level and wide dynamics, but some of the louder passages here do become a bit harsh, though this serves to add a bit of edge to the playing. Left and right hand playing remain incredibly easy to differentiate and follow separately, though. Op 110 rounds out the disc. Benz again adopts a sensible tempo in the opening movement, but the playing does not flow very well, sounding oddly stiff in a few passages. Benz belts out the Allegro molto to good effect. The Adagio is cleanly played, but sounds straight forward, and the Arioso, with the insistent accompaniment, offers little beauty or serenity. The fugue ends up sounding comparatively better, benefiting from Benz's clear style and penchant for potent bass. The return of the Arioso is pretty much like the first, and the repeated chords, played fast and aggressive here, build up nicely, but given the loud fortes and fortissimos in other playing elsewhere on the disc, sound a bit lacking. The inverted fugue benefits from Benz's style, but the coda is among the bluntest I've heard. The piece just stops. This does not rate among my favorite Op 110 recordings.

The second disc opens with 2/2. The opening Allegro vivace is quite good. Swift, well articulated, energetic, with nice rhythmic flair, it's light and chipper. The sound is a bit closer and drier than the first volume, and that may actually help. The Largo is a bit on the quick side, which is fine, and much of the right hand playing is light and pointed, which makes the contrast with the hammered out climaxes all the more stark. Both the Scherzo and Rondo display characteristics of the opening movement, and both come across as fun and snappy. A satisfying performance. 27/2 follows. The dry recording and the comparatively scant pedaling and clean articulation combine to create a clean but un-atmospheric, uninteresting, very Andante like Adagio sostenuto. The Allegretto is quick and punchy, and the Presto agitato is quick and agitated, but here the sound hampers scale and Benz doesn't deliver the same power he does in other places. Op 79 follows. The Presto alla tedesca is predictably quick and energetic and snappy, the Andante a bit on the quick side but still at least reasonably effective, and the Vivace basically reflects the same traits as the opening movement. Another decent/good performance. Op 109 closes the disc. The slightly drier sound allows Benz to play more quietly, more delicately, and in at least one place, to add a wonderful sounding accelerando. That written, the movement as a whole isn't a success. Something is missing. The Prestissimo comes across as too restrained and feeble due to the sound, though it seems as though Benz did play with a bit more oomph. Benz finally hits his stride in the last movement, which, aided by the recorded sound, comes across as intimate, and he achieves a transcendent, or something similar, sound. It's good stuff, but the sonata as a whole is not a notable success, and the disc as a whole is mixed.

Disc three opens with sonata three, and here Benz's penchant for swift tempi and snappy rhythm result in an energetic Allegro con brio. At times the music is pushed a bit too hard, but that's rare. What's not rare is the extremely dry sound which robs the playing of dynamics and scale, but imbues it with immense clarity. The Adagio also sounds dynamically constrained as a result, and it's about as expressionless a take as I can recall. The Scherzo, not surprisingly, is quick and pointed and energetic, as is the super quick and light Allegro assai. Op 13 follows, and here Benz plays with greater dynamic range, but the sound borders on overload in the loudest passages of the Grave, and Benz holds back in the Allegro, and at times the playing sounds thick. The Adagio cantabile lacks a nice cantabile sound and sounds closer to an (uneventful) Allegretto in terms of tempo. The Rondo is predictably swift and well articulated, but the louder passages end up sounding borderline ugly. 14/2 follows. Benz keeps things light in the Allegro, but plays the Andante at a strikingly fast pace and turns the theme into a comical march. The concluding Scherzo comes off better, with crisp, light playing. 27/1 closes the disc. Benz's speedy staccato playing works nicely most of the time, but again, in the loudest passages, the sound becomes a bit unattractive, and Benz hammers out the coda. It's moderately successful. A so-so disc.

Disc four starts off with 10/2, and Benz plays with in his customary style for the most part, but the improved sound shows off dynamics much better. Fortes are loud and a bit clangy, and Benz plays piano and pianissimo superbly. He also deploys some unique pauses in the Allegro to good effect, and plays the coda is slightly heavy fashion. The Allegretto is also pretty straight-forward except for the repeated use of longer than normal pauses, and a couple sustained chords. The Presto, which taken a conventional pace, comes across as heavier than normal and has some exaggerated louder playing. Still, not bad overall. 31/3 follows, and the sound is closer and less dynamic than for 10/2. The opening chords sound brisk and clipped, and the Allegro moves forward with nice momentum, though the playing sounds a bit studied. No quasi-improvisational outburst sounding playing here. Benz also deploys a few extended pauses again, and he introduces a nice touch by briefly emphasizing left hand figures in a few passages. The Scherzo bursts to life, and Benz plays the movement with well nigh perfect rhythm and a great sense of fun. Benz plays the outer sections of the Menuetto with steady rhythm and a lyrical but firm delivery, with a more pointed middle section. The Presto ends up sounding like a mashup of the first two movements, and works very well. This is the highlight of the cycle to this point, and comparatively much better than 31/2. Op 78 follows. The first movement sounds nice enough, but most of the action is in the second movement, which displays some heavy-handedness at times, but at other times has some fantastically variegated piano to pianissimo playing. I'm not sure the musical whole is especially satisfying, but some of the individual components sure are. The disc ends with 101. Benz opens the piece in light and slightly rushed – in a pleasant way – Allegretto. It's intimate sounding, except for a couple harsh-ish loud passages. The march is a brisk and crisp and potent. The Adagio has a nice, desolate, Op 106-y slow movement thing going on, and the Presto is, perhaps, just a bit too quick, and very definitely sounds determined. Benz's staccato lends very nice clarity to the playing, and the somewhat clangy passages come off well. This is definitely comparatively better than 109 or 110, but it sounds more middle period heroic than late period. Overall, a very good disc.

Disc 5 opens with 10/1. The ascending arpeggios in the Allegro molto e con brio are paced nicely enough, and the entire movement has nice energy, but just kind of sounds there, though with small hints of metal. The Adagio molto again sounds nice enough, with a few elongated pauses, and a nice degree of dynamic contrast. The playing comes alive in the Prestissimo, which is taken at a peppy tempo, displays excellent dynamic contrasts, and snazzy clarity. Decent overall. Op 26 follows. The theme is presented basically conventionally. As the variations proceed, Benz sounds more compelling in the faster, snappier music than the slow music, and he never really lets the movement slow down. The Scherzo is played at a pleasant Allegro pace and sounds conventional for the most part, with only some slightly weighty bass in some passages to differentiate it a bit. The funeral march never really achieves a large scale sound, but it does sound intense and a bit nervous, recalling (or predicting) Seymour Lipkin's style a bit. The sonata ends with a beefy, energetic Allegro. Good stuff. 81a opens with a slightly brisk and somewhat cool, or at least uninvolving, Adagio. The Andante fares a bit better, but only in the louder sections. The Vivacissimamente, unsurprisingly, fares best, with plenty of energy, and a few nice touches, including some light, playful right hand playing in a few passages that almost sound gleefully (scherzo-ly) delicate. Decent. The disc closes with Op 90. The opening movement is tense and biting when it should be, to excellent overall effect. This is no light, ethereal reading. The second movement, while not unattractive, doesn't sound lyrical enough. A decent performance from a decent disc.

Disc 6 opens with Op 7, and Benz takes the opening at a swift tempo, and he plays it light until the climaxes, when he cranks up the power. The close sound has what sounds like artificially enhanced bass, though it could just be a result of the recording technique. The loudest passages tend to sound a bit congested, too. The Largo is suitably slow, though part of that comes from tactical pauses. The playing becomes episodic as Benz alternates between slow, thoughtful quieter music, and loud, louder, loudest louder passages. Both types of playing often display stiff left hand playing. The Allegro is decent, but the growly bass sounds too indistinct. The Rondo sounds weighty in the outer sections, and the middle section has more indistinct bass married to slightly harsh right hand playing. Not bad, but not more than OK. The mighty 106 follows. Benz plays the Allegro in just over ten minutes. The playing never sounds strained, but at times it does sound congested. While there are exciting moments during the movement, it does not hold one's attention well. The Scherzo offers more of the same. Benz plays the Adagio fast, bringing the movement in at under sixteen minutes, yet it doesn't really have much of sense of urgency or intensity or depth. It just sounds fast. The final movement starts off with a slow Largo and moves into a fast Allegro risoluto, but rather like the opening movement, it just doesn't hold one's attention. An OK disc.

Disc 7 opens with 14/1. Benz plays each movement with enough character, and the overall feel is light, with crisp but not overbearing staccato, and a nice rhythmic drive. Op 22 follows. Benz's style works well in this work. The opening Allegro con brio has plenty of energy and forward drive, and is well articulated. The Adagio, here much more of an Allegretto, stays light and crisp. Benz ratchets up the intensity a bit in the Minuetto, but he doesn't push things too far, and he plays the Rondo with impressive drive, and plays with nice weight, though the bass sounds a bit indistinct in a fair number of passages. Very nice. A highlight of the set. Op 28 is next. Benz starts off playing relatively lyrical, plays the runs with fine dexterity and precision, and gradually builds up tension during the loudest passages, and his right hand playing takes on a not unappealing hardness. Benz plays the Andante quick in the outer sections, and in the middle section the playing becomes a bit hard in forte passages, but it stays just on the good side of banging. Benz plays the outer sections of the Scherzo with some bite that might, just might, cross to the bad side of banging, but then it also might just sound pleasingly hard. Whatever the case, the middle section ends up sounding lighter as a result. Benz returns to an at least somewhat lyrical style, but he also holds nothing back in the climax of the middle section, pounding out the music with no restraint but excellent control, and he plays the coda in a similarly potent manner. Good stuff. 49/1 closes the disc. Benz adds hints of edge to some of the playing, but otherwise treats the work as the light, charming piece it is. A very good disc.

Disc 8 opens with 10/3. The overall timing of under 21' promised fast playing, and sure enough, Benz comes flying out of the gate, with an almost breathless Presto. The playing sounds a bit congested at times in forte passages, but the movement is undoubtedly exciting. The very Andante-esque Largo is of the tense, terse variety right from the start, and Benz never lets up. He builds up intensity most effectively in loud passages and creates a sense of drama, though one reined in by iron fists. The Menuetto keeps the fast and potent playing going, as does the almost Pienaar-nutso fast (at least at times) Rondo. It would be hard to call the playing at all subtle, but it is easy to call it entertaining. Definitely one of the best recordings of the cycle. Fast and intense playing also (mis-) characterizes the opening movement of 49/2, but Benz softens up a bit in the second movement. Not bad. Op 54 follows. The first theme is more pointed than normal, and the second theme is, not surprisingly at this point, hammered out, though Benz keeps everything in perfect control. The second movement, also not surprisingly, is played fast, and the speed and intensity picks up as the piece progresses, as it should, and it works very well indeed. The disc closes with Op 57. By this point, I expected fast playing, plenty of potent sforzandi, and plenty of clean staccato. That's what Benz delivers in the Allegro assai. As recorded, Benz doesn't deliver the most massive scale or weight of versions I've heard. Rather, his take comes across as more of a middle-weight reading, somewhat like Seymour Lipkin, but with better control, and not as gruff. (That gruffness makes Lipkin's performance better.) The Andante cools things off nicely and sounds comparatively lyrical, and serves as a nice rest of sorts before the Allegro ma non troppo, which starts in tense but not unleashed fashion, and only slowly builds up tension until around a minute twenty, where Benz ratchets up intensity, though even then he doesn't let loose. Rather, he keeps things taut and tense throughout, only really releasing tension in the build to and finally in the coda. It's not the best performance, but it is an excellent one. Easily the best disc of the cycle.

The final disc opens with the first sonata. Benz plays the Allegro in his customary manner, and here that works just splendidly. The right hand sforzandi sound plenty zesty. Benz goes for the fast, tense slow movement approach in the Adagio, and here it succeeds. The Menuetto sounds conventional, though here that is no criticism, and the Prestissimo is fast and almost furious and reasonably clear, with some tangy right hand playing. Nice. Next up, Op 31/1. Benz plays the opening Allegro with plenty of energy, but it also sounds relentless and almost rigid. The Adagio is most notable for its extreme speed, which, it must be said, lends a comic sound to the music. The middle section is faster yet, with nervous energy in the repeated left hand chords. The effect rather grates after a short while. The Rondo again possesses nice energy, but there's a relentlessness to the playing that just doesn't click for me. That means only one really excellent Op 31 sonata, which means this cannot be a great cycle. The cycle ends with Op 111. Benz starts off with a bright, intense, potent Maestoso, growls during the transition to the Allegro, which is weighty, pointed, and fast-ish. A satisfying, middle period sounding opener. The Arietta starts off comparatively calm and lovely, and cools down in the second half, until Benz decides to hammer out the end in transition to the first variation, which reverts to the calmer style of most of the Arietta. Benz plays the second variation more intensely than many others, which leads to a quick, hard boogie woogie variation. The little stars sound downright unpleasant. No mystery. No beauty. No atmosphere. The chains of trills fare a bit better, but end up sounding like part of a study rather than late Beethoven, and the coda sounds flat, not Elysian, not really anything else. Not a favorite. The disc is 1/3rd good.

That sort of sums up the cycle. There are definitely some very good sonatas, but most are really nothing special. Some are unpleasant. Some are ho-hum. In other words, it’s an uneven cycle. Even the sound quality is uneven. Benz’s style kept calling to mind Alexis Weissenberg or, in the context of Beethoven sonatas, Seymour Lipkin. But where Weissenberg can manhandle music in a way that can sound awesome, Benz, in this cycle, generally does not. He just manhandles the music. Benz also can sound gruff or close to it, but he doesn’t turn that to his advantage like Lipkin, who can and does make a virtue of that style. Overall, this cycle is not a favorite of mine, and I would probably place it in my fourth tier, or third if I am feeling generous. That written, as usual, I was ultimately glad to hear it.



Amazon UK link for volume 1. All volumes appear to be available at the present time.

 

[Todd A]

Another set arrives out of the blue. In January of last year, I found out that Younwha Lee, a pianist I had hitherto never even heard of, had recorded a complete LvB cycle. I promptly bought, listened to, and enjoyed the cycle quite a bit. The same thing happened in January 2014, when Yaeko Yamane's cycle appeared out of nowhere. This year it was Steven Herbert Smith's turn. Like Ms Lee and Ms Yamane, Mr Smith is a name entirely new to me. He's a professor at the Penn State School of Music, and has done his fair share of performing and recording and, one presumes, research. This cycle is of the super-mega-complete variety, with the Diabellis, Op 126, Opp 34 and 35, and a gaggle of small WoO works thrown in. The set even includes two copies of the cycle: one on regular CDs and one MP3 set delivered on a bonus DVD, which also includes twenty four text pages of program notes, all bundled together in a convenient if not quite luxury multi-DVD box apparently produced by Mr Smith himself. The big question: would I enjoy this cycle quite a bit?

Starting with disc one, I endeavored to find out. The cycle opens with piano sonata number one, which is a good place to start. Smith proceeds to play the sonata in a straight-forward fashion. No extremes of tempo, no willful dynamics. It's just good, clean Beethoven. I could have used more intensity and the repeat in the Prestissimo, but the set gets off to a solid start. Op 10/2 follows, and things go from good to better. The Allegro and Allegretto are both on the slightly swift and tense side, and the repeatless Presto sounds both serious and fun(-ish). The recital then moves on to two sets of opusless variations, WoO 70 and WoO 71. These may very well be new pieces for me, and at the very least (or rather, most), I've listened to each maybe once or twice before. I'd have to peruse my entire collection to know for sure. In any event, both works are enjoyable and largely light. The disc closes with Op 7. Smith plays the Allegro with notable forward drive, pecking out the dotted rhythms handily, and adding some oomph where and as needed. The Largo, taken at a slow tempo, and possessed of some terse chord endings, maintains a nice degree of tension, and the Allegro flows along nicely, with solid rhythm and snazzy sounding rumbling left hand playing. It closes with an energetic, rollicking Rondo. A very good opening disc.

Disc two starts off with 2/2. Smith plays the repeatless Allegro vivace straight. Quick and vibrant, it gives off the good time vibe. A few of the more challenging passages display some slightly slower, more labored playing. Smith plays the Largo at more an Adagio pace, or quicker, but gets the right feel, and the left hand playing is pointed and satisfying. The Scherzo is jaunty fun, and the Rondo alternates between energetic fun and moderately touching, moderately lyrical playing. 10/1 follows. Smith plays the ascending arpeggios in restrained fashion, and the movement seems a bit shier of brio than anticipated given some of the prior sonatas. That's not to say it's bad, just less vivacious than other performances. The Adagio molto, here more of an Andante, is quick-ish and generally quite vibrant. No Deep Music here. I mean that in the best possible way. The Prestissimo is reasonably quick and vivacious and entertaining. It seems a pattern emerges with this disc: Slow movements are quicker than normal, or at least sometimes expected (which can be good), and faster movements are a bit slower than normal, or at least usually expected (which can be good or not so good). Just an observation. Six Easy Variations WoO 77 follow, and its a nice if not especially memorable or essential work. The disc ends with 2/3. Smith takes the opening Allegro at a satisfying pace, but some of the playing lacks the last word in secure sound, and some transitions display hints of strain and stiffness. (Of course, this is live, so it's also real.) The Adagio is generally taut, and the tolling left hand notes sound somewhat hefty – they definitely lack ultimate heft; they stick out for not really sticking out. The Scherzo is fairly conventional, though in the middle section, Smith's left hand playing becomes unusually prominent for a portion of the music, adding some more heft. Smith plays the concluding Allegro assai with fine drive and rhythmic flair. A couple strained passages belie the liveness of it all, and the somewhat limited dynamic range begins to become something of a limitation. Still, all things considered, a very good disc.

Disc three opens with the Op 49 sonatas. Both are played nicely and lightly enough, though both also sound a bit flat and display very little dynamic variation, or at least less than I normally hear. The two Op 51 Rondos follow. A bit more dynamic range is thrown in, and both sound suitably light. The heavy duty stuff starts with the next work, Op 10/3. The Presto sounds plodding and unsecure, and while there is dynamic variation, it is contained. The playing also sounds congested, with the voices sometimes blurring together when they should sound distinct. The Largo is a bit tense and ever so slightly swift, and while Smith ratcheted up intensity at times, the movement sounds small-scaled and never really offers enough drama to satisfy, and the usually fast playing in the latter part of the movement is slow-ish and blurred. The Menuetto doesn't really offer a reprieve since one isn't needed and sounds pleasant but bland. The work closes with a more satisfying Rondo, at least in the more secure outer sections, while the middle sounds a bit strained. The disc closes with Op 13. The Grave is swift and dynamically compressed, but tense, as is the Allegro. When the Grave returns, the playing is a bit on the anemic side. The Adagio is a bit on the quick side, but sounds appealing, and the Rondo, despite some stiff passages here and there, generally sounds energetic enough. That written, nothing on this disc strikes me as world matching, let alone world beating.

Disc four opens with the Op 14 sonatas. 14/1 is conventional throughout. Just about right tempi, nothing exaggerated, just a bit of personal rubato, and some oddly stiff playing before the Allegro commodo coda. Maybe it verges on sounding just a bit too serious, though that's not serious enough to be a quibble. 14/2 gets much the same treatment, though here the seriousness of purpose is closer to being an issue. Surely a lighter touch is needed here. Still, it's not bad. Op 26 follows. Smith's serious style works better in Op 26. The Andante and variations opener is nicely paced and the variations nicely varied, and the Scherzo is swift-ish and potent. The funeral march is deadly serious and taut and played, or recorded, with a constrained dynamic range, which creates a sense of urgency, as opposed to drama, throughout. The concluding Allegro has a somewhat indistinct, growling bass underpinning a generally sharp, bright-ish right hand which closes the work on solid footing. Op 22 closes the disc. Smith opens with a solid Allegro con brio. It's got plenty of energy and weight, though the rhythmic sense is a little uninvolving and flat. The Adagio is on the swift side and is cutting and clear, but it doesn't really engage the listener. The outer sections of the Minuetto are pleasant enough, but the middle section is a bit slow and sounds as though the pianist is pushing his limits. A decent disc.

Disc five starts what is called Volume II, The Romantic and Heroic Beethoven. It contains the two Op 27 sonatas along with the Op 34 and 35 Variations. In 27/1, Smith plays opening Andante and return pretty straight, with little in the way of personal touches, and the Allegro is nearly aggressive in tone and attack. The Allegro molto e vivace is a bit slow and heavy sounding, and the Adagio, paced just a hair on the swift side, while not unattractive, is a bit stern. Smith again comes alive a bit more in the Allegro, though the rhythmic pulse, as with Op 22, stays a bit unengaging and flat, and some playing is a bit rough around the edges. (And I don't mean endearingly gruff, à la Seymour Lipkin.) Overall, a decent performance. 27/2 opens with a slightly swift and decently brooding Adagio sostenuto. The Allegretto is nicely paced and conventional. The Presto agitato starts off with plenty of energy and weight, and the bass line is vigorous, but some right hand chords sound undernourished. Overall, a pretty good Moonlight. The two sets of variations are well done. I'm not big on either set, really, so I'm sure someone else could offer more pluses and minuses. A good enough disc.

Disc six contains the Op 31 sonatas. My kind of disc. Smith plays the Allegro vivace of 31/1 in a straight-forward, no-nonsense kid of way. Just a bit quick most of the time, with nice dynamics contrasts and no attempts at frilly refinement, the music shines through, though I could have used a bit more command in the playing. The Adagio grazioso – plagued by some sub-par sound that is either due to the piano going out of tune or something wonky with the recording gear in some places – is pretty generic. Nicely paced, sort of serious-lite, with nice trills, it works okay. The Rondo is high energy and displays sometimes prominent and hefty left hand playing. 31/2 offers more of the same. A not especially slow, not especially brooding Largo gives way quickly to an assertive, pointed Allegro with a bit of bite. Nice. The brisk Adagio displays tension and a jittery, nervous quality in some of the accompaniment. It's appealing, but something is lacking. Nothing is lacking in the fast, pointed Allegretto. Smith saves his best for last. 31/3 is interpretively limited, but when that interpretation focuses on fast, energetic playing, with hands scampering across the keyboard, well-judged chord outbursts in the Scherzo, wit, humor, and more energy, except in a just reserved enough (that is, not too much) Menuetto, that's pretty much all one needs. A very strong end to a good disc.

Disc seven opens with Op 28. Smith plays the Allegro at a sensible pace, with a nice enough rhythmic sense, reasonable clarity, and only a few slightly stiff phrases here and there. Much the same can be written about the Andante and the Scherzo. The Rondo is a bit tenser and quicker and makes for a nice ending. Throughout, there's some low-level mechanical noise, like perhaps HVAC. It doesn't detract, but it is noticeable. Op 54 follows, and the opening movement has very nicely contrasted sections. The triplets section is a bit on the gruff side, but that's hardly a bad thing. The Allegretto is played quickly, with a few slightly stiff transitions and rough patches, but overall it is nice, high-energy closer. Smith plays both movements of Op 78 in a non-nonsense, straight-ahead manner, and while it's nice, it doesn't really linger in one's memory. Op 53 rounds out the disc. Smith plays the opening Allegro in energetic, suitably fast fashion, with more notable dynamic range than most prior recordings. The Introduzione is steady and perhaps a bit cool, and transitions to a fast, energetic, at times powerful Rondo. If perhaps the quieter playing isn't particularly quiet and the louder playing can sound a bit gruff, it nonetheless works exceedingly well and is one of the best performances of the cycle. A good disc.

Disc eight opens with Op 79, and Smith once again opts for a swift, no-nonsense approach, playing right through the Presto alla tedesca with maybe one pause for breath. The Andante is a bit on the brisk side, but sounds attractive, and the Vivace is quick and energetic. Op 81a follows. Smith opens the first movement slightly slow, but without much feeling, and he wastes no time moving into the faster playing, displaying nice independence of hands while so doing. But the playing is straight-forward to a fault. The second movement is more restrained, but lacks much in the way of emotion, or, if one doesn't like that type of approach – thinking music cannot convey emotion – it lacks much in the way of variety of touch, dynamics, and rubato. The final movement is energetic and quick, but kind of flat. The disc then moves on to three sets of variations – WoO 79, 78, and 80. All are ably performed, but how much can one really get into ''Rule Britannia'' and ''My Country, 'Tis of Thee'', er, ''God Save the King'' variations? Next is Op 57. Smith's style works well here. The sonata maintains a high degree of tension throughout, and the opening and closing Allegros are high-intensity affairs. The comparatively limited dynamics, which appear attributable to the sub-par sound, limits impact a bit, but not enough to hamper the proceedings. The disc closes with Für Elise, which sounds like Für Elise. A good disc.

Disc nine moves into late LvB, and opens with Op 90. Smith plays the opening movement a bit on the slow side, but he still imparts some bite to the loud chords, and the left hand playing during the faster passages sounds nicely constant. Greater dynamic contrasts would have been nice, but again, that is probably the recording and not the playing. The second movement flows along reasonably well, but the melody is not presented as attractively as in many other versions. Op 101 follows. The opening movement sounds curiously small in scale, but manages to evoke a decent sense of transcendence. The march sounds forceful and a bit bass heavy, and some of the left hand playing borders on the lumbering at times. The Adagio moves back to a semblance of transcendence, and sounds quite nice. The Allegro, which again sounds a bit small in scale, offers only moderate clarity. When either the left hand or right hand playing is to the fore, the playing is clear, but when both are played equally, the result is muddy, with some of the left hand playing especially indistinct. There are some nice things here, but it isn’t one of the greats. Op 109 follows. The Vivace gets off to a slightly halting start, and while not unattractive, it's also a bit plain. The Prestissimo is a bit tepid and unclear and lacks dynamics. The final movement also suffers from lack of dynamics, and the playing, while comparatively better than the last movement of 101, doesn't evoke much feeling or even superficial beauty. The coda comes close to achieving the late LvB soundworld, or at least one I prefer, but overall something is missing. Op 110 opens with nicely played but more middle period sounding Moderato cantabile molto espressivo, then moves into a forceful Allegro molto. Smith then does a slightly better job of establishing a late LvB sound in the final movement. The ariosos both sound a bit cool and detached, like miniature versions of the 106 slow movement. The fugue is well done. The repeated chords that build up to the inverted fugue sound a bit rushed and dynamically limited, but they still sound reasonably effective. The inverted fugue itself, with a few halting passages, is terse and swift, and a bit more middle period in nature. A decent disc, but much more than decent is needed here.

Disc ten starts off with Op 106. Smith plays the opening movement at a relatively fast 10'33'', and his playing is filled with energy, drive, and intensity. In contrast to Yu Kosuge, who plays with a similar overall timing, Smith never slows down and plays anything with much in the way of subtlety. This is more a hearty performance, which is reinforced in the the Scherzo. The brisk Adagio, coming in at not much over sixteen minutes, sounds intense, biting, nervous and almost angry. The Largo is comparatively swift, and if the fugue isn't the last word in clarity, it is of the high energy variety. The disc closes with the Op 126 Bagatelles. The playing is generally solid, but it is comparatively direct and colorless and humorless. Nothing on the disc is close to bad, but nothing really stands out either.

The cycle ends with the big time paring of Opp 111 and 120. Smith plays the Maestoso quickly, almost relentlessly, and rushes some chords, to good effect, and hammers out some passages more intensely than often occurs. The transition to the Allegro sounds like a low growl in the bass, and then the Allegro sounds sharp, cutting, and intense. The Arietta is quick and neither profound nor beautiful, and then the first two variations are not exactly transcendent or beautiful. The boogie woogie variation is quick and energetic but displays a somewhat flat rhythm. The ''little stars'' sound a bit rushed and have no mystery or beauty. The trills are crisp and bright, but not especially attractive, and they seem to have one volume throughout. The overall tempo for the movement is fast and at times the playing sounds rushed. The coda sounds rushed and flat. This is not a 111 for the ages. The set ends with the Diabellis. Smith plays the theme fast to the point of sounding rushed. The first variation sounds potent enough, but the second variation sounds too gruff by half. This sort of sets the pattern for the rest of the work. The more intense music comes off best, but a lot sounds too rushed, nuance is pretty much AWOL, and some of the playing sounds strained. Due to the fast overall tempo and some repeats being stripped, this performance comes in at just under forty-two minutes, the second shortest I recall hearing after Géza Anda's much better recording. This is not a Diabelli for the ages. A disappointing final disc.

To answer my own question: I did not enjoy this set quite a bit. To be sure, there are some excellent performances in the mix. Op 31 is a highlight, and that’s always a good thing. Some of the earlier sonatas fare well, but most of the later sonatas, and especially the late sonatas, just don’t do it for me. There is never any doubt about Mr Smith’s seriousness of purpose or devotion to the music, and this set is pretty much a straight-forward, nothing but the notes type of set. But when one considers the regular lack of repeats, the poor sound for something recorded so recently (between 2009 and 2011), which especially impacts dynamic range, and some passages that definitely sound live, it is hard to conclude that this rates among the great or even very good cycles. There’s a whole lot to choose from out there, and whether considering older, well-known cycles, or newer, lesser-known cycles, I just can’t report that this is competitive.

 

[Todd A]

The Japanese always angle for my dollars. Literally all the time, fascinating recordings of core rep get issued in Japan only, forcing me to to exert effort surfing the web and compelling me to buy high-priced discs. A bevy of pianists have recorded the New Testament for the island nation with nary a hope of widespread distribution. Mostly, the pianists are Japanese – no surprise there – though some (potentially) neglected European pianists have also recorded sets designed for consumption in the Japanese market - Peter Rösel and Irina Mejoueva come to mind. With the global race to the bottom in currency markets still underway, most Japanese recordings are much more affordable now, and since I must hear pretty much any new Elveebee sonata cycle, when Yu Kosuge’s cycle was completed early this year, I just went ahead and pre-ordered the last set and the four already released sets.

Ms Kosuge is not new to me. A few years ago, I spied the first two volumes of her then progressing cycle at HMV Japan, and I decided I should try something before hearing her in Beethoven. I settled on her recording of Liszt’s Études d'exécution transcendante. While not the best version I’ve heard – at the time, that would have been Vladimir Ovchinnikov’s, and now, that would be Bertrand Chamayou’s – Ms Kosuge displays chops aplenty and keen musical sense. Ms Kosuge is young-ish, having been born in 1983, and she’s won awards, studied abroad, counts Sir András Schiff among her mentors, performs with notable ensembles and artists around the world, and records for Sony Japan. (A bit redundant, I know.) Her cycle is presented in five two-disc sets, each titled auf Deutsch: Aufbruch, Liebe, Leben, Transzendenz, and Botschaft. The liner notes, however, are all Japanese, indicating this set will most likely not see worldwide distribution, at least in its current incarnation. So, how is it?

Disc one contains the first three sonatas. 2/1 starts with a vigorous, taut Allegro, then moves to a slow, beautiful, tender Adagio. Is tender proper? Don't know, but it works well enough, though I could have done without the heavy breathing. Others may find it too precious by half, or otherwise irksome. The Menuetto continues on in a similar vein, with some nice dynamics thrown in, and the repeatless Prestissimo, taken at a just quick enough clip, with more tender playing in the middle section, ends the sonata in suitably intense fashion. 2/2 opens with a repeatless Allegro vivace. At times, the playing seems a bit low energy, but at other times it sounds plenty energetic. Kosuge plays with extremely fine dynamic gradation, especially at the quieter end of the spectrum, but her clarity in the fastest passages is sometimes a bit lacking. Of special interest is her subtle rubato, often combined with diminuendo playing. The Largo is slow and generally quite lovely, but it doesn't sound very ''appassionato'' much of the time. The Scherzo also lacks a bit of energy much of the time, though Kosuge belts out some passages. The Rondo has a stormy middle section and fun, lively, definitely grazioso outer sections. 2/3 follows the now established pattern: the opening movement, the Scherzo, and the Allegro assai are all at least a little on the lower energy than normal side, though all have at least moments of great drive, and the Adagio is slow, lovely, and at times delicate, tender, searching, or whichever adjective one might prefer. So the set starts off well, but with some reservations.

Disc two gets right into the good stuff: Op 31. 31/1 opens with an Allegro vivace of essentially perfect tempo, and the main attraction here ends up being Kosuge's dynamics, vary from very quiet to satisfyingly loud. There's enough rhythmic snap and fun to make the movement work. Kosuge then plays the Adagio grazioso very slowly, with a nice mix of beauty and purposely clunky, humorous playing in the outer sections, and a bit more energy in the middle section, and she ends with some extended, quiet chords, letting them fade away to silence. The slightly slow Rondo has enough energy to satisfy, and Kosuge emphasizes the right hand playing a lot, but the left hand playing is very clean and insistent and almost ''sneaky'' or sly sounding in parts. It's extremely effective. Great stuff, comparable to the best available. The opening movement of 31/2 ends up benefiting from Kosuge's style, too. In the opening movement, the slow, quiet music is very quiet and very drawn out, creating a nice, brooding atmosphere, and the faster music benefits from wide dynamics, even if it is not the last word in intensity. The Adagio offers a lot more of the drawn out, atmospheric style, and the occasionally slow-ish Allegretto offer a wide dynamic range, at times nicely intense, biting sound. 31/3 opens with an excellent Allegro. Well paced, fun, dynamic, it's just right. The Scherzo is just a bit on the broad side, and Kosuge likes to end some phrases with long sustains that sap a bit of energy, but it's still nice. The Menuetto is lovely, tending toward tenderness much of the time, and works well. The Presto con fuoco sounds a bit lumbering and heavy for a good portion of its duration, almost ruining the first three movements. Still, it's a good sonata, and a strong showing overall for the critical 31, capped by a world-class 31/1.

The second volume, called Liebe for some reason, opens with the Op 14 sonatas. Kosuge fares very well here. 14/1 is light fun in the opening movement, with some nimble fingerwork and a leisurely feel. The Allegretto is a bit restrained even in the faster sections, and downright Largo-y in the slower passages, with Kosuge seeming to want to let notes and chords fade to silence before proceeding. The Rondo offers some more nimble playing and superb dynamics. 14/2 is likewise a bit on the leisurely side in the outer sections, with the middle section dashed off with more than a hint of virtuosity and some willful and fun left hand hand playing and fluid right hand runs. The Andante starts off with a crisp, jaunty march theme, and the variations follow suit appropriately. The Scherzo combines jauntiness and at first judicious and then perhaps excessive use of small pauses, but overall, it sounds swell, especially with the both subdued and obvious left hand playing in the coda. Op 78 follows. More of the same follows, with slightly leisurely, nuanced playing throughout the opening movement. The Allegro vivace has some hefty loud playing and dynamically shaded playing. (Kosuge's dynamic range, and variability and nuance in that range is quite impressive.) A really solid performance. The disc ends with Op 90. Here Kosuge opts to start off playing the first movement in purposely super-sluggish fashion, underlining every note and distending some arpeggios to almost Pogorelich-playing-Brahms dimensions. It's unique, sure, but not terribly effective. But for pitch, the effect is rather like listening to a 45 rpm single played at 33 rpm. Likewise, the second movement is excessively slow, and it doesn't even flow. There is some lovely playing in places, but next to no energy. Definitely one on the unique/odd end of the interpretive spectrum. A mixed disc.

Disc four opens with 27/1. Kosuge plays with notable beauty and a pleasing softness of touch, and plays some arpeggios with a nice, unique touch in the Andante. The Allegro is suitably swift and very cleanly articulated, and the return to the opening movement sounds just as lovely the second time around, with a very delicate coda. After a pause, the Allegro molto e vivace is approached similar to the first Allegro, and Kosuge deftly alternates her focus between left and right hand playing. The Adagio con espressione is taken very slowly and deliberately, with the left hand playing achieving a hypnotic effect, and the trills just before the transition to concluding Allegro vivace are just wonderful. Kosuge then plays the final movement with rhythmic flair and verve, except when she plays the slow music beautifully. A superb performance and recording. 27/2 follows. Kosuge plays the Adagio sostenuto in slow, somber, almost dirge-like fashion, and she plays at a mesmerizing, steady pace throughout. The Allegretto, with its leisurely pace, lovely right hand playing, and lilting accompaniment, comes across as sort of dance movement. The Presto agitato is generally fast, has satisfying low end heft, benefits from Kosuge's wide dynamic range, and fits perfectly with her overall conception, including her use of long pauses and sustains. Another superb performance and recording. The disc closes with Op 101 (again, why Liebe?), and Kosuge opens the first movement slower than slow. Each note is very deliberately played. Not bad for a Largo; not so good for an Allegretto, or at least not usually. While I can't say that this cracks the top ten performances, Kosuge's focus and steadiness pay off. The Vivace alla marcia is likewise slow, and displays a slightly 'off' rhythmic pulse, but strangely enough, it works. The Adagio is slower than normal – I'd call it a Largo – though here that doesn't quite matter as much, and it is here that the first hints of transcendental Beethoven appear. The final movement finds Kosuge playing the fugue quite well and with admirable clarity, but it seems every chance she gets she relishes playing some music slower and softer than normal. Again, this is a very individual take, and while it's not a favorite, it is intriguing and compelling. An excellent disc.

Volume three, Leben, opens with Op 28. Kosuge plays the Allegro at a leisurely pace, and, despite a lack of rhythmic verve, she keeps the music flowing along beautifully, and the loud passages, with even more noticeable than normal breathing betraying the effort, plays the loudest passage without sounding too hard. A few diminuendos have volume fall off geometrically, to good effect. The very Adagio-like Andante finds Kosuge playing the melody in slightly exaggerated, distended fashion in the outer sections, while the inner section sounds a wee bit scampish. The effect is somewhat like Celibidache translated to solo Beethoven. Make of that what you will. The Scherzo is more conventional in the outer sections, and the trio, while conventional in overall style and approach, seems to have each and every note cleanly delineated, and Kosuge's left hand articulation is really something. The Rondo is, for Kosuge, a bit on the swift side, and alternates nicely between lyrical playing, and fiercer, more rambunctious playing, and the coda is dashed off with a big dollop of showwomanship. Op 79 follows. The Presto alla tedesca is swift-ish and energetic fun, with every detail again on display. The Andante is lyrical and detailed, and the Vivace is fun and hyper-detailed. It is fair to say that Kosuge's playing highlights certain figurations in a way I've not heard before. The fifth disc closes with Op 53. Kosuge starts off the Allegro con brio all soft and feathery, cranks up the volume a bit, then returns to soft and feathery and proceeds to play with impressive virtuosity. Who says one must play loud when playing quick and nimble? Kosuge displays her broad dynamic range again throughout the movement as appropriate, but she keeps this quieter than normal (presumably using the una corda pedal very liberally) for much of the movement. Partly due to the almost oppressively close microphones, the loudest left hand passages sound congested and almost like they are poised for overload, though that never happens. A unique opener. Kosuge plays the Introduzione slow, and again plays more quietly, more delicately than the norm, to good effect. The Rondo starts off with the gentlest pianissimo, with a fair amount of sustain, and gradually builds up until at about a minute in, when Kosuge plays with more heft and bite, though even then she holds back in all but some passages. Her left hand playing, while not prominent, sounds steady and clear – how does she make it the focus of the playing without making it the focus of the playing? Neat trick. As in the opening movement, Kosuge revels in the quieter playing, using her outsize dynamics to excellent effect when she does play more loudly. She dispatches the fastest music with seeming ease. There's much to admire and enjoy in this recording. It's more about the trees than the the forest – and really, it's more about the bark patterns and burls than even the trees sometimes – but what beautiful trees! Unique and enthralling. A superb disc.

Disc six opens with the Op 49 sonatas. Except for a wider than normal dynamic range and detail enhanced by the recording technique, Kosuge plays both of them pretty straight, the doozy of an embellishment on the 49/1 Rondo and some minor embellishments in the Menuetto of 49/2 aside. Both sound swell. Op 7 follows. Kosuge plays the Allegro molto e con brio at an appropriate tempo, but it is all so controlled that it would sound contrived if it didn't sound so great. Her delicate right hand dynamics on the quiet end, her large scale and heft in heavy passages, the attention lavished on each and every note as she ascends and descends the keyboard around halfway through, Kosuge delivers. Then there's the Largo. Slow and largely quiet, with some stilted left hand playing, pregnant pauses for effect, rubato sprinkled throughout, and some chords arpeggiated in a way I don't recall having heard before, she delivers. The Allegro comes across as sweet sounding and leisurely in the outer sections, and more vigorous and with a somewhat lurching effect in the bass during the trio. Kosuge then opens the Rondo at a slower than normal tempo, and proceeds to inject all manner of personal touches. The more intense passages are handled deftly, and as the piece plays on and the coda approaches, it begins to sound like a meandering fantasy peppered with felicitous pianistic touches everywhere. It's really quite something. The disc and volume closes with 81a. The Adagio is slow and stretched out and gentle, and the Allegro is potent, but as played by Kosuge, the movement doesn't really cohere, with the transitions being somewhat abrupt and the flow interrupted and the focus on phrases and notes. Yet it works well. The Andante espressivo offers more of that wide dynamic range, generally slow playing, and as before, the playing often focuses on individual phrases and notes more than the whole. But when each note can sound magnificent, well, that's fine. Kosuge then displays her chops with a brisk, lively, and showy Vivacissimamente. She bursts forth, playing some passages at breakneck speed, though everything stays under the firmest of firm control. Exuberance, verve, drive, all are on display, but Kosuge never seems to miss an opportunity to play with a delicate touch when possible. The only caveat has to do with the slightly distended playing just before the boisterous coda. Overall, a superb closer to a generally superb disc and volume.

Volume four, Transzendenz starts with the Op 10 trio. (?) Kosuge launches 10/1 with an ascending arpeggio of virtuosic accomplishment, and while she plays the slower bits just a bit slower than normal, she lets loose a bit more than normal in the faster passages. Once again, her left hand playing is uncommonly easy to follow without being unduly prominent. The Adagio is slow and beautiful, and Kosuge compliments largely languid left hand playing with right hand playing that alternates between lovely and deliberate and delightfully dextrous when she plays runs. Kosuge plays the Prestissimo at a nice pace, and one de-arpegiatted arpeggio side, plays it pretty straight, with plenty of clean articulation, wide dynamics, and individual rubato confined to slower sections for effect, or affect, depending on taste. Superb. 10/2 opens with a swift but slightly held back, dynamically nuanced Allegro. In the middle section, she plays with a halting gallop. The Allegretto includes more of her standard style, and the repeatless (boo!) Presto is all energy and good fun. Superb. 10/3 opens with a Presto of more than adequate energy and drive, yet Kosuge manages to deploy her normal interpretive devices. The piano sound is just a bit rounded off, a bit soft, so there's not as much bite as there could be, but whatcha gonna do? The Largo finds Kosuge firing on all cylinders. The tempo is slow; the dynamic gradations are nuanced to n-th degree; pauses are deployed effectively; certain notes and phrases are most definitely ''interpreted'' (some might say idiosyncratic); the build up to the climax is extended slightly and very effective. Only the undernourished volume at the climax could be considered mildly disappointing. Or not. The Menuetto is well nigh perfect, with somewhat relaxed outer sections, and a delightful middle section. The Allegro is pretty nifty, too, with plenty of verve and drive where needed, and some slightly longer than normal pauses and slightly slower than normal playing sprinkled throughout. A superb closer to the superb first disc of the volume.

Disc eight opens with Op 22. (Transzendenz?) The Allegro con brio sounds spiffy. Nicely paced, with nice drive, beefy bass on occasion, more of that splendid leading from behind left hand playing, and x-ray detail, it gets things off to a nice start. The Adagio plays to Kosuge's strengths, as she plays at a nice pace with plenty of gentle dynamic gradations, lovely legato and tone, with details gently emerging throughout. The Minuetto is lovely and flowing in the outer sections, and the trio displays something close to bite, and certainly sounds quite clear. Kosuge ends the sonata with a very slightly leisurely Rondo, again with each and every note and chord crystal clear, though in the faster passages, Kosuge plays with more pep. An excellent performance, if not up there with the best. Op 106 follows. Kosuge plays the opening movement at a nicely paced 10'38''. There's less slowing down and lavishing delicately nuanced attention on notes and phrases – though there is still more than normal – but the detailed sound is still there, and Kosuge plays some upper register passages with a flintiness not displayed to this point. I'm thinking it's purposeful in this meticulously produced set. While it sounds satisfyingly large in scale and heft, it sounds due more to the recording technique than the playing. A bit of congestion also creeps in at times, indicating that the movement takes a fair amount of work for the pianist. I shan't hold that against her. Except for the middle section, the Scherzo is a bit slower, returning to the standard Kosuge soundworld. (Truth to tell, I was hoping she would have gone slower and more detailed in the opening movement.) Kosuge takes over 21' to play the Adagio, and at the outset it is slow and very small in scale, very intimate, almost confessional. She ratchets up intensity a bit after a bit, but then she backs off again. The playing doesn't sound cold or desolate, but rather assumes a sense of detached melancholy. Then, around 12'30'' or so, Kosuge plays louder and sharper, and the playing takes on a kind of desperation, before reverting back, and then, with some almost static playing, and some pregnant pauses, achieving a sense of despair. The final movement opens with a fine but unexceptional Largo, and then moves into a fugue that benefits from the detailed approach so common in this set, and also ends up having some passages played much slower than normal, though others are more conventionally paced. The Adagio ends up the strong point in a compelling recording, and the disc is excellent.

The final volume, Botschaft, kicks off with Op 13, and Op 13 starts off super slow, with the opening chord of the Grave setting the pace, extended out of proportion, and Kosuge adds, to borrow from Zoolander, really, really, ridiculously long pauses for effect. Kosuge then maximizes contrast by playing the Allegro fast. The soft-edged sound remains, but there is plenty of energy, if not drama, though, a few times, when she abruptly plays more loudly, hints of bite can be heard. Kosuge then proceeds to play the Adagio in very slow, mostly very quiet fashion. She has that talent that allows her to play the music at very slow tempi without breaking the musical line. The movement seems perhaps just a bit too subdued, but it fits in with the conception just fine. Kosuge keeps up the slow, slower, slowest approach in the Rondo. Here it hampers the movement quite a bit. Sure, one can marvel at the clarity of every note and phrase, so carefully played, but there's essentially no energy. Op 26 follows. The Andante sounds lovely and poised, and then Kosuge proceeds to play the variations in highly varied form, slow, beautiful, somber, swift, rhythmically snappy, she covers all the bases, though some of the playing can easily be described as too fussy. The Scherzo is much closer to conventional in the outer sections, which are played quickly, with superb clarity and drive, and thundering bass, while the middle section offers a little oasis of prettiness. The funeral march is predictably slow, and largely very somber and funereal, but parts sound halting and stilted, somewhat blunting the effect. Kosuge then dispatches the Allegro at a zippy pace, with weighty but rounded sforzandi and a really peppy rhythm. The opening movement of Op 54 ends up benefiting mightily from Kosuge's style. The minuet is lovely and lyrical, never more so than when Kosuge plays some amazing trills, and the triplets sections are suitably vigorous and insistent. The Allegretto is fluid is zippy and occasionally hefty and potent, and occasionally lithe and slick, with an incredibly fast and intense coda. It's one of the best recordings in the cycle. Op 57 ends the disc. The Allegro assai starts off slow, quiet, and mysterious, then quickly transitions to loud, thundering playing, before fading back to something more subdued, and at times almost feathery light. The somewhat extreme contrasts do become somewhat episodic, though not enough to prevent thorough enjoyment. The Andante con moto lowers the musical temperature as Kosuge plays in subdued and cool fashion through the theme and variations. She then launches into the final movement with some crashing chords, though they are not ear-splitting, before dialing back the volume, and going for some more subdued playing, before ratcheting up the tension, volume, and speed again. Throughout, Kosuge rarely unloads, preferring instead to keep things tense and controlled, though when she does unload, it offers excitement and contrast and sounds effective, if a bit contrived, at least sonically. An excellent disc.

The cycle ends with the last three sonatas. Op 109 starts with a slightly soft-edged Vivace ma non troppo, but that smallest of small quibble aside, Kosuge otherwise delivers a lovely, spacious, at least partly transcendent opening movement, and the clarity and detail add to the allure. The Prestissimo has uncommonly wide-ranging dynamics, particularly on the piano to pianissimo end of the spectrum, and manages to sound both forceful and restrained. The Andante, opening at more of an Adagio or even Largo tempo, is among the most beautiful I've heard, and Kosuge maintains a serene transcendence through the first variation. The second variation has hints of the 'little stars' section of the second movement of Op 111, and the third is swift but not pushed and the volume remains restrained, and the right hand playing is a marvel of clarity. The remaining variations, even when played fast, display more than hints of transcendence, with a wonderfully elongated end to the fifth variation that trails off to silence before Kosuge ends the piece with almost static playing. Perhaps the playing becomes a little episodic and it has an analytical feel – or at least a presentation that makes hearing each section uncommonly easy – but Kosuge holds it all together splendidly. Op 110 keeps the good, transcendent times going. Kosuge plays a fair portion of the music gently and with great delicacy and beauty, and her left hand playing, when not displaying that clear but subdued style she commands, simply and effortless moves to the fore. The Allegro molto never achieves a particularly loud forte, but if somewhat muted in that regard, every other aspect remains compelling and clear. The final movement starts off with a tense and quietly desperate and subtly beautiful recitative and arioso. The fugue displays admirable clarity, steady forward drive, and satisfying volume, and then transfers to another beautiful and perhaps just slightly melancholy second arioso. The repeated chord transition to the inverted fugue starts very quiet and builds up in volume to a decent but not quite loud enough climax, and the inverted fugue itself sounds generally superb, some possible left hand wobbliness just before the coda potentially excepted. Op 111 starts with a somewhat dark hued but not particularly intense Maestoso, moves to a swift, clear Allegro, though one without a great deal of intensity. That written, the right hand playing ends up achieving a bright, colorful sound in the loudest passages that is most appealing. The Arietta starts off in a predictable manner: slow and lovely, and the second half moves into a static soundworld. The segue to the first variation is seamless, and the playing is transcendent and lovely, with a few spots where Kosuge adds micro-pauses. The second variation is noticeably quicker and more rhythmically jaunty, which makes way for a vigorous, rich and bright boogie woogie variation where Kosuge achieves a satisfying volume. As the movement progresses beyond that point, Kosuge enters the realm of the transcendent, delivering dry, pointed, almost fragile 'little stars', with the left hand playing especially delicate. The trills are steady and played with a pleasing legato, and a few times Kosuge comes close to Yamane levels of quietude. A few passages seem a bit clunky or disjointed, and though they last mere seconds in total, they do detract just a smidge from the proceedings. That written, the transition to the coda and the coda itself end the work on a high note. The cycle ends with an extremely strong disc and volume.

Another new cycle down, and it is something, but it will definitely not be everyone’s cup of tea. Kosuge’s style is highly interventionist; it can easily be considered fussy and mannered. It is. But this offers an example – like Heidsieck or Sherman – where such an approach works, in contrast to others – Kuerti or Lim – where it does not. I can see people disliking it as much as I like it. Throughout the cycle, Kosuge tends to favor playing slowly, beautifully, and with almost ridiculous levels of detail. This last facet is aided by the extremely close sound, complete with heavy breathing throughout the set, which also ends up blunting the edges of sforzandi and limiting true dynamic range. At least part of Kosuge’s incredible piano-to-pianissimo dynamic subtlety is due to the recording technique. The sound also seems a bit processed. This gives the cycle a very studio-bound feel, but that’s quite alright by me. I get the feeling that Kosuge sounds different in person. As I listened, I couldn't help but think of this set as a sort of updated version of Yaeko Yamane's cycle. (I realize I am one of probably less than a hundred people outside Japan who has heard both cycles.) Kosuge’s style is personal, exploratory, and feminine. There’s more to Beethoven’s music, or at least there can be, than storming the heavens all the time. If one wants stormy-only Beethoven, or realistic piano perspectives, or harshness, or unyielding intensity, this set is to be avoided. Me, I dig it. It joins my second tier with some heavy-hitters in the repertoire.

 

[Todd A]

Well, I've finally arrived. Garrick Ohlsson's LvB sonata cycle, Cycle #91 in my collection, is the last readily available, reasonably priced set on CD that I do not own. To be sure, I hope for reissues of the cycles by Robert Riefling and Michael Steinberg and Robert Taub, and if a couple other cycles come down in price – Shoko Sugitani, Michael Houstoun's first cycle – I'll grab those, but I'm done picking up cycles from the past. I'm also wavering on Rudolf Buchbinder's third cycle out on BD. If it makes it to CD, I'll buy right away, and I may just buy it and be done with it, but now I basically get to look forward when it comes to LvB cycles. (And with the final installments of Paavali Jumppanen’s and Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s cycles only weeks away, I don’t have long to wait.)

Garrick Ohlsson is not unknown to me, though my collection has few recordings from him. My impression of his playing prior to this cycle was of a pianist possessed of immense technique, and size, and one not prone to garishness or unpleasantness. He struck me as an anti-vulgarian, a pianist who could unleash torrents of notes at breakneck speed to compete with the showiest virtuoso, but one who treads a different path. I’ve known about his cycle since it finished, and I kind of hoped for a box-set issue, but since it didn’t seem to be on the offing, I went the nine volume route instead, just to get it over with.

Sensibly enough, I started in with volume one. Volume one starts with Op 7. (It is also labeled Volume Two on the back cover.) And it starts off with an Allegro molto con brio of a nice, leisurely pace, and titanic dynamic swings. Mr Ohlsson is one of those pianists who never sounds as though he's straining, even when playing at volumes that split the ear, and so it proves here. (Probably doesn't hurt that he's the size of a moose.) He seems to just glide effortlessly along. Everything fits just right, the little touches are discreet and stylistically appropriate. The Largo is suitably slow and perhaps just a bit lacking in expression, but dig the hyper-detailed repeated notes near the end! The Allegro cruises along at a slightly relaxed pace like the opening movement, and in the Rondo Ohlsson plays with a slowness and deliberateness that normally would grate, but here works, and he also plays some passages with puckish humor before launching into a big-boned and intense but tightly controlled middle section. Op 78 opens in relaxed and warm and strong but subdued fashion, and Ohlsson again plays with a somewhat leisurely overall pace and demeanor, but he also brings out every detail with utmost clarity and exactitude, and his seamless dynamic gradations add a bit of seriousness and scale to the music. The Allegro vivace is dispatched at a comfortable pace that often sounds slower than it is because of the ease with which Ohlsson dispatches any passages that require any skill. It's jaunty fun, and pristine. The disc closes with Op 101. Ohlsson plays it very much with late LvB sound, and the first movement attains a level of transcendent sound usually reserved for the last three sonatas. The march is a bit rounded off, lacking in biting sforzandi, though the rhythmic snap and dynamics are there. The Adagio returns to a nice late LvB soundworld and transitions to the concluding Allegro with some lovely trills. Ohlsson adds a nice pause after the transition, then he plays the rest of the movement effortlessly, unfurling every detail. He plays just a bit on the broad side, but not enough to affect forward momentum, and he closes with perfectly controlled thundering playing. A strong start, though none of the works would necessarily crack the top 5/10/20. Sound is superb for the Hamburg Steinway.

Volume two opens with sonata two, and here Ohlsson opts to play the opening Allegro vivace at an ef-fortlessly fast and chipper clip, poking out every passage with near nonchalance. It's quite charm-ing. Ohlsson then slows way down, and plays gently, in the Largo, to excellent effect, and he wallops out the loudest playing at a proper slow tempo with a still softened edge. The Scherzo is light and playful, but the Rondo, while meeting the grazioso designation, slows things down quite a bit. It's lei-surely and relaxed and fun, the nicely biting middle section excepted, but somewhat out of character with the other faster movements. Op 81a follows. The opening Adagio is nicely slow but somewhat cold and empty, and the Allegro is well paced, but it doesn't evoke much in the way of emotion. The second movement does a better job in this regard, and Ohlsson plays it at a slightly slow tempo and lav-ishes attention on every note and phrase. The final movement opens with a quasi-orchestral flourish, and Ohlsson plays the rest of the movement in suitably buoyant and large scaled fashion. A solid read-ing. Op 111 closes the disc. The Maestoso is dark hued and rich, and it segues to a Allegro that is fast and suitably intense, and takes full advantage of the tangy upper registers of the 1919 Mason & Hamlin grand, and Ohlsson's ability to play extremely hefty bass lines without congestion or hardness. In the Arietta, Ohlsson opts to go slow and immediately establishes a transcendent soundworld, and in the second half he plays in an ethereal yet heavy and static manner to mesmerizing effect. The first varia-tion only slowly unfolds, in what sounds, for lack of a better description, as the start of a musical quest. The second variation becomes a little tenser, and then the third variation is less boogie woogie than rhythmically vibrant and still transcendent. The "little stars" are among the slowest and most con-trolled I've heard, and it is that control that transforms them into something profound. Here, slow is profound. The rest of the movement proceeds at a very deliberate pace, and Ohlsson keeps every-thing transcendent as all get out. The trills, not blazing fast or unduly crisp, offer a gentler rhythmic foundation. At times, they veer toward the super-soft side of the spectrum, approaching Yaeko Yama-ne levels. And while that weighty bass and those tangy upper registers reappear, Ohlsson keeps all beautiful and leads up to the coda with some of the most beautiful playing imagineable, and the coda itself represents arrival in musical Elysium. So, a somewhat mixed but overall solid disc, culminating in a world class Op 111.

Volume three opens with sonata number three. Ohlsson plays the opening Allegro con brio with plenty of brio, but the recorded sound of the Bösendorfer (from 2003) lacks the clarity of the first disc (from 2006), especially during faster passages, but it is clear that it's not Ohlsson's playing that’s to blame. Sonic quibble aside, there are enough little touches and moments of playfulness and unabashed virtuosity to satisfy. The Adagio is hypnotically slow and deliberate, with the effect disturbed, in a just right way, when Ohlsson belts out the tolling bass notes with near bruising power. The slightly slow, deliberately heavy Scherzo is very effective, with the vibrant middle section a particular treat. Ohlsson keeps a lid on his playing in the Allegro assai, with precise, deliberate playing that nevertheless never sounds ponderous or heavy. Op 14/1 follows, and Ohlsson again opts for a measured overall tempo for the work, but he plays the piece in a comparatively grand fashion, especially in the hefty yet lithe Rondo. Ohlsson proceeds to layer in some softer, more laid back playing in 14/2's Allegro, to excellent effect, and Ohlsson's independence of hands brings out all the good stuff in the middle section. The Andante sounds quite languid, and is very effective, and Ohlsson keeps the reins on the Scherzo, but it is incredibly fun, with laughing arpeggios and perfectly delivered bass lines. Op 79, from 2006 sessions, closes the disc, and the Steinway sounds brighter and clearer, and Ohlsson plays the opening Presto alla tedesca with just enough verve to make it work. The real treat here, though, is the supremely lyrical and beautiful Andante, which is underpinned by a rock-solid, but never obtrusive left had. Ohlsson wraps it up with a perfectly suitable Vivace. Another strong disc.

Volume four, played on a rebuilt 1919 Mason & Hamlin concert grand, opens with Op 26. As with prior volumes, Ohlsson opts for slightly slow tempi, and while the Andante theme comes off very well, most of the variations come off as too slow and affectatious, aside from the lovely fifth variation. The Scherzo manages to be ever so slightly slow yet still have nice forward momentum. Ohlsson's take on the funeral march is suitably slow and hefty, with effective dynamic swells, and the pianos upper registers have a nice, tangy sound from time to time. The middle section could, perhaps, use a bit more pep, but then again, maybe not. The final movement fits in with Ohlsson's conception and is well executed, but the opening movement kind of prevents it from being among the better options out there. Op 28 follows. Ohlsson generally broad approach works here, as the opening movement flows along with ample lyricism, hefty scale, and upper register bite. The Andante likewise flows well, though the middle section, with every note meticulously made the center of attention, comes close to sounding stiff. The Scherzo is delightful, with some thunderous playing in the outer sections, and a subdued and mischievous middle section, and the Rondo sounds delightfully languid for the most part, with the predictable powerful playing in louder passages. The disc closes with Op 90. Ohlsson plays the opening movement with a sense of intensity and urgency befitting the music, and both the clarity of the accompaniment and precision of the fast passages are most impressive. The sforzandi may lack the last word in edginess, but the overall sound and feel is right up there with some of the best recordings. The second movement generally flows along nicely enough, but it retains more than hints of the astringency of the opening movement. At its loveliest, the playing makes me think Ohlsson could deliver some fine Schubert.

Volume five is one of those named sonata discs so popular with record labels big and small, here Opp 13, 27/2, and 53. Op 13 opens it. The Grave opening chord is held for a longer than normal time, and the entire section is slower, though not necessarily more dramatic, than normal. The Allegro is dispatched with ease, and while not at all wimpy or lethargic, lacks the drive and vigor of other versions I prefer. The Adagio cantabile is subdued and most definitely cantabile, with Ohlsson coaxing and luxuriant sound from the Bösendorfer. The Rondo is more or less like the opening Allegro and is effective in Ohlsson's conception. The Mondschein sonata's Adagio sostenuto is slow and somber and Ohlsson’s basic tempo remains remarkably steady. The Allegretto is somewhat soft-edged – certainly more so than one might expect from the instrument – and a bit on the leisurely side. Ohlsson cranks things up for the Presto agitato, which is brisk, and benefits from effortless delivery and big league dynamics. Ohlsson takes the opening movement of the Waldstein at a speedy but perfectly controlled clip, and one gets a strong sense that if he really let loose, it would be an explosive display. His playing of the slower passages is quite a bit slower and tonally varied, and the scale he achieves in the loudest passages is most satisfying. The Introduzione is a bit slow and subdued, to good effect, and then Ohlsson finally unloads in the Allegro moderato. Comparatively swift and graced with potent dynamics and impressive digital dexterity and precision, Ohlsson delivers a superb ending to a corker of an Op 53. An uneven disc overall, but man, it's worth it for the Waldstein alone.

Volume 6 starts off with a broad tempo Hammerklavier that tips the scales at a smidge over forty-five minutes. Ohlsson plays the opening Allegro at a very leisurely 11'32" (booklet time), and it is a credit to his playing that it does not sound too sluggish. No, it sounds positively grand in scale and weighty in purpose. Everything is clear and dynamics are effective. Still, the lack of drive ultimately robs the music of something. The Scherzo is closer to conventional in tempo and delivery, and is boosted by Ohlsson's big playing. The Adagio, clocking in at about 19', manages to sound a bit quicker and tauter than its timing suggests, and this owes to Ohlsson's ability to keep the playing tense and forward moving at all times. As the movement slows, Ohlsson does an excellent job of creating a sense of desolation and despondency. The closing movement starts off with a nice Largo, which is slower and more deliberate than average as it transitions to the fugue, which is clear and clean, if not always the last word in energy. The critical Op 31/1 follows. Ohlsson plays the Allegro vivace it bit safe in terms of tempo again, but per usual, he delivers a wide dynamic range, and his rhythmic snap is fine, and he imbues the playing with enough joviality to satisfy. The Andante grazioso is taken at a reasonable tempo, and Ohlsson softens up in the opening, delivering some lovely, lighthearted and fun playing. The trills are a bit blurred together, to so-so effect, but the right hand runs are outstanding. The middle section is slyly subdued compared to many readings. Ohlsson once again takes the leisurely route in the Allegretto, and here he makes his deliberateness part of the joke. It reminds me a bit of Russell Sherman in spirit, though not execution. Ohlsson attends to every detail just so, and if perhaps the playing doesn't sound spontaneous, it nonetheless adequately conveys a sense of fun. Neither sonata here rates among my favorite versions, but it is another solid disc. Sound is excellent, and the Mason & Hamlin sounds nice and tangy in upper registers, especially in 106.

Op 22 opens volume seven, and Ohlsson plays the Allegro con brio in uncharacteristically fast manner, and makes a musical meal out of the material. A few pregnant pauses are really the only personal de-vices that Ohlsson uses in this straight-shooting and most satisfying movement. The Adagio is played at a just right tempo that both flows and displays minor hints of tension. The slightly leisurely Menuetto likewise flows well, and here Ohlsson deploys some personal rubato and accents to good ef-fect. The middle section is somewhat contained in terms of tempo, but Ohlsson manages to play with notable intensity nonetheless. The Rondo is a bit slow, even in the middle section, but still sounds fi-ne. The overall conception is superb, and execution is world class. This is one of the highlights of the cycle to this point. 27/1 follows, and as usual, Ohlsson plays it safe when it comes to tempo in the opening Andante, which sounds soothing and lovely. He maintains the approach in the faster middle section, which ends up sounding a bit kludgy as a result. The Allegro is likewise a bit slow, but it sounds uncommonly weighty, and the Adagio is a slower, more ruminative take on the opening materi-al. The final Allegro vivace, while peppier, is just not energetic enough. The sonata is kind of a whiff. The disc closes with Op 110. Ohlsson seems a different pianist almost. The opening bars are measured and immediately establish a suitable late-LvB sound world, and then Ohlsson effortlessly transitions to swift and articulate and never strained playing, and then back again. The slightly slow Allegro molto displays plenty of heft and drive. The opening Arioso in the final movement is dark and nearly otherworldly and supremely beautiful, and Ohlsson lets the final notes fade off into silence be-fore deliberately starting in on the fugue, which he builds up in both speed and volume to a most satis-fying climax before transitioning back to the second Arioso. The second one is quicker, tenser, almost strident at times. The repeated chords build up nicely, and Ohlsson once again allows the final notes to fade nicely before starting in on the inverted fugue. Here, he starts off more quickly, and his playing is strikingly nimble and precise and quick. The coda is dispatched quickly and effortlessly. Ohlsson knows how to end the work. Sound for the Mason & Hamlin disc is excellent.

The penultimate volume opens with the first sonata. Ohlsson's approach is slightly broad in Allegro, with some micro-pauses thrown in, but it's pretty standard stuff. The Adagio is a fairly laid-back affair, and pleasant, if not much more than that. The Menuetto takes the certain warmth that was established in the Adagio, and layers in most attractive lyricism with just tiny hints of tangy upper register Bösen-dorfer goodness, though it might be, maybe, just a bit too leisurely. But then again, maybe not. The Prestissimo finds Ohlsson delivering some powerful playing, as expected, along with some more leisure-ly tempi again, this time to the slight detriment of the music. Next, Op 57. The Allegro assai starts slow and mysterious, Ohlsson holding back, but then he thunders excitingly during the stormy passag-es, playing the loudest passages with nary a hint of strain, though the slightly distant, veiled sound blunts the effect a bit. The Andante con moto sounds warm and a bit heavy, though in a good way, an autumnal respite before Ohlsson belts out a close to unrestrained Allegro. While some of the playing is indeed restrained, here one gets to hear more of what Ohlsson can do when he chooses. Good stuff. The disc ends with Op 109. Ohlsson does a good job of creating a late-LvB sound. His playing, while once again slightly leisurely, is uncommonly large in scale, and he manhandles the loud passages in a most satisfying way, and also plays with more than a bit of lyricism. The Prestissimo is just a bit slow, but otherwise displays ample weight and drive. The final movement starts off with a lovely but kind of heavy Andante. Ohlsson moves through the variations at his standard, somewhat leisurely pace for the most part, and for the most part he delivers the goods, though here and there I may have quibbles with his playing. The playing gathers steam in the final variation, building to a satisfying climax, before the calm return of the opening theme. An excellent performance, but not as good as 110 or 111. Sound of the Bösendorfer is ever so slightly veiled, but otherwise up to modern snuff.

Volume nine is a twofer filled with eight sonatas. The Op 10 sonatas are played on a Steinway, every-thing else is played on a Mason & Hamlin. The ninth disc opens with Op 10/1, and the opening ascend-ing arpeggios are noticeably slower than normal, but they are also weightier than normal. The same can be said for the whole movement. It can't be called Snickers, though, because it doesn't satisfy. The approach is similar but slower still in the Adagio, and at times each individual note is the center of at-tention. In the Prestissimo, Ohlsson almost lets loose, playing with speed, precision, and near bruising power. Where was this combo in the opening movement? 10/2's Allegro is taken at a fitting tempo, and has an at times growling bass line underpinning it, and Ohlsson doesn't let up on the power, ei-ther. The second movement is suitably contained, and the repeatless (boo!) Presto is snappy enough. 10/3 opens with an Allegretto sounding Presto, but Ohlsson's forward momentum is unyield-ing, a pianistic bulldozer spiced up by more potent playing. The supremely controlled Largo manages to be slow yet tense throughout, and Ohlsson's established ability to belt out thunderous playing makes the build-up to the climax extremely effective. The Menuetto is notably slower than the norm, though Ohlsson manages to make it flow well. The Rondo is basically standard in approach and caps a very fine seventh sonata. Op 53 closes the first disc. Ohlsson nicely contrasts the two main themes in the first movement, and grinds out the second theme, though once again it can be heard to be a bit leisurely tempo-wise. The second movement, too, is a bit slow, and here it does hurt things a bit. I just wish Ohlsson would let loose a bit more, though I appreciate the qualities of his playing for what they are.

The final disc in the cycle opens with the The Tempest. Ohlsson opts for a somewhat soft, defi-nitely slow and drawn out Largo, but then, bam!, the Allegro has plenty of heft, drive, and bite. Ohlsson contrasts these two approaches effectively throughout the movement. The Adagio comes off well, offering surface tension if not much drama. In the Allegretto, the well-judged tempo com-bines with Ohlsson's other recurring traits for a solid closer to a solid reading. 31/3 follows. Ohlsson certainly maintains the right spirit in the Allegro. Sure it could be quicker, but he plays it with the right degree of musical jocularity and executive seriousness. Alas, Ohlsson plays the Scherzo in super-slow motion. Allegro vivace becomes Adagio molto, and it also sounds ponderous. There are other slow to really slow renditions of this movement out there, and they suck, too, just not as bad. The Menuetto is a bit quicker, and Ohlsson's style works well here. The middle section sounds like something of a re-prise of the Scherzo, though here, in this context, it works better, though it is still to slow and cumber-some. Ohlsson plays the Presto con fuoco with more pep and fun, but the big ol' sonic thud that is the Scherzo sinks this sonata. Op 31 is ungreat: the cycle is ungreat. The cycle ends with the Op 49 sona-tas. The cycle ends more or less as one might expect. The playing is controlled, a bit slow, and quite attractive. The second is a bit better than the first, but nothing comes off as objectionable.

That generally holds true for the cycle as a whole. The word slow, or variations thereof, pop up throughout my comments, and it is one of the recurring traits. There’s nothing wrong with a slower overall approach, as both Emil Gilels and Claudio Arrau demonstrated. This cycle, though, doesn’t quite measure up to those. It lacks the depth, though Ohlsson’s playing is by no means shallow. It just doesn’t work as well overall. To be sure, there are a few whiffs buried in the cycle, though that holds true for just about every cycle, though here it happens once in Op 31, with the inevitable consequences for overall quality, at least for me. The vast dynamic range on display, the usually superb clarity, the supreme control, the usually lovely and never harsh tone: there are many positives to the cycle, there’s no doubt of that. It just doesn’t match the best sets out there for me. In my own personal tiering sys-tem, I’d have to say third or fourth tier, not because anything is bad, just because it’s not great. Which tier would probably depend on my mood at any given time. Others may very well rate it much more highly, and I have a pretty good notion of why.



Amazon UK link to volume one.

 

[davidavdavid]

Todd, now that you have acquired your 91st set of Sonatas, the last readily available set, how about a recap in the form of a list with your both your rankings and respective tiers.

Thanks so much for everything.

 

[Todd A]

Todd, now that you have acquired your 91st set of Sonatas, the last readily available set, how about a recap in the form of a list with your both your rankings and respective tiers.

I plan on updating my list fully after the Jumppanen and Bavouzet final installments gets digested next month. While I have a rough idea where these two might fall qualitatively, I think it's best to wait since both of them include the last three sonatas.

 

[Todd A]

The last volume of Jean-Efflam’s Bavouzet is stylistically like the first two volumes. It is very French. It may be the Frenchest cycle yet, Frencher even than Yves Nat or Georges Pludermacher. By French I mean that the playing is generally light, generally swift, and more about surface playing than great depth. There’s comparatively little in the way of grand gesture or idiosyncratic waywardness. This approach paid dividends in the first volume, less in the second, and less yet here.

The set covers sonatas from Op 54 to the end, and starting with Op 54, there’s a lack of intensity and bite where there often is much more. The opening movements of both Op 54 and 90 are a bit restrained. Op 57 can best be described as athletic. (The great Robert Casadesus offers a French Appassionata more down my alley.) The opener of 106 is small in scale. The first movement of 111 lacks bite, though it is peppy. Op 81a is emotionally cool, which is not necessarily a problem, but it just doesn’t pop. The biggest problem comes in the late sonatas. As already mentioned, 106 is small of scale in the fast movements, and doesn’t delve much below the surface in the slow movement. Opp 109 and 110, while nicely played and brisk, never establish a late LvB soundworld, and they sound more middle period. The opening and Arietta of 111 are both good for their style, but as the second movement progresses, one hears uncommonly mechanical “little stars” and clean but kind of dull chains of trills. Somehow, even the acciaccatura in Op 79 seems a bit mechanical and humorless.

Sound is excellent, if a bit small in scale.

The cycle starts off strong, but doesn’t end well. Probably fourth tier overall for me.



Amazon UK Link

 

[Todd A]

(I originally posted on another site on the Pavaali Jumppanen releases as they came out, so I am posting them together here in one post.)

Op 2 is bad, very bad. And it is attributable to Jumppanen's ornamentation in all but the slow movements. Some ornamentation is cringe-inducing, some ugly, and almost all of it is terrible. That written, when he plays more directly, he is quite good, recalling his superb playing in the Violin Sonata set with Corey Cerovsek. His playing in Opp 101 and 106 is also much, much better. His penchant for the occasional long pause, which also shows up in Op 2, is a mannerism I could live without, but his clarity in the fugues more than offsets quibbles in this regard. A mixed bag of a set. I just hope the remaining early sonatas aren't treated similarly to Op 2. Superb sound.

Jumppanen plays 10/1 in a fairly conventional manner. The ascending arpeggios in the first movement are nice, as is the rest of the movement; the slow movement is appealing; the final movement is energetic, fast, and meticulously well played. 10/2 starts off in promising fashion, with Jumppanen keeping things light and fun, and just sort of – wait, WTF? He throws in a mini-cadenza near the end for, well, I have no idea whatsoever. It doesn't fit at all. The second movement is fine, and the final movement is generally fine, though some right hand chords sound more like stitched together tone clusters. 10/3 also opens fairly conventionally, with a peppy tempo in the Presto, and not a little in the way of awesome independence of hands. No hard to follow bass lines here. The Largo is slow and gloomy and possessed of the extended pauses displayed in the first volume. Jumppanen ratchets up intensity nicely for the climax and trails off thereafter. The last two movements are again both pretty conventional, though both are delivered with a nice degree of exuberance. So, the WTF moment and perhaps a few too long pauses aside, an excellent disc.

The second disc is devoted to Op 50-something works. It's always nice to listen to a pianist who can play the opening movement of Op 53 at any tempo he or she chooses while also displaying masterful dynamic control. Jumppanen doesn't really shine a new light on anything, and his extended pauses at the end aside, doesn't even throw in any quirks. The Introduzione is a bit slower than normal, but nothing unusual, and the final movement has a basically perfect tempo, a vast dynamic range, and great clarity. The opening movement to Op 54 displays widely contrasting themes, and Jumppanen displays some mighty clean and accurate playing in the fast sections, and some more slightly extended pauses aside, is pretty straightforward, and the second movement is played in swift, perpetuum mobile style. Op 57 offers Jumppanen an ability to display his chops again, with wide dynamic swings, precise playing, some loud, fast chords stopping on a dime, and all manner of pianistic pyrotechnics in the first movement. The Andante is a nice rest, though not without tension where appropriate, that gives way to a fast, intense, clear, hefty, meticulously played final movement. I can't say there's much passion or emotional involvement; it's just super-snazzy playing. Jumppanen seems to dash the notes off with ease.

SOTA sound.

Twofer three. The fifth disc in the cycle is devoted mostly to small works – Opp 14 and 49 – with Op 22 separating them. Jumppanen plays 14/1 pretty straight. The outer movements are taken at just right tempi and sound quite lovely, and the slow movement displays just a hint of urgency to the playing while still keeping things light. 14/2 starts off even better, with Jumppanen playing the opening movement with singing tone and nice, not overdone articulation. The Andante starts off slow, sounding like a comic, light, sweet march, and he proceeds through the variations in a like manner until the pounded out coda. A sheer delight. The Scherzo is mischievously dashed off with light effortlessness. Without a doubt, this is one of the finest renditions of this sonata I've heard. Op 22 starts up where 14/2 left off. Jumppanen plays the Allegro con brio with almost Pienaar-esque scampering style and speed at times, but he keeps things sounding more conventional when playing fast. He also plays with some healthy dollops of eminently tasteful rubato throughout. The Adagio starts off quick and tense in the opening section, and then switches gears to a dark, serious, heavy playing for a while, before lightening up a bit. The changeups are very well done. Jumppanen does the whole light, fun outer section, intense fast inner section of the Minuetto superbly well, and then delivers a Rondo with all the elements blended together just right – speed, dynamics, hints of rubato. A peach of a performance. In Op 49, Jumppanen once again lets his penchant for ornamentation get the better of of him. In the first sonata, his ornamentation works somewhat better than in prior outings, adding a bit of heft to the music, but it still doesn't sound right. The ornamentation in the second sonata is more pronounced, and if still not as bad as in Op 2, it stills doesn't endear itself to me. This would work better in recital than on disc, I think.

Disc six opens with Op 26. Jumppanen plays the opening Andante theme conventionally, then plays the variations with varying degrees of rubato, all of which works well. The Scherzo is played at a nice, quick clip and displays admirable clarity. The funeral march is somber and serious and contained at the open, and Jumppanen builds up the tension and volume nicely as the movement progresses. Jumppanen plays the Allegro at a fast tempo and with buoyant energy. A snazzy end to a solid performance. 27/1 features nicely a paced and attractive Andante and reprise flanking a vibrant, quick, extremely nimble Allegro – it would be nice to hear Jumppanen play some virtuoso show pieces – which then moves to high boogie factor Allegro molto e vivace, then to slightly quick Adagio that stays somewhat superficial, and then to some more high boogie factor playing in the Allegro vivace. The Mondschein opens with a conventional sounding, not particularly hazy, not particularly anything Adagio, moves onto a similarly anodyne Allegretto, and finally to a swift but not particularly memorable Presto. Sure, there's some rubato and a couple moments where Jumppanen holds a chord a bit longer than normal, but it just doesn't excite. Everything is meticulously played and attractive, but it just doesn't do much for me. Op 28 closes out this volume. In some ways, it displays the same unremarkable character of 27/2. All of Jumppanen's tempo choices makes sense. His dynamics, his phrasing, his small little touches, all sound both good but kind of just there. Only the brief bout of ornamentation near the end of Scherzo is truly noteworthy. There's no doubting the quality of Jumppanen's playing, but the interpretation just doesn't do much for me. So, a mixed set, ranging from the idiosyncratic (Opp 49), to the sublime (14/2), to the mundane (27/2, 28).

SOTA sound.

Twofer four. The seventh disc of the cycle contains the Op 31 trio. Jumppanen plays the Allegro vivace more or less straight. There's ample drive, clean articulation, and satisfying dynamic range in a well put together opening movement. The Adagio grazioso offers a bit more. Beautiful, blurred trills, a fun, scampering accompaniment and a light feel grace most of the music. Jumppanen's right hand playing in some passages is gossamer light, and his pauses in the coda exceedingly long, but not out of character. The Rondo is ever so slightly on the leisurely side, but it is also light and fun. Jumppanen definitely uses the long pause and plays the bars preceding the coda in exaggeratedly slow fashion, but this sonata often benefits from tinkering, and so it is here. Der Sturm opens with, and returns to, suitably slow, slightly melancholy arpeggios, and alternates with faster passages of high enough energy, but only a few passages really find Jumppanen hammering on the keys. A fair portion of the playing is lighter, more ''classical'', if you will. The Adagio's overall tempo is just about right, and within that, Jumppanen allows himself to play some passages very slowly and to deploy the pregnant pause liberally, and to play with more than a modicum of tonal beauty. The Allegretto is played fast and furious, with ample weight and power, though clarity suffers a bit, though it sounds purposive. It makes for a fine closer. 31/3 opens with a generally quick and and energetic and lively Allegro, with Jumppanen cavalierly dashing off trills to superb effect, and tossing in one bit of extra-heavy duty left hand playing during a crescendo. Most satisfying. Jumppanen plays the Scherzo with great energy, and pounces on the loud outbursts that pepper the movement. The Menuetto offers a smooth, lovely, slightly leisurely rest before Jumppanen ends the work by playing the Presto con fuoco in a jittery, nearly comically fast way. He always keeps everything under the strictest control, and always makes it sound easy. Some of the left hand playing is less than perfectly clear, but that matters not whit when the playing is so good. A corker of a performance from quite possibly the the best disc of the cycle.

The second disc contains four short works, and opens with Op 78. Jumppanen plays the Adagio cantabile with a gentle and lovely touch and imbues the Allegro with enough energy and drive, though he keeps it somewhat on the soft side overall. The Allegro vivace on the other hand is more about exuberant energy while maintaining attention to fine dynamic detail. Op 79 opens with a light and fun Presto alla tedesca with subtle an effective rubato mixed in, and a gently comedic acciaccatura. The Andante is generally light with hints of somberness, and then Jumppanen opens the Vivace with a bit of rubato that may or may not be to everyone's taste, but he keeps it fun and jaunty. Op 81a follows, and Jumppanen plays the first movement with a bit of reticence married to perfect execution. The second movement is likewise a bit reticent, but Jumppanen plays in more extroverted, joyful fashion in the last movement, though everything is kept under firm if attractive control. Excellent. The set closes with Op 90. Jumppanen plays the first movement pretty quickly overall, and his right hand playing assumes a sharp, biting tone at times, and the fast passages are played with a (purposely I'm guessing) soft-edged aggression. The second movement is suitable fluid and lyrical and ends a very fine disc. This is perhaps the finest set in the cycle so far.

SOTA sound.

Twofer five. The final volume of Jumppanen's cycle opens with Op 7. Jumppanen cruises merrily along in the Allegro molto e con brio, all sprung and controlled rhythm married to hefty crescendi and subtle dynamic shading. The only notable quirk or semi-quirk might be his occasional sustained chord. The Largo starts off slow, yet sounds lively, and finds Jumppanen deploying slightly extended pauses and minor embellishments. About half way in, he slows down a bit more, extends pauses a bit more, and plays chains of notes and chords with exaggerated emphasis. It's both reasonably effective and undeniably affected. The Allegro is livelier, as one would hope, but Jumppanen adds more pronounced embellishments and continues his use of slightly extended pauses to less beneficial effect in the outer sections, and he keeps the middle section fast and under tightly coiled control. The Rondo has some particularly pronounced embellishment early, but when Jumppanen opts to play it straight, the music flows along beautifully. The potentially excessive interventionism rather detracts from the work as a whole, but some or many people may like it.

Op 13 follows. Jumppanen thunders out the opening chord of the Grave, keeps the pace stately and the playing possessed of dynamic forcefulness, backs way off in the transition to the Allegro, and then plays the Allegro at a steady but somewhat reserved pace. He builds up tension and speed a bit, then kind of ruins the effect for a moment when he interjects a blurred embellishment, before returning to more standard and more satisfying playing. The Adagio cantabile is pretty much conventional, without much in the way of heavy interventionism, nor much in the way of excess beauty or emotion. Jumppanen keeps his best playing for the last movement. His overall tempo is just about perfect. He refrains from embellishment. His dynamics are spot-on. He imbues the playing with a sense of intensity and drama that sounds just right. While clearly cut from the same musical cloth as the rest of the playing, it just jells better. Would that the whole was this good.

The second disc of the set and final disc of the cycle contains the last three sonatas in opus number order. Jumppanen plays the opening movement of 109 at a conventional pace and does a fine job of establishing a satisfying sense of late-LvB transcendence. His independence of hands is superb, with finely detailed left-hand playing. He makes sure to hold a couple chords longer than normal, and he slows down in the latter passages, allowing the listener to savor each note and phrase. The Prestissimo is perfectly paced and perfectly controlled, with nothing rushed or strained or sluggish. The clarity of voices is most impressive, and the broad but not overdone dynamic range is perfectly controlled at all times. Jumppanen opens the final movement with a lovely, transcendent, lyrical Andante theme that achieves near Op 111 Arietta levels of goodness, especially as he slows down slightly near the end of the theme. He seems to slow down further at the opening of the first variation, which is simply beautiful. The second variation evokes the "little stars" of 111, the vigorous third is dashed off with a disarming effortlessness, and then Jumppanen moves back to transcendent playing for the fourth variation. The fifth is bold and potent yet also decidedly late-LvB-y, and then Jumppanen returns to quieter sublimity before building up to a powerful climax and then trailing off to a quiet end, with some phenomenally effective right-hand playing of no little precision and control. The cumulative effect is wonderful. This is a great Op 109.

Op 110 continues on in a similar vein. Moderato cantabile molto espressivo as description comes to musical life under Jumppanen's fingers, which makes the keyboard sing sublimely. Even when playing the loudest passages, the playing retains a sheen of beauty, of almost hammerlessness, if you will. (This trait, which Jumppanen has displayed before, makes me think he can play some high-grade Debussy.) Jumppanen plays the Allegro molto at another perfectly judged overall tempo, brings out the dynamic contrasts wonderfully, and plays the ending arpeggio rather gently. The final movement opens with a somewhat formal and almost gruff recitative - gruff in the context of the playing to this point - before transitioning to a morosely beautiful arioso. The transition from arioso to fugue is a bit abrupt, or at least it doesn't seem to flow flawlessly, rendering a somewhat episodic feel. This is observation, not criticism. The fugue is clear, characterized by superb independence of hands once again, and has some beefy, thundering, growling bass in a few spots. The second arioso, with a transition underpinned by notably hefty left hand playing, is a darker reprise of the opening material. The repeated chords are built up to a thundering, slightly extended climax, and these chords are themselves preceded by slightly exaggerated chords. The inverted fugue is masterfully played, and immediately establishes a lighter feeling, equivalent in feeling, though much extended in form, to the arrival in Elysium at the end of Op 111. Another great late sonata.

Jumppanen plays the Maestoso of Op 111 with potent bass, though the sforzandi are not edgy, and he sort of rushes any pauses between notes, to excellent effect. He then plays the Allegro is generally fast, energetic, and vigorous fashion, with beefy left hand playing, with everything under control at all times. Maybe, maybe it could use a bit more bite. Or not. The Arietta starts off serene and elevated, with unusually rich left hand chords. The second half pulls off the suspension of time trick nicely. Jumppanen proceeds to play the first variation in a sublime and simple fashion. It's most effective. The second variation infuses a bit of urgency into the mix, and the third rollicks while remaining sublime. Moving on, Jumppanen plays with a sort of steady, rocking left hand from time to time, and plays the "little stars" with a detached, ethereal coolness. He moves the playing into the more transcendent realm thereafter, playing with blurred legato before the first chain of trills, which are expertly delivered. The second chain of trills serves as a subdued accompaniment for the beautiful glimpse if Elysium which Jumppanen eventually arrives at, and his steadiness, and at times feathery lightness of touch (though not quite all the way to Yamane levels of lightness) bring the work to a practically perfect close. A third great late sonata performance.

Now that the cycle is complete, I have to (well, I don't have to) determine where to shoehorn it in to my personal tiering system. At its best – the critical Op 31 sonatas and the last three sonatas – everything works splendidly, and Jumppanen proves to be a modern day Beethoven player of no mean quality. However, his tendency to embellish earlier sonatas as much as he does, almost all of which I'm not fond of, and the occasional interpretive devices here and there that I don't like, means that I can't really put him in second tier, because of relative lack of consistency. So third tier it is, but, rather like Stephen Kovacevich, the peaks are extremely high indeed. His best performances are great and can be compared to the greats. I've already procured my tickets to two of his recitals next spring where he will be playing four Beethoven sonatas and both books of Debussy's Preludes. Spring cannot get here soon enough.

SOTA sound.




Amazon UK Vol 1

Amazon UK Vol 2

Amazon UK Vol 3

Amazon UK Vol 4 (Wrong image on Amazon)

Amazon UK Vol 5