Daniel Barenboim Plays Beethoven

Posted by: Todd A on 30 January 2006

A (still relatively) new year means its time to start hearing new complete cycles of Beethoven’s sonatas. There are still a number of complete cycles I’m very interested in hearing, and among that group Daniel Barenboim’s EMI cycle got the nod first. Most comments and reviews I’ve read indicate that the EMI cycle is better than the DG cycle, though I’ve read one or two comments stating the opposite. I decided to go with the majority outlook for the time being. Barenboim’s artistry from the period is hardly new to me; I own and rather enjoy his Mozart Piano Concerto cycle on EMI, and his Bartok First and Third Concertos with Boulez are both good, so I know he had (and has) the ability to play the music. How would he sound?

There’s no better way to find out than by starting with the Op 2 sonatas. Things start off in a most promising fashion. The first sonata opens with an Allegro played in clear, articulate fashion, with markedly clear left and right hand playing and nice dynamic variation. It’s a straightforward approach. No muss, no fuss, no frills. Things continue to sound good in the Adagio, which, though quite slow, benefits from Barenboim’s wonderfully characterful soft playing and tonal variety. It’s neither overthought nor overwrought, and moves along with a touch of grace, and maybe even tenderness. So far, so good. But then the Menuetto comes along and it’s too slow and thick. It still sounds good, at least at times, but it sounds a bit too heavy at times and a bit too obviously underscored at others. The concluding Prestissimo is more satisfying, though it, too, is slower than I prefer. Barenboim plays with a wide dynamic range, but his tone becomes a bit hard, brittle, and congested at times, though this problem may be at least partly attributable to the recording and remastering. Overall, the cycle begins in acceptable to good, but hardly great fashion.

That’s how it progresses in the second sonata. The opening movement sounds clear and direct, but I’m not sure the Allegro vivace indication sounds quite vivacious enough. It’s a bit too deliberate. At least the middle section displays some strong, appealing playing. The Largo is taken very slowly, which is fine, and ends up sounding oddly march-like at times. Barenboim’s left hand playing is unimpeachably solid and distinct – a trait that shows up time and again – and offers an appealing foundation for the right hand play over. As the movement progresses, Barenboim really delivers some delectable soft playing, making the walloping fortissimo at around 5’15” a bit startling. It’s a nice effect, if perhaps a bit contrived. The Scherzo proceeds at a pleasant and comfortable pace, and sounds like a lighthearted aural oasis in an otherwise serious take on the piece. Once again, Barenboim offers nicely pointed and left hand playing as a musical foundation. The concluding Rondo grazioso, while maintaining what can best be called a comfortable overall tempo, sounds, well, gracious and charming, though Barenboim plays the louder passages with enough oomph to add variety.

The opening trio concludes with another somewhat variable performance. The Allegro con brio that opens the work sounds light and energetic enough to make it fun, and then Barenboim follows this up with some vigorous, strong playing that always sounds under complete control. At about 5’25”, Barenboim plays the cascading notes with admirable clarity and restrained speed – he sees no need to rush for the sake of rushing – which makes for a nice effect. The Adagio, though, is too slow. It doesn’t flow, sounding rather blocky at times. Enough tonal and dynamic variation are on offer as partial recompense, but they don’t fully salvage the movement. The Scherzo finds Barenboim playing very fast at the start and conclusion, though a bit of stiffness seems to creep in. The middle section sounds more flowing, though. The concluding Allegro assai starts with some wonderful soaring, shimmering playing, with unique and appealing accents and phrasing to tickle one’s ears. The middle section sounds rather graceful, offering a brief rest before Barenboim brings back the opening material in notably stronger, more forceful fashion. All three of the Op 2 sonatas thus sound good in parts and less good in others parts; they’re variable and perhaps a bit too heavy and serious at times. Is this okay-to-good opening trio a harbinger of things to come? I wondered.

The immediate answer ended up being: No! The Op 7 sonata is decidedly better. Here, I enjoy a slower, more pastoral approach, and Barenboim plays it that way for the most part. The Allegro molto e con brio opens at a reasonably brisk clip, with some especially appealing soft playing that’s filled with color and nuance and subtle rubato. Louder (and usually faster) playing assumes a slightly hard sound at times, but that doesn’t distract from an occasionally quiet and flowing, occasionally loud and powerful, and always satisfying opener. Hell, Barenboim even throws in some rhythmic zip to spice things up. The Largo, predictably, is decidedly slow, and, also predictably, sounds a bit blocky as a result; some segments seem to stand apart from the music preceding and succeeding them. A few contrived fortissimo passages also show up here and there, but overall the movement still sound pretty good. The Allegro, though, sounds so good as to elicit nothing but praise. The slightly relaxed overall tempo just aids matters, for Barenboim’s fluid and graceful delivery sound beautiful. He adds kick where needed, and the middle section finds him delivering some low-end rumble to the mix, though it does sound somewhat matter of fact (as opposed to purposely fearsome, for instance). The concluding Rondo also has a broad tempo, and sounds enjoyably lyrical, though it’s also a bit matter of fact. The middle section is nicely vigorous and biting, though the ending section, while returning to a largely lyrical sound, has some contrived sounding sharp playing thrown in. I’m splitting hairs here, of course; this is a fine recording of this work, though truth be told, I don’t think I can count it among my favorites.

Given Barenboim’s penchant for broad tempi, I came to the first of the Op 10 sonatas expecting to be a bit bored. I very much enjoy this work to open with a bang, as it were, and Barenboim just doesn’t seem to be that kind of Beethoven player. Imagine my relief when I heard a reasonably swift, strong open. Sure, he’s no Claude Frank or Maurizio Pollini, but the opening works. After the opening salvo, Barenboim backs off and plays with a nicely variable touch, as is his wont. He then alternates the two styles deftly. His left hand playing, while notably prominent and pointed, ends up be almost too much of a good thing in that it sounds almost too serious, and it also lacks that Gulda-ian grooviness that I wish would accompany it. But this is Barenboim, not Gulda, so I gots to take what I can get. The Adagio is very slow – another pattern that seems to be emerging – with Barenboim once again taking his time to lavish attention on each note, extracting a nice tonal palette. He throws in some dynamic variation, too, and even though it definitely sounds contrived at times, it’s still attractive. I suppose one might complain that the Adagio ends up encroaching on Largo territory at times, but overall that matters little; the movement sounds fine. The concluding Prestissimo opens and stays a bit too slow for that indication, but Barenboim has some appealing tricks up his sleeve. He begins the first ascending passage with a light shimmer and gradually builds up to a powerful climax, to wonderful effect. Yes, it’s calculated, but the calculations are correct!

The second Op 10 sonata ends up sounding somewhat like the first in overall tenor. The Allegro opener – it’s a bit slow. The tonal and dynamic variations – they’re expertly realized. The overall effect – it’s a bit contrived. An example – the usually clear and pointed left hand playing here becomes somewhat muddled via hazy legato, though a few points are very clearly and powerfully punctuated. The Allegretto second movement offers more of Barenboim’s finely spun slow playing. Fortunately, Barenboim does see fit to play the (repeatless) Presto closer in vibrant, quick, light and thoroughly rousing fashion.

The last of the Op 10 sonatas offers pretty much the same mix of strengths and weaknesses (or lesser strengths, if you prefer) as before. The Presto opens fast ’n’ strong, though without truly satisfying rhythmic drive, and then Barenboim backs off a bit to offer his usual assortment of pianistic finery. The Largo, as one would expect, is slow, slow, slow, to the point where is doesn’t quite flow, especially near the beginning. Barenboim stretches the music to its limits, nearly breaking the musical line – though he doesn’t end up hampering it to the same extent as Kuerti, to name another slow poke – and his usual variable playing ends up sounding, yes, a bit contrived. The latter portion of the movement ends up sounding much better for some reason – and foreshadows the late works – but I can’t count the movement as a great success. The Menuetto is again a bit sluggish, though it’s also quite lyrical. Barenboim also once again shows that he can deliver some wonderful effects, as when he plays the right hand trills in a lightly textured, clear, and bright but not brittle fashion. Things end with a Rondo that sounds relatively loose and joyful and energetic. As with the opening trio, parts of the Op 10 sonatas sound wonderful and other parts less so.

So the cycle is off to a decidedly variable start. Barenboim generally favors broad tempi, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Kempff does too. But Barenboim ain’t Kempff. While Barenboim obviously plays well and brings any number of unique touches and effects to the works, many of them sound somewhat superficial and contrived. His playing lacks spontaneity. Completely. (Again, that’s not necessarily bad, but here it isn’t necessarily good.) Partly as a result, the playing seems almost sculpted or played to make a predetermined number of points in each work; each sonata has an etched quality. There’s little freedom to the playing, and the lack of rhythmic brio makes everything seems a bit too serious and reserved. Still, there are enough interesting ideas for me to want to hear what’s coming next. That’s a good sign. I only wish that EMI would have been nice enough to offer the cycle in a newer tranfer, using so-called ART remastering, rather than the mid- to late-80s transfers used for the set. The sound is a bit glassy, hard, and the treble a bit sharp, and minor break-up can be heard here and there. It’s listenable, though.

--
Posted on: 31 January 2006 by David Sutton
Dear Todd,

I bought this set on vinyl back in 1980. It still gets pulled out and played despite having some other versions. However, I will be looking forward to your comments on my favourites.

David
Posted on: 31 January 2006 by Oldnslow
Thanks for your input Todd. I kind of lost track of Barenboim as a pianist once he concentrated on conducting. I do recall with much fondness his Beethoven concerti cycle with Klemperer and his Brahms concerti with, I think, Barbarolli from the 60's. I learned these pieces from those wonderful recordings when they first came out....Oldnslow
Posted on: 31 January 2006 by Tam
Todd,

Thanks for another interesting post, this time the more so since I actually have this cycle (a fairly recent acquisition and only my third, behind 50s kempff and Solomon, so I'm a little way behind you Winker).

I must say, I enjoyed it very much and prefer it to the only other stereo cycle I have extensive experience of (that of Ashkenazy which, while technically accomplished, lacks a certain something). I'm not sure I hold with your comments about the remastering used, it sounds fine to me. That said, I don't think this is Barenboim at his best and is probably not on a par with his Mozart concerto cycle.

Still, I await your coming reviews with interest.

regards, Tam
Posted on: 31 January 2006 by pe-zulu
Barenboims HMV cycle has always been one of my preferred versions of this music. I like his calm, lyrical playing without any tendency to the sensational, traits he shares with my all in all preferred Beethoven-interpreter Kempff.
Posted on: 01 February 2006 by Todd A
Starting back up with the mighty Pathetique finds Barenboim again displaying those traits he displayed in the first seven sonatas. Take the Grave opening: it’s dark and despondent, but it’s somewhat feeble and rather plain. As the movement changes over to the Allegro molto e con brio, Barenboim does indeed play faster, and he brings nice clarity to the music, but it’s rather dull. A few times the sound becomes unduly steely, to boot. The Adagio comes off best in this work, with the slowish tempo sounding just about right, and with Barenboim once again extracting a nicely variable tonal palette. The concluding Rondo, while acceptably swift and well projected, is nondescript and boring. This reading ends up being a generally well executed but ultimately boring one.

The first of the two Op 14 sonatas – little works I admire more upon each hearing – starts off as many of the previous sonatas did: Barenboim adopts a leisurely tempo, and, at least initially, one has low expectations. Those lowered expectations quickly give way to admiration. While it’s true that the basic tempo is on the slow side, the opening Allegro flows smoothly and beautifully to the end. Barenboim takes the time to emphasize a point here or there, and his nicely clear left hand playing is everywhere evident, but what stands out most is that nothing really stands out. It all melds together well. The Allegretto again displays a relaxed, and as a result, lyrical sound, the unpleasant cutting sound of the piano notwithstanding. The slow playing here has something of a cumulative effect; the piece becomes bigger, weightier, meatier than it sometimes is. Whether that’s a good thing or not depends on one’s preferences. The concluding Rondo continues at a leisurely pace, but it also ends up sounding somewhat nondescript. Overall, it’s very good. But not as good as the second. Basically, the concluding Scherzo aside, the whole work assumes the same leisurely ‘n’ lyrical overall approach, with some downright sweet playing in the opening movement and some jaunty ‘n’ punchy playing in the second. To the Scherzo, well, it’s a bit quicker and more cutting, and Barenboim once again plays the bassline with superb clarity and, in part of the movement, with a really spiffy undulating sound. Good stuff.

Like the Op 10 sonatas, especially the first one, I came to the Op 22 with a bit of foreboding. I generally prefer this sonata to be played quick and clean, and Barenboim just isn’t about quick. As with the Op 10/1, any concerns I had were quickly dispelled. More so, in fact. The opening Allegro con brio is taken at a nice, brisk clip, with a pronounced, rolling bassline and plenty of energy and bounce. In the middle section, Barenboim plays quite forcefully but never sounds harsh at all. The Adagio sounds calm and lovely, and almost assumes the air of salon music. I mean that in a good way. Barenboim also sees fit to deploy his pianistic arsenal to bring out some nifty effects. He very meticulously plays the right hand portion evenly and precisely over a left hand of undulating volume, all while maintaining a rock-solid rhythm. Then he slows way down in the middle section to great effect. Can one sense suppressed passion? Perhaps. The Menuetto, while a smidgeon slow and stiff in parts, nonetheless sounds lyrical and graceful. The middle section is fast and fiery, and if it sounds a tad contrived, it still sounds nice. The concluding Rondo somehow manages to maintain the same overall mood while also assuming a light, almost carefree demeanor, with Barenboim reveling in the lovely melody while pushing nothing. Overall, this is the best recording of the set to this point, and one destined to receive numerous airings in these parts.

With three winners in a row, I came to the Op 26 with heightened expectations. While said expectations weren’t dashed, they weren’t exactly fulfilled, either. The opening Andante theme is superb. It’s simply beautiful, the slow tempo just aiding in that. The first variation comes across as perhaps a tad too slow, though it’s still nice. The second variation, though, needs more pep than Barenboim delivers. That sure left hand makes its presence known, and the light and charming sound appeal to one’s ear, but despite the notable build up in speed and energy near the end of the variation, it just doesn’t deliver. And that is how the rest of the variations seem to go: A slowish variation that sounds lovely and satisfying followed by a slowish variation that sounds lovely and less satisfying. The Scherzo, by way of contrast, is fast, propulsive, and forceful, if perhaps just a bit dour. The great funeral march, though, is what makes or breaks this sonata, and Barenboim’s take is unusual. It’s slow and somber, which is certainly acceptable, but the march element is downplayed, and I can’t really say that it’s very heroic, which is most decidedly should be. It sort of comes across as solemn musical granite without any grandeur, if you will. A few stiff and forced passages don’t help, nor do they really hurt. It’s well played, but it just doesn’t do it for me. The Allegro finale is pretty spiffy though, being fast and strong in just about the amounts. So, an unusual take with real strengths and weaknesses.

Moving on to the two sonatas quasi una fantasia finds Barenboim playing some key works. Well, one key work at any rate. I have grown to love the 27/1 so much that I rate it among my favorites of LvB’s sonatas. And there are some superb recordings of this work out there, none more than Andrea Lucchesini’s, whose compelling take has earned more than a few listens in the past several months. Barenboim’s take doesn’t measure up to Lucchesini’s, or to several other superb versions. The culprit is speed. While slow overall tempi can still result in a successful reading, there are times when speed really does help. Indeed, most of the other ingredients for a successful recording are present. Barenboim opens the piece with an exquisitely beautiful Andante, rendered all the more appealing by warm legato and an unpercussive sound. Things continue to sound fine with a powerful Allegro that never sounds hammered out, and the segue back to the opening theme is expertly handled. Where the trouble starts is with the Allegro molto e vivace. It’s way too slow; any hint of vivacious energy simply cannot be detected. The forte chords are ponderous and heavy. Blech! To his credit, Barenboim ends the passage with remarkable power. The Adagio harkens back to the Andante theme, though it’s perceptibly harder and more strident. The concluding Allegro vivace, after a sustained fading transition, is decent in terms if speed and dynamic contrasts, with that left hand again making itself very clearly heard. Unfortunately, Barenboim utilizes some not so subtle rubato in a few places and sort of italicizes some passages. So, while it’s not a disaster or especially bad (it’s much better than Rudolf Serkin’s attempt, for instance), this hardly compares with the best out there. Bummer.

The Mondschein is less important for me, but I’m always up for hearing a nifty version. Again, Barenboim offers a mixed bag. The opening movement, while slow and somber, ends up sounding rather dull. The sustain pedal doesn’t seem to be used enough, and the playing has an even, uncontrasty sound to it. The middle movement is well played, but also has muted contrasts and sounds bland. (It also sounds as though it was recorded on a different day, in a different studio, with a different engineer, and with a different piano.) The final movement, though, is superb. Barenboim plays fast and strong, with clear, precise articulation, clean and clear and prominent bass, and unyielding forward momentum. Had only the rest of the recording been up to this level, this recording could have been something special.

The great Pastorale was up next, and Barenboim’s playing up to this point seemed to have all the ingredients to make for a great recording. That almost happens. The opening Allegro is definitely slow – I’m thinking this is more an Andante – but it is undeniably warm and lyrical and well nigh irresistible. Okay, Barenboim sounds stiff in a few spots, but it’s no biggie. The following Andante – ironically sounding faster than the opening Allegro – sounds nice and clean, with some jaunty, juicy, and perhaps ever so slightly mischievous playing finding its way to one’s ears. After a bit, this style of playing gives way to something that sounds almost quietly desperate or urgent, so when the playing returns to the opening material, it’s just a shade darker. Who wouldn’t want development like that? Barenboim slows down considerably for the middle section of the movement, and if he sounds a bit pointillistic at times, it still sounds appealing. As the movement winds down, the playing takes on a slightly bleak, abstract feel. Interesting. The Scherzo opens with the initial four note figure played a bit thicker than I like, and really the whole thing is too slow. To offset this one must consider the substantial though subtle dynamic and tonal variation Barenboim brings to each reappearance of this figure and the subsequent music. As in some other works, it sounds a bit contrived at times, but it also works. The concluding Rondo also ends up sounding just a tad too slow, but like the opening movement it works rather well. Barenboim seems to think this movement needs some extra breathing room and he isn’t afraid to give it that. Even with a slowish tempo, Barenboim builds the central climax to an amply powerful state while never sounding hard, and he ends the piece with some nice, brisk playing. Maybe this doesn’t rise to the level of the very best – it certainly cannot match Kempff’s unmatchable recordings – but it is successful in its own way.

So, another batch down, and once again the results are variable, though here things trend a bit better than the first seven sonatas. I wonder what the Op 31 sonatas will bring . . .


--
Posted on: 04 February 2006 by Dougunn
Todd

As ever your reviews are wonderfully expressive and make me realise how little I know about classical music.

I have always been a fan or Barenboim's Moonlight (both the EMI and the DG) but it seems your much more learned thoughts are different.

As I love this piece of music I would really appreciate your thinking on which are the standout 'Moonlight' recordings.

Many thanks

Douglas
Posted on: 04 February 2006 by Todd A
quote:
Originally posted by Dougunn:
As I love this piece of music I would really appreciate your thinking on which are the standout 'Moonlight' recordings.



Sure thing. [Taken from another forum:]


The Mondschein sonata is actually one of my least favorite of the sonatas. I still enjoy it, of course, but I’d rather listen to any number of other sonatas before it. That written, there are certainly some versions I can’t live without. I’m thinking of Wilhelm Backhaus’ mono recording for Decca for evoking just the right mood in the outer movements; Annie Fischer’s EMI recording for passion and control in equal measure; Walter Gieseking’s EMI recording for fleet, dexterous playing and relatively light textures; Yves Nat for a slightly heavier yet fully engrossing version; and Rudolf Firkusny’s dine EMI recording for a deft blend of the best of Gieseking’s and Annie’s best traits mixed with Firkusny’s pianistic goodness.

--
Posted on: 05 February 2006 by Dougunn
Todd

Many thanks, I am intrigued and will investigate . . .

Douglas
Posted on: 05 February 2006 by Paul Richards
Todd,
You have made me very curious about this cycle and it may be going onto my shopping list.

There is so much good Beethoven around...Kempff, Brendel, and for something entirely unique and elevated S. Richter.

Thanks for your review!
Paul
Posted on: 07 February 2006 by Todd A
Up to this point, Barenboim’s EMI cycle has struck me as a well played, somewhat somber, serious, and very deliberate affair. Barenboim obviously has the talent to play Beethoven any way he wants, and he seems to want to create a sort of etched model of the music. At times, the music making sounds compelling. At other times it doesn’t. I can’t really say that anything up to this point strikes me as a world-beater or even world-matcher. I thus expected more of the same. Imagine my surprise upon hearing the Op 31 sonatas; Barenboim knocks ‘em out of the park!

The first of the batch is a sheer delight from start to finish. The Allegro vivace opens much more quickly than I expected, and Barenboim’s control is superb. His playing is strong and pointed, but it also brings out the humor in the music. In short, it’s all strengths and no weaknesses. The Adagio opens with absolutely delightful trills – among the most satisfying I’ve heard – that sound at once soft and clear. All the while, Barenboim keeps on poking out the left hand part with rock-solid assurance in an almost oblivious sounding way. It’s really something. One can almost envision him smiling, or at least smirking, while playing. The playing assumes a more serious air in the middle section, which is fine. Perhaps the climax is a bit too serious, a bit contrived, but it hardly matters. As things slow down, Barenboim’s playing takes on an effortless, flowing sound that, when married to his tone control, is quite something to hear. The return of the quicker opening material is handled just as well as at the outset. Even though this movement is brought in at just shy of 12’, the whole thing cruises right on by. The concluding Rondo is superb. Barenboim gets the tempo just right, and his unusually clear playing of the left and right hand parts brings out all manner of delightful bon-bons for the ears. This recording pretty much has it all. Outstanding.

The Tempest opens with a slow, drawn out Largo that clearly presages the coming stormy music. When the Allegro arrives, Barenboim fairly hammers it out, but in a decidedly good way! He plays the contrasts of the music to the hilt: Every time the Largo theme is recalled, it is tinged with a sense of desperation; every time the Allegro theme is recalled, it is with anger and power. Oh Yeah! The Adagio finds Barenboim combining all of his formidable strengths together to yield a perfectly judged movement displaying a sense of isolation, desperation, and some great urgency. The concluding Allegretto actually sounds a bit quicker than perhaps is perfect, though that makes it pretty much ideal. Barenboim pounds out the forte chords with piercing power. The slow, quiet passages seem merely to be short rests before the next outburst. Yes, this is a fine 31/2, and one that just increases the stature of this cycle to my ears.

The last of the critical bunch is just as good as the other two. The Allegro opens with a slightly slow initial (and repeated) phrase, but then transforms into yet another example of perfect tempo being applied to create just the right effect. I guess one might say the approach is a tad too serious, but the plain old fun bits come out – and this work has gobs of those. Barenboim plays with notable power, too; as I was listening to the recording rather loud, the walls, furniture, and even the easy chair in my stereo room were all vibrating rather noticeably whenever Danny hammered out a loud-yet-never-even-remotely-hard-or-steely chord. The Scherzo is quick ‘n’ jaunty, and mostly delivered in a constricted range, almost as though Barenboim is hunched over the piano, his hands a-scamperin’ until an outburst is called for, in which case he hits them keys hard. It’s all very serious, but it’s also seriously fun. (Really, is a truly light-hearted approach even desirable here?) The Menuetto slows things down a bit, but it also sounds gloriously lyrical, with the exception of them startling wallops that Barenboim unleashes here and there. Yes, yes, it sounds a bit calculated, but so what? It’s some good stuff. The concluding Presto con fuoco more or less end the piece on a perfect – or close approximation thereof – note. It’s fast and lively and sunny and even groovy; it’s the total package. So, Mr Barenboim comes through in this most important batch of works. That’s a good thing and only serves to make me think more highly of the set and his LvB creds.

Moving on to the Op 49 works sees, or rather hears a diminution in overall quality: The recordings are merely excellent. The first of the two opens with an Andante that initially sounds a bit solemn, though it opens up a bit later on. The Rondo conclusion, though, sounds swift, light-hearted, and reasonably fluid. Good stuff. The second sonata opens with an Allegro ma non troppo very much like the Rondo that concluded the prior work. The Tempo di menuetto, though it sounds a bit slow initially, is lyrical and downright charming. (Is there a more purely charming theme by Beethoven than this one?) Anyway, both fare well enough to warrant repeated listens.

Time now for a biggie. The Waldstein, properly done, is superb. Done less well, it ends up sounding too long and a bit boring. Alas, Barenboim’s recording falls into the latter category. Things start off well enough, with swift, light, and pointed playing, but as the work swells, Barenboim never lets loose. The crescendos all have a stiff, almost labored feel. They also lack power, relatively speaking. As a result, the movement sort of runs straight through to the end without much staying in one’s memory. The Adagio fares better, sounding tonally rich and varied and possessed of a desolate, melancholy feel. It stands as the high point of this interpretation. The concluding Rondo opens with slow but gorgeous sounding playing, and the powerful yet controlled fortissimo playing certainly sounds grand, but the movement never takes off. It’s too slow, too deliberate, and that just will not do. I suppose it’s okay, but I need something more.

Moving on to the Op 54 sonata finds a mixed recording. The In tempo di Menuetto opening starts off with a well-judged overall tempo, and Barenboim deploys all his standard pianistic tricks to good effect. Some of the louder playing sounds somewhat stiff at times, but the slower, softer playing sounds as lyrical as anyone’s. The very slow ending does sound too contrived to succeed, though. The concluding Allegretto ends up coming across as to too slow and too deliberate, and even Barenboim’s sumptuous tone, precise articulation, and fine dynamic control can’t completely off-set the negatives.

Time now for another biggie. The Appassionata demands a certain type of approach that Barenboim hasn’t shown up to this point; it demands some serious bite. Barenboim sensibly opens the piece in tentative, restrained fashion. The subsequent climaxes thus sound comparatively “big,” but they also sound hesitant. His playing after the climaxes tends to sound thick. A few times, later in the movement, Barenboim does add some bite to some crescendos, and some of the slow playing does take on a decent fluid quality, but never does he generate the heat of, say, Annie or Sviatoslav. It almost sounds as though Barenboim is trying to present an idealized version of the work; it becomes an aural museum piece. Not surprisingly, the Andante just cruises along, sounding nice and well played, but lacks the emotion needed to engage the listener. The repeatless Allegro ma non troppo comes off best, perhaps, being reasonably fast and strong, but the absence of passion and the repeat dooms it to also-ran (at best) status. Much better can be had.

The last two works in this batch are the fine little Op 78 and Op 79 sonatas, both works I appreciate more now that I’ve heard them played in so many different ways. To the first: The Adagio cantabile enjoys big, quasi-orchestral chords at the open, then turns swift yet rich and lyrical before the Allegro vivace, delivered at a nice clip, winds down the work with all of Barenboim’s usual traits. The 79 opens with a brittle sounding Presto alla tedesca that nonetheless is just energetic and fun enough to forgive the sound. The Andante is perhaps a smidgeon too light – this movement can be taken more seriously – but, again, the Barenboimisms keep things interesting. The concluding Vivace is sunny and warm, though a bit clunky here and there. Overall, though, both works come off rather well.

While I can’t say that Barenboim’s cycle is one of my favorites up to this point, I think it is fair to say that he does have a lot to offer. I would have never expected such fine readings of the Op 31 sonatas, for instance. I look forward to the late works.


--
Posted on: 11 February 2006 by Todd A
I suppose I should have expected it. A superb Op 31 trio aside, the first twenty-five sonatas were characterized by deliberate, accurate, clear, and tonally beautiful playing. (The Op 31 sonatas display said traits, too, but they offer much more.) They were also devoid, in many cases, of real rhythmic brio and youthful energy. While Barenboim’s combination of strengths work variably well in the early and middle sonatas, they work much better in the late sonatas. Exaggerated excitement and breathless speed, while exceptionally compelling if done right, don’t come close to ensuring success in the late sonatas. Rather, the very traits that Barenboim possesses and deploys in abundance seem more appropriate. Ideally, a pianist combines all elements in a perfect mix to render perfect or near-perfect late sonatas. Such mixtures are rare, indeed. Barenboim doesn’t offer such a rare mixture of strengths; nonetheless, the stars appear to have aligned during the recording of the late-ish and late sonatas.

The Les Adieux, in many ways, is a microcosm of what Danny offers in the last seven works. The opening movement, indeed the entire work, is taken at a broad tempo. Barenboim’s control, precision, tonal coloring, and clarity are all amazing. He then combines all his pianistic traits to create almost sculpted performances. The late works are all idealized, serious, and timeless, or at least one pianist’s take at timeless. In some ways, Barenboim’s pianism reminds one of Michelangeli’s take of Beethoven, though even Barenboim cannot claim to achieve the same level of super-refinement that Michelangeli does. (And one could never confuse the two pianists!) Anyway, to the specific work, the opening movement sounds decidedly large-scaled; it sounds quasi-orchestral; it sounds Grand. It also sounds idealized. Rather than bringing out the emotional elements of a fond farewell, Barenboim plays it straight, as it were. The second movement lacks any sense of sadness, bitterness, or contemplativeness (or whatever other variant one may prefer), but rather sounds sober and serious and sculpted, and formal. The final movement actually does manage to sound exultant at the open, and does possess admirable scale and drive, but the overall impression is of a sweeping, epic, sculpted work. It’s pretty nifty.

The Op 90 sonata also possesses a sculpted sound. The opening movement is definitely on the slow side, but it is beautifully lyrical and plaintive, even if artificially so. (The runs in the middle, though, are fast and clear.) Some of Barenboim’s touches seem a bit contrived, and play up the drama, but it all works. The second movement is likewise slow, but unusually clear in texture, decidedly beautiful, and unexpectedly touching. And it possesses periods of absolutely lustrous pianism. How does Barenboim coax such a sound from such a percussive instrument? That makes two fine recordings in a row.

Even more successful is the Op 101 sonata. Here’s a sonata that I very much enjoy, but seem to have difficulty finding that one or two readings that really nail it for me. (That’s also a “problem” with the 109.) Barenboim’s take is very much a version for me. The opening Allegretto opens with all of the standard Barenboimisms, but his playing also sounds natural, unforced. Perhaps Barenboim’s playing can best be described as direct; he doesn’t really create that searching / philosophical / ethereal, or whatever other description you may like for this or other late works, but his playing nonetheless sounds utterly compelling. The subsequent march is very energetic, very march-like, and, a slow but still very good middle section aside, is taken at just the right tempo. The Adagio is somber and slow and heavy, but everything works well. The Allegro section is quite simply remarkable: Barenboim’s playing is remarkably clear, the sonorities he extracts almost superhumanly wondrous, and he plays it fast at times, but he never pushes anything. Surely, though, it is the conclusion that works best. The fugal ending is masterful. Masterful. I can think of no pianist who plays the ending in a more spectacularly clear way, so that every voice, every note is there to be savored. Again, this recording is somewhat sculpted and idealized, but it is also, at times, stunning, and certainly rates with the very best out there.

I guess is some ways, one can almost look at this cycle as one gargantuan build-up to the Hammerklavier, with the last three sonatas acting as an extended musical dénouement. When I glanced at the timings for this work, I was somewhat unhappy. It’s over 50 minutes long. The Adagio tops out at over 21 minutes. Generally, I prefer speedier readings. Friedrich Gulda’s Amadeo cycle is breathtakingly fast and daring and thrilling, and is one of my favorites. Other stalwarts here, whether Pollini’s, well, sovereign reading, or Serkin’s titanic reading, or Annie’s fiery reading, all come in at substantially shorter timings. Despite my preference for swifter readings, Barenboim makes a believer out of me. He shows that a slower reading can succeed. Fabulously. The opening Allegro is taken at a broad tempo, yet Barenboim always maintains suitable energy levels and forward drive. What helps his case is his massive, quasi-orchestral playing. This sounds huge and grand, and when combined with Barenboim’s superb tonal control and admirable clarity, with the left-hand playing again coming through clear, clear, clear, one is left sitting in wonder at his achievement. The Scherzo is likewise broad, but Barenboim injects more energy, more oomph – and everything sounds just about ideal. The great Adagio, even as long as it is, sounds fabulous. Barenboim again deploys his wonderful tonal palette, as well as his clear playing, and he creates a vast, somber, melancholy movement. The middle of the movement assumes a simultaneously poignant and unsettling feel, underlined by an insistent, incessant, but never overpowering left-hand. Some of the music sounds truly pathetic – in the most literal sense of the word. It is superb. The final movement opens with a serene Largo before moving into a Fugue that pretty much has it all. The tempo is neither too fast nor too slow; the tone is predictably attractive; the conception is grand; and, most important of all, there is a contrapuntal clarity of the highest possible order. Everything aligns just right; this is a superb recording. I can’t say it displaces any of my prior favorites, but it definitely joins them.

Now to the dénouement. The 109, like the prior four works, sounds pretty darned good. The opening Vivace ma non troppo is perhaps not as vivacious as some may like – it sounds slow, heavy-ish, and rich – and Barenboim’s deliberate playing may be a tad dour here and there, but somehow he makes his idealized, statuesque approach work. Likewise, the too-slow Prestissimo still works; Barenboim’s strength and clarity carry the day. The concluding movement starts with a wonderfully nuanced and beautiful Andante theme and then proceeds to variations of distinction, with Barenboim using all his formidable skill to create a masterful, compelling sound world. Superb!

Just about as good is the 110. The opening Moderato cantabile is again broad, with all those tasty Barenboimisms on display to create a radiant, lyrical, and moving movement. The Allegro molto movement, while again broad, is more surprising for it relative softness. Barenboim never unleashes a torrent of powerful notes; rather, he chooses to play the music in a more reassuring, joyous way. It’s a nice change of pace. The Adagio open to the last movement is desolate and dark, and daringly slow. Barenboim utilizes incredibly long pauses that seriously threaten to break the musical line. At times, he holds out playing the next note or chord until the very last picosecond. It works. The fugue, well, as one might expect, it’s a model of clarity and power. The repeated chords before the return of the fugue grow in volume and heft with each hammering of the keys, and the repeated two-note pattern afterward is remarkably distinct and attention-grabbing. The inverted fugue itself is rounded and soft-ish and lovely, and the coda is fast and strong, ending the work on an abrupt note. It’s some good stuff.

So that leaves the C-minor sonata. It, too, is some good stuff. The opening movement gets off to a slightly restrained yet tense start. There’s a nice build-up to the heavy, deep, ominous music to follow, and Barenboim sensibly adds a bit of power and drive to the proceedings. The second movement opens with a calm, beautiful, and beautifully distant Arietta before moving into variations of some distinction. Barenboim knows when to play in a graceful, liquid way, and he knows when to boogie. When he needs to play the piece softly, ascending into the musico-spiritual ether, he does so with aplomb. At times, his playing sounds as though two different pianists on two different instruments are playing, it’s that distinct. And when it comes time to play that extra-long trill, he does so in an extra-superb way. (It’s clear, solid, meticulously shaped and varied, and surrounded by captivating musical goings-on all around it, if you must know.) All told, this is a fine ending to a much-better-than-expected last batch of sonatas.

So how to sum up Mr Barenboim’s first of three complete forays into this literature? I certainly cannot say that this is my favorite cycle, and I have some difficulty proclaiming it a “great” cycle. My informal method of determining “greatness” requires that a pianist nail all three Op 31 sonatas, delivers at least three top notch readings from the first eight sonatas, and gets at least three of the last six sonatas right, and doesn’t deliver more than one or two outright dogs elsewhere. Barenboim definitely avoids bombing at any of the works, he nails the 31s, and his late sonatas are the highlight of his cycle. But his early sonatas are a bit too heavy and contrived for my liking. (Well, I don’t think they’re the best, let’s put it that way.) I’m not so concerned about how to rate Barenboim overall; I’m just glad that finally heard his EMI cycle, especially for its strengths. A number of the recordings will earn multiple spins, of that I have no doubt. But Ms Fischer and Messrs Gulda, Kempff, and Backhaus remain unrivalled.


--