Wilhelm Backhaus Plays Beethoven

Posted by: Todd A on 13 August 2005

To my mind the biggest hole in my Beethoven sonata collection has been the absence of Wilhelm Backhaus. I’ve had a solitary disc of his stereo cycle for a while, and the recordings on that disc all compare very favorably to anyone. Indeed, until hearing Friedrich Gulda’s monumental Amadeo recording of the Tempest sonata, I more or less found Backhaus the best in that sonata. Clearly I had to hear what the old German master had to say, as it were, in this most august solo piano repertoire. Determined to hear his take on the 32, I then had to decide which of the two cycles, the mono cycle or the stereo cycle. Since Backhaus was already in his late 60s by the time of his mono set, I figured I should go for that one. While he certainly displays a more than adequate technique in the stereo disc I own, I figured he’d be closer to his prime in the mono recordings. So I found it and bought it and have started listening to it.

Getting things underway with the first sonata finds a curious recording. Backhaus is somewhat slow to start, and is extremely serious, with little in the way of charm. Gradually he picks up the pace, but he never shakes a slightly mannered, unsmiling sound. The Adagio is deliberate, but now a bit of feeling is infused into the playing, bringing it to life. Backhaus varies dynamics and color nicely, though he never adopts extremes, and he never sounds especially beautiful. The third movement is even more varied and buoyant and almost irresistible. The final movement starts as the first one did – a bit slow and mannered; it sounds consciously carved and not freely flowing. It’s never heavy, never ponderous, but never really nice and fiery. Yet I thoroughly enjoyed the recording.

The second sonata opens in a more jovial mood, though it’s still not free. It sounds very deliberately planned and played. The Largo is relatively fast and shows a greater degree of flexibility, but only within a well-defined range, and it displays a fine tone. All of this combines to create an insistent, march-like sound. The Scherzo is light and fast, articulate and infectious. One just sits spellbound by the playing. The concluding movement is light and varied, but it maintains an underlying seriousness. Backhaus may be smiling, but it’s a forced smile.

As I started the third sonata I thought I had Backhaus pegged: he’s deadly serious – much like Gulda – and plays within a defined, limited range, but plays as well as can be. But then he throws a curve ball. The work opens in more or less standard fashion, but then Backhaus just tears into the work, spinning off notes in a dazzling, dizzying way, just to slow way down for a bit to highlight a passage, and then returning to a high-speed, high-impact style. He plays almost recklessly fast at times. His rubato, his whole style betrays his heritage; he was born in the 1880s, after all. Why should he just stick to a specific approach? Anyway, the Adagio is generally quite fast, and is filled with subtle coloring and rubato to bring it to life. It’s not the most moving reading I’ve heard, but it is very effective. The Scherzo continues the quick playing that Backhaus adopts through the work, but despite the speed, or perhaps because of it, everything just flows together beautifully. So of course it should not be surprising to learn that the final movement is fast, but Backhaus keeps it all under control.

Okay, so now I had him pegged, I thought: he’s serious and allows himself generous leeway in tempi, though he tends to play fast. The Op 7 sonata had other things in store. The opening movement is actually played relatively slow, and while I like that, I also prefer a more relaxed sound, which this does not have. Yet I like it. A lot. Backhaus basically allows himself the flexibility to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. His playing takes on an almost erratic feel. The Largo just reinforces this. It is a bit stiff throughout and a bit graceless in spots, and Backhaus’ tone varies a lot, too. For a while it’s lean and stripped down, then it’s richer and softer, then bright and hard. These changes can last for mere seconds or for entire passages. It all depends. The Allegro continues along this unpredictable path by being extremely well-paced and quite lovely in parts. The final movement is something of a marvel. Backhaus starts off fast and plays most of the work quickly, but he’ll slow down to savor a beautiful passage when he deems it appropriate. But he’s a bit inconsistent. You think you know when he’ll do it, but he doesn’t. After repeated listens (which I’m absolutely confident this work will get) I’ll know what to expect, but the first run through is filled with surprises.

The first of the Op 10 sonatas displays Backhaus’ traits well. The opening movement is just a tad on the slow, rich side – he certainly doesn’t rush the opener like his contemporary Schnabel – yet it all works splendidly. The piece moves along with an irresistible flow that just sounds right. The Adagio is beautiful and moving, yet even here he can’t seem to leave well enough alone. He cuts some chords short, seemingly for no reason, slightly dampening the overall effect. But fortunately not much. The final movement opens very slowly then builds up speed, and then alternates tempi through to the end. Backhaus’ delivery is different than anyone else I’ve heard, yet it all works so well I can’t offer a single serious complaint.

The second sonata again begins slowly – I think I detect a pattern – but then, out of the blue, Backhaus speeds up not a little, but a lot. He repeats this pattern a few times, and each time it sounds a bit frazzled though always under control. The second movement is quick, articulate, and possesses a serious, contemplative sound. The third movement, shorn of its repeat, sounds amazingly light and carefree. All these disjointed elements work to create a slightly off-kilter feel, but one that jells and works exceedingly well.

The final sonata of the group offers playing that almost turns the work into a miniature drama. The first movement sounds natural. Nothing is rushed, nothing is out of place; everything is free and flexible and sounds very attractive. The second movement starts in a flowing, attractive, yet serious manner, only to be transformed by some urgent, unsettled playing, changing the whole mood. Why? One wonders, but as Backhaus reverts to a more conventional take, it just seems to make sense, even though it cannot be properly described. The third movement is more upbeat and vital, though even it has some unique moments. The final movement opens with some surprisingly tender playing, then moves to a free, open sound, but then it, too, shifts again, to a more serious, contemplative sound, before shifting yet again. What is Backhaus getting at? I for one must listen again to try to figure it out. It is a remarkable recording.

So now comes the Pathetique. I figured Backhaus would go for fast, vital, and pointed approach. Nope. The piece actually opens softly, with some weaker than expected chords and slower than expected runs. But an anticipatory, subdued nervous feeling makes itself known and persists. Backhaus slowly and carefully builds up tension, but he never releases it, rather choosing to let it abate but never disappear. The cumulative effect is engrossing. One waits to hear what happens next. The second movement never really goes to slow or too deep, but rather focuses on maintaining that subdued and unreleased tension. The finale offers more of the same, and Backhaus just never lets loose like he obviously can. It’s a bit maddening, really, and Backhaus is obviously playing it a bit safe, a bit comfortable. But for the life of me, it works! Indeed, I can think of few recordings I like a lot more.

I came upon the Op 14 sonatas ready for glossed over recordings acting as a bridge to the bigger works to come. Backhaus style seems better suited to bigger, more serious works. Or so I thought. These recordings are quite possibly the greatest I’ve heard of these two works. The first sonata opens familiarly: it’s just a smidgeon slower than I usually prefer, but then turns fast, then slow, then fast again, then slow again, all seamlessly and effortlessly. It’s relaxed. It’s cheery. It’s spiffy. The second movement is just about perfect: it’s perfectly paced with perfect dynamics and perfect tone. It’s light and refreshing and amazing. The final movement is, well, it’s friggin’ perfect. Marvelous, articulate fingerwork and perfect weight (not too much) combined with a free and flexible style out of a past age all combine to make it perfect. The second sonata isn’t quite played to the same level of perfection, but it’s close. The slightly cutting sound cannot mask the marvelously light and flexible playing of the first movement. Despite a bit of brittleness, the second movement is just peachy: light, charming, and tender, it captivates with each wonderful note. To finish off the work is a plucky ‘n’ ducky and effortless final movement, with Backhaus deploying his rubato subtly and discreetly and most effectively. These two recordings offer some serious fun. Amazing.

Even in the first ten sonatas it is clear that this is Beethoven playing on an altogether higher level than most pianists ever achieve. When I consider the two excellent cycles I just finished, Lucchesini and Lipkin, they merely serve to underscore just how good Backhaus is. I said of Lipkin that even when I disagree with his choices, he still makes the piece work. With Backhaus, while some playing here and there may not sound “ideal” at first, he makes me realize that he is right and I a knave for even questioning his judgment. His Beethoven sounds right and sounds, as much as I dislike this description, natural. This is how Beethoven should sound. Finally, Friedrich Gulda has been matched. Maybe even Annie. I must hear more to know for sure.

Some quick words on sound. The recordings show their age. Some distortion and breakup can be heard in places, and some upper register notes have an unpleasant ring to them (it’s definitely the recording and not the playing), but overall the sound is more than acceptable given the age of the recordings.

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Posted on: 15 August 2005 by Todd A
Would Backhaus sound as impressive in the next batch? I wondered. It took almost no time at all to hear the answer: Yes! The Op 22 sonata can be a difficult one to pull off successfully, and there are a number of ways to do it. Backhaus finds his own way. The opening movement is taken at a nice clip, alert and flexible, but not too quick. The second movement is quite marvelous. There’s a relaxed feel about it, but also a sort of less-is-more approach. It seems stripped down, with little in the way of showiness or excess anything. The third movement finds Backhaus really digging in, hammering out the notes with notable strength and force, but he never devolves into mere banging; there is sense of control and ultimate restraint. It’s quite nice. The final movement is tense and not ideally flowing, but, in Backhaus’ conception, caps off yet another fine recording.

The Op 26 sonata opens in glorious fashion. Backhaus’ playing of the Andante theme is the epitome of direct, unaffected Beethoven playing, with everything sounding so right that complaints are frivolous. As the variations begin, the playing changes to a more austere, almost hard sound, but even that works. The Scherzo is driven, and rather charmless, but still, particularly in this work, effective. The funeral march is very solemn and very serious, but it’s not “big” or grand or especially funereal, nor is it effective as a march. Yet the solemnity makes the movement. Backhaus chooses to end this serious, almost dour interpretation with a final movement that is harder and more serious than is usually ideal, but not here.

Time for the first of the Sonatas quasi una fantasia. Would Backhaus be “fantastic” or something else, something sterner? Something sterner is the answer, at least initially. The piece opens in a serious, almost heavy way, hardly creating a fantastic or partially fantastic sound world, yet it sounds appealing. Then Backhaus transitions to an almost blistering fast Allegro section. The return to the initial theme is lighter than before and is quite effective. The second movement starts slowly and quietly and doesn’t really break out until the end; Backhaus almost treats the movement as one long crescendo. The Adagio is slow and somber and if it’s not especially moving, it still sounds fine to me. The final part of the work is taken as a hard, fast gallop, and though it eases up a bit before the end, the coda is also quite fast. Backhaus plays this work in mercurial fashion to say the least, and if it doesn’t quite scale the heights, it’s quite good.

The same can’t be written about the Mondschein sonata. No, this is one of the greatest recordings this work has ever received! The opening movement sounds exactly like it should, exactly like I have always hoped it would. It is dark, somber, with a sense of melancholy, and Backhaus uses the sustain pedal just so, creating the perfect degree of haze and blur. It sets the mood perfectly. Perfectly! The second movement sounds brighter, and more upbeat – at least compared to the opening movement – and Backhaus refrains from too much of anything: speed, volume, expressiveness. It’s all perfectly realized. The third movement is almost perfect. Only some slightly unclear passages and wobbly, insecure playing (as at 1’39” and a few other spots) mar an otherwise ideal realization of the movement. Backhaus’ desynchronized left hand offers a rocking, solid underpinning to the right, and if he never completely lets loose, he plays with enough of all the right elements to make this one to hear again and again.

The Pastorale is not quite as successful. The opening has odd, stilted left hand playing that seems out of place, though Backhaus quickly gains a more solid footing, as it were. Even so, the opening movement never really flows. Between the 2’ and 3’ or so mark, the piece takes on an unusually tense sound, though it reverts back to a more standard conception. The Andante sounds relatively standard in conception, and is delivered extremely well, though even here there are tense, terse moments that seem a bit out of place. The Scherzo, though, is quick and bubbly and eminently enjoyable. The final movement is quick and charming, with Backhaus happily dashing off the notes. To an extent it reminds me of Gieseking’s approach to Beethoven, though the tone and style is still uniquely Backhaus’. Overall, this is a good reading, but it’s not one of the highlights of the cycle.

So now it’s time for the critical Op 31 sonatas. I’ve had his stereo take of the Tempest for a while, and I love that one, so I had very high hopes for that one going in, but what about the others? Well, the first sonata satisfies, that’s for sure. The quick, alert, and generally light playing of the opening more than offsets the occasional opacity and stiffness of the playing. The mood is right, and that’s what matters most. The second movement is playful, with Backhaus injecting unique little touches everywhere. He opens most of the trills at a moderate pace only to speed up to just the right tempo in a smooth, effortless way. Backhaus’ agility and clarity here are really superb, as is amply demonstrated in the remarkably fast middle section. Perhaps some may find it a bit rushed, but damn, it’s fun! The concluding Rondo offers more of the same, and even if it’s not technically the most secure recording I’ve heard, the unyielding forward momentum makes it one of the most enjoyable. So, one winner out of one.

The Tempest makes it two. The work opens in slow, dark, and mysterious fashion, and maintains these qualities pretty much throughout. As a result, this becomes an almost grim reading, with Backhaus opting to not play the dynamic contrasts in a flashy way, but rather in a downtrodden, moody way, making the piece alter between despair and agony. Uplifting it may not be, but it is quite effective. The Adagio is a bit mannered and overly controlled, but in the context of this recording it sounds right. The final movement is sharp, pointed, urgent, and a bit unyielding. Yes, this is a dark conception of the work, and if I still prefer his stereo remake a bit more, this is unquestionably a fine reading.

The final sonata of the trio makes it three! Fast, vital, and a bit rough at times, Backhaus just burns right through the opener. Gruff humor abounds, and it sounds just peachy. The Scherzo keeps up this feeling. Maybe the Menuetto is a bit stiff, but Backhaus uses perfect tempi, a perfect tone, and creates the perfect feeling. The same holds true for the conclusion. Overall, the forward momentum interrupted by basically cheery and rough outbursts evokes just the feeling I like.

So, Backhaus nails the critical three, and otherwise does an admirable or (far) better job on every other sonata in the eight sonatas in this batch. As with the opening group of ten sonatas, everything sounds so right, so natural that I can’t resist. This is indeed Beethoven playing of the highest order.


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Posted on: 16 August 2005 by Todd A
Moving along to the Op 49 sonatas finds Backhaus in fine form, and shows that he can do extremely well in small, less grand fare. The first of the sonatas is just fine: it’s not too heavy, and though Backhaus definitely favors quick tempi, he still displays a nicely variable touch and never ticks over into overbearing intensity. Better is the second sonata. The opening movement is superb, and continues along the same lines as the first sonata. But the reason to hear this recording is unquestionably the second movement. Light ‘n’ tight ‘n’ fun, Backhaus revels in the music and plays with a tender touch. He does better than most – perhaps all – in evoking the wonderful Septet. Superb.

Now it’s time for some weightier fare. Counter to my expectations, Backhaus doesn’t open the Waldstein especially fast. He’s not slow, mind you, he just doesn’t rip through it. He does manage to establish a unique and uniquely appealing brusque yet touching feel to the opener. The second movement comes across as somber, searching, and brooding with only some sharp, biting playing to add variability. It’s not a feel-good sound (and that’s good for me). Given the somewhat hard and dark preceding movements, Backhaus does something nearly magical with the third: he opens in gentle, tender fashion, then builds up the movement with physically strong and emotionally moving playing. Indeed, the whole work seems to build up to the end; any minor reservations I may have had here and there in the first part of the work are washed away by the cumulative power of the recording. I don’t know, the cutting sound may even have helped things out.

For the Op 54 sonata, Backhaus opts for a fast and intense approach, or at least notably more so than many interpreters. The opening movement is largely fast and punchy, though Backhaus does back off in a few spots for some softer playing. The second movement, though, is almost all fast and furious. Sometimes Backhaus threatens to tip over into outright reckless playing, with no regard for accuracy, but he never quite does. It creates an air of excitement. Throw in some greater than normal low register heft, and what one has here is some high intensity middle Beethoven. ‘Tis pretty good.

I admit to liking Backhaus’ stereo Appassionata and assumed I would like this one, too. I do. But not as much. Backhaus opens up with a hard, intense, and metallic sound, though he also sounds a bit short of completely assured. He just wallops out the piece, though even he can’t maintain the highest level of intensity throughout. The piano sound is colorless and cold, and that actually works here. The Andante is well played but a bit cool, and it maintains the same colorless, cold sound. Backhaus turns up the heat in the second half, and things improve a bit, though the very end of the movement ends a bit strangely. It seems more contained than a lead in to the final movement. The final movement is intense throughout, though the lack of the repeat detracts from the success of the work, as is invariably the case. So, while this is an intense reading, there is quite a bit missing, and while still good, I still prefer the stereo remake as well as a number of others.

Now it’s time for a trio of sonatas where Backhaus is among the very best interpreters, and perhaps even the best. The Op 78 and 79 and Les Adieux from his stereo set have ranked among my very favorites since I first heard them, so I had very high expectations here. They were more than met. Backhaus has the Op 78 down cold. Everything about it is perfect: it’s perfectly weighted (not too heavy or ponderous) and perfectly paced (fast, but not too fast), with a perfectly variable touch and discreet rubato and pedaling. It’s simultaneously light and serious. The same can pretty much be said about the Op 79 sonata. Backhaus opens in ideal fashion – fast, strong, and articulate but never cutting. The forward momentum he generates means that Backhaus may burn through the humorous off-key portion near the end, but any complaints are so minor as to be piffle. The second movement is surprisingly somber and weighty and attractive, serving to add heft to the piece. ‘Tis sublime. And in the final movement, Backhaus again pulls off the trick of being simultaneously serious and light. He is amazing in these works.

Ditto the 81a. The work opens in a nicely disconsolate, contemplative fashion. To heighten this effect, Backhaus chooses to hold back on the first crescendo – he doesn’t want to give away anything too early. The restraint adds a nice bittersweet feel to the movement. The second movement starts off in a sad, ruminative, and surprisingly aloof and cold way. The end of the movement builds up with expectation for the friend’s return, and when it happens, the third movement is exultant and thrilling, with more of Backhaus’ fast and strong playing and what sounds to be genuine happiness. He knocks this one out of the park.

Another eight sonatas down, and, if anything, my opinion of Mr Backhaus has only improved. What will the late sonatas bring?


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Posted on: 17 August 2005 by Todd A
Time for the late sonatas. Surely, given the quality of the cycle thus far, Backhaus should be irreproachable in the late works. It ain’t so. That doesn’t seem evident with the Op 90 sonata, though. This one shows those Backhaus traits that so often inform the earlier sonatas: he prefers swift tempi overall; he plays in a less than ideally lyrical way; he plays with fine articulation and strength; he makes the music exciting. Yep, that’s some good stuff. The second movement does sound more lyrical and offers a more variegated color palette, though even here Backhaus brings some incisive playing in a few places where many don’t. While not one of my top choices, this is excellent.

The same holds true for the Op 101 sonata. The opening is again fast and a bit ungraceful. It doesn’t really stir one’s soul or imagination, though; it’s not especially “deep.” The second movement continues in the very good but not ideal vein with a nice if clunky march. The third movement, though, shows the first hints of what plagues some of the later sonatas – there is an ascetic, stripped down, rather cold feeling to the music making. It’s neither intellectually or emotionally enriching enough; Backhaus gives the impression of merely spinning notes at times. The work improves with a quick, peculiarly upbeat final movement possessing the energy of some earlier sonatas, the slow coda notwithstanding. This is a good rendition of the work, but there’s something missing.

That isn’t as much a problem with the Hammerklavier. I came to this recording with extremely high expectations. I’ve read and heard praise for this, with claims that it is among the best recordings of this work – perhaps even the best. I can’t say that I’m that enthusiastic about it. The problem comes in the first two movements. Backhaus takes tempi slower than I tend to favor. (He don’t use no whipcrack, Gulda-like approach.) And while he’s not a slouch technically, he lacks the ideal degree of mastery of the piece. He’s certainly no Pollini. But even ignoring other pianists – something essentially impossible to do – it seems too stiff and contrived at times. Yes, he does imbue the movements with some genuine excitement at times, and he speeds up appreciably in some sections, but it’s not quite what I’d hoped for. The Adagio, on the other hand, is quite simply one of the greatest I’ve heard. Even I’ll admit that this movement can sound a bit too long in some recordings, but Backhaus nearly suspends time and plays with a desolate and searching feeling and creates a sense of inevitability, if you will; everything that he plays can sound that way and only that way. It is amazing. Scarcely less impressive is the finale. The Largo is nice if perhaps a bit impatient – Backhaus evidently wants at that fugue. When he gets there he delivers. It is relentlessly driven and possessed of a, well, possessed intensity and seriousness that not even patches of less than perfect clarity can mar. Yessir, this here’s a good final movement. But, as with all of Ludwig van’s sonatas, one must consider the whole, and there Backhaus does fall short of the very best.

The real problems with the late sonatas are to be found in the last three. The Op 109 encompasses most of what is wrong with them. He plays too quickly and the work sounds downright disjointed at times. His phrasing can be odd. At times he plays with seeming disdain for what’s written. Very little if anything can be called beautiful. (In this work, only the first variation in the final movement falls into that category.) There is not much if anything that can be called transcendent or spiritual or philosophical here. In the Op 110 a feeling that Backhaus just doesn’t connect with the piece enters into the picture. In the last sonata he adds a glossed over feeling. Everything is basically too fast and not strongly characterized; the opening never sounds ominous or especially dark, the Arietta is ascetic and almost unpleasant. Yet. Yet these sonatas aren’t disasters. There’s no doubt that they aren’t top contenders, but they do work as dismissive, almost disdainful alternative approaches. I just can’t see myself spinning them too often.

Even with the relatively disappointing late sonatas – especially the last three – Backhaus’ mono cycle must be considered one of the greats. So much of what he does sounds so right that it’s hard to find serious fault with his playing. Gripes are mostly minor; praise is largely unnecessary. This is a monumental cycle and one that wish I would have heard earlier. Better late than never, I guess.


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Posted on: 18 August 2005 by graham55
Todd

Thanks for your usual very thorough review.

I have Backhaus's later stereo cycle, although the Hammerklavier is a mono recording (the only one) from 1952. (Is that the same recording as you have?) I assume that Backhaus was saving his re-recording of it till last, but died before he could complete it. (Shades of Gilels, one of the great cycles that might have been.)

Incidentally, I can't find the Backhaus mono set for sale anywhere, although I'm very happy with the set that I have (which can be had from amazon.de for €60 or so.)

Graham
Posted on: 18 August 2005 by Todd A
The same Hammerklavier recording is used in both cycles. HMV Japan and Stradivarius both carry the mono box.