Nelson Freire Plays Beethoven
Posted by: Todd A on 04 June 2007
Why buy only one new LvB sonata disc when you can buy two? When I snapped up the latest Schiff offering, I also picked up the new Decca recording of Nelson Freire playing four sonatas, including the Mondschein, so I could do a direct comparison between the two pianists. The Schiff disc was a disappointment, but surely Freire would do better I thought. He does, sort of, but with caveats.
The disc opens with the Waldstein, and some of my misgivings show up here. The opening Allegro con brio is taken at blazing speed, and Freire plays with immense flexibility, precision, and dynamic gradations. He hits all the marks that Richard Goode misses in a similarly fast take. There’s more than enough brio, and one detects either a whiff of nonchalance or a very well crafted imitation thereof. Richness and texture are both lacking, but it seems a fair trade-off. The Introduzione is where the first hints of problems arise. The playing is clear and lucid and even feels a bit impatient – which isn’t a bad thing – but it also sounds a bit too detached. The Rondo opens similarly coolly, though the nuances Freire brings out in the upper registers makes up for that. The long transitional trill is well done, but the music that is supposed to swell around it seems a bit restrained. But then, look out: it’s back to blazing fast playing. There is something refreshing about hearing a pianist cruise along so easily and make such a virtuosic meal of the work, but the downside is that it’s not as emotionally engaging as I ultimately prefer.
The next work is the Les Adieux, and here the same basic traits hold true. The opening Adagio is superbly played, but sounds too cool. One hears resignation rather than sadness. That’s fine in itself, but it doesn’t grip this listener. The Allegro portion of the first movement is freer and more flexible in terms of fingerwork, but it’s even less engaging. The Andante espressivo is beautiful on the surface, but again is just too cool. It should come as no surprise that the Vivacissimamente is much the same, though here Freire turns the piece into a dazzling virtuoso display, with notes dispatched with lightening speed and swelling dynamics. As an emotionally engaging performance it falls flat, but as a display of pianistic prowess it thrills.
Fortunately things pick up with Op 110. The opening Moderato cantabile, molto espressivo is taken at a relatively quick speed, but what stands out is the gossamer light playing, which creates a wonderful, suitably ethereal atmosphere. A few times things might sound rushed, but then again maybe not. The Allegro molto sounds fast but never rushed, exhibits superb dynamic contrasts, and has a somewhat, well, “youthful” feel to it. The Adagio ma non troppo, though, is where it’s at. As it opens, it sounds unmoored, moody, desolate, and lovely. The fugue is slow, precise, and pristine to open and Freire remains in absolute control throughout, imparting admirable clarity. The return of the slow music has a more resigned feel to it that just feels right, and the chord build up to the inverted fugue in wonderfully terraced and controlled. The inverted fugue sounds much like the original fugue, though now there’s even more late-LvB goodness. The coda is fast and strong and caps off a very fine reading.
The disc closes with the Mondschein, which I was hoping would be better than Schiff’s. It’s not. The Adagio sostenuto finds Freire returning to his cool ways. There’s little haze or solemnity or darkness. The Allegretto sounds better, with a supremely well-judged overall tempo and some lively playing. The Presto agitato, not at all surprisingly, is agile and fast, though it lacks intensity. Perhaps even more than Schiff, this ends up being a surface reading, though it’s less fussy. It’s not a world-beater, that’s for sure.
Nelson Freire’s recent recordings for Decca have all been excellent, so I’m somewhat disappointed with this disc. It never catches fire for me. Yes, Freire displays a technique that ranks him among the best in that regard in these works, but I want more than that. Not helping matters is a somewhat boomy, cloudy acoustic that hampers detail. A missed opportunity it seems.
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The disc opens with the Waldstein, and some of my misgivings show up here. The opening Allegro con brio is taken at blazing speed, and Freire plays with immense flexibility, precision, and dynamic gradations. He hits all the marks that Richard Goode misses in a similarly fast take. There’s more than enough brio, and one detects either a whiff of nonchalance or a very well crafted imitation thereof. Richness and texture are both lacking, but it seems a fair trade-off. The Introduzione is where the first hints of problems arise. The playing is clear and lucid and even feels a bit impatient – which isn’t a bad thing – but it also sounds a bit too detached. The Rondo opens similarly coolly, though the nuances Freire brings out in the upper registers makes up for that. The long transitional trill is well done, but the music that is supposed to swell around it seems a bit restrained. But then, look out: it’s back to blazing fast playing. There is something refreshing about hearing a pianist cruise along so easily and make such a virtuosic meal of the work, but the downside is that it’s not as emotionally engaging as I ultimately prefer.
The next work is the Les Adieux, and here the same basic traits hold true. The opening Adagio is superbly played, but sounds too cool. One hears resignation rather than sadness. That’s fine in itself, but it doesn’t grip this listener. The Allegro portion of the first movement is freer and more flexible in terms of fingerwork, but it’s even less engaging. The Andante espressivo is beautiful on the surface, but again is just too cool. It should come as no surprise that the Vivacissimamente is much the same, though here Freire turns the piece into a dazzling virtuoso display, with notes dispatched with lightening speed and swelling dynamics. As an emotionally engaging performance it falls flat, but as a display of pianistic prowess it thrills.
Fortunately things pick up with Op 110. The opening Moderato cantabile, molto espressivo is taken at a relatively quick speed, but what stands out is the gossamer light playing, which creates a wonderful, suitably ethereal atmosphere. A few times things might sound rushed, but then again maybe not. The Allegro molto sounds fast but never rushed, exhibits superb dynamic contrasts, and has a somewhat, well, “youthful” feel to it. The Adagio ma non troppo, though, is where it’s at. As it opens, it sounds unmoored, moody, desolate, and lovely. The fugue is slow, precise, and pristine to open and Freire remains in absolute control throughout, imparting admirable clarity. The return of the slow music has a more resigned feel to it that just feels right, and the chord build up to the inverted fugue in wonderfully terraced and controlled. The inverted fugue sounds much like the original fugue, though now there’s even more late-LvB goodness. The coda is fast and strong and caps off a very fine reading.
The disc closes with the Mondschein, which I was hoping would be better than Schiff’s. It’s not. The Adagio sostenuto finds Freire returning to his cool ways. There’s little haze or solemnity or darkness. The Allegretto sounds better, with a supremely well-judged overall tempo and some lively playing. The Presto agitato, not at all surprisingly, is agile and fast, though it lacks intensity. Perhaps even more than Schiff, this ends up being a surface reading, though it’s less fussy. It’s not a world-beater, that’s for sure.
Nelson Freire’s recent recordings for Decca have all been excellent, so I’m somewhat disappointed with this disc. It never catches fire for me. Yes, Freire displays a technique that ranks him among the best in that regard in these works, but I want more than that. Not helping matters is a somewhat boomy, cloudy acoustic that hampers detail. A missed opportunity it seems.
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