Craig Sheppard Plays Beethoven

Posted by: Todd A on 13 March 2006

Over the past several months I’ve read some positive reviews and comments about Craig Sheppard’s Beethoven cycle, so I figured I should probably try it out at some point. When the opportunity arose to acquire the set in a most affordable fashion, well, there was no reason to not give it a listen. Sheppard is a name I’d only seen once or twice before reading about the Beethoven cycle, and then only when scouring ancient reviews in Gramophone. Mr Sheppard has been around for quite a while, it turns out. He placed second to Murray Perahia in the 1972 Leeds competition, and has made a variety of recordings of a reasonably wide-ranging repertoire on a number of labels. One of his early Liszt recordings was cited for fine virtuosity, so between that and the competition result, it would seem he should be able to deftly handle the technical aspects of the music. The fact that he studied at the Curtis Institute and Juilliard and worked or studied with Claude Frank and Rudolf Serkin also bodes well for his ability. So I came to his cycle expecting something at least well executed. Sheppard’s cycle was recorded live during a series of concerts in 2003 and 2004 in Seattle in the Meany Theater, so it’s up to date and modern, with whatever one wants to associate with that. As an aside, Sheppard’s website has an unusual error: it states that his is the only live cycle on the market today, leaving out Yukio Yokoyama’s, Andrea Lucchesini’s, and Georges Pludermacher’s to name three. It’s not really material; it’s just an odd and inaccurate selling point. Anyway, time for the music . . .

Way too close. The sound is way too close. The sound is dry and claustrophobically close – almost to the point of being oppressively in your face. It’s like one’s head is stuck under the lid of the piano. That was the very first impression I got, and it never abated. Tonally the sound is fine, though dynamics suffer a bit as will be mentioned later on. Beyond the too-close sound there is much to admire.

The first sonata opens with an Allegro marginally slower than I usually prefer, though the pace quickly picks up. It sounds a bit deliberate, but Sheppard will just dash off an arpeggio or otherwise impress with small touches of virtuosity. He never resorts to excesses of any kind. The part playing is also very distinct – aided by the close recording – with unique left hand accents frequently evident. The movement sounds a bit intense, a bit nerve-wracking at times. It’s not especially youthful or upbeat. The Adagio opens more smoothly, but then it’s back to a more intense, fraught approach. Sheppard deploys a number of little tricks here, like when he’ll cut short a chord for dramatic effect. Again, there is a nervous energy that permeates the playing. The Menuetto comes across as well-played, quick, with more of the tension evident in the first two movements, but still basically straight. The concluding Prestissimo starts with a finely judged overall tempo, bite, and growl. Here that’s most certainly a good thing. The section immediately after the opening material slows down and assumes a somewhat waltz-like beat audible in the left hand. The tension that has thus far been part of the recording remains, and Sheppard throws in some nice, purposely choppy playing that only increases the tension some more, especially in the repeat. Perhaps this isn’t my favorite take on the opening sonata, but everything works very well indeed.

Sheppard opens the second sonata in much the same way as the first. That is, the opening Allegro vivace opens just a bit on the slow side but quickly picks up, with Sheppard utilizing pauses and his rubato in a most successful manner. And again the bass line is quite distinct and steady. At times Sheppard veers toward an over-thought approach, but he always stops just shy of playing in an over-calculated fashion. The one drawback with the recording is the length; Sheppard takes the repeat, and he can’t make it work. It’s just too long. The Largo appassionato opens rather briskly, with an almost march-like left hand underpinning the music. Sheppard’s tone remains nicely rounded and appealing, despite the close sound, and the playing remains clear and never sounds hard. At times, Sheppard speeds up quite a bit and plays with great power in an impressive virtuosic display. Unfortunately, the too-close sound prevents his crescendos from assuming the heft and scale they deserve. The Scherzo is fast and sharp to open, with Sheppard maintaining a nice, pointed but not too sharp staccato much of the time thereafter. The middle section is fast and driven with more clear and choppy (in a good way!) playing. The ending Rondo benefits from all of Sheppard’s strengths, but sounds just a bit stiff at times. So, like the first sonata, this is very good if not quite one of my favorites.

The final sonata of the opening trio shows up the problem in the recorded sound again. Some of the playing in the Allegro con brio opener sounds almost blocky. That is, each chord is distinct and as a result the music doesn’t jell as well as it should – it’s an aural X-ray that reveals everything. After the opening bars, things do improve, and Sheppard once again displays impressive drive and power. The Adagio is taut and light at the open, with Sheppard moving the piece along with surprising tension. Low notes strike like thunder here (I was listening way too loud, I admit) yet they never sound even remotely hard or harsh. Beyond that, Sheppard’s ability to vary every aspect of his playing all at once really captivates. The man can tickle the ivories, that’s for sure. The Scherzo is quick, pointed, and jaunty, with a slightly malevolent air creating a sense of vigorous fun. The middle section is the thing here, though. Sheppard plays the bass part with massive, ponderous, and crushing power with an acid right hand burning one’s ears. It is pulverizing, but Sheppard never pulverizes the music. Sweet. The concluding Allegro assai is quick but not soaring (perhaps it’s the sound again), has some jolting (micro-) halts, and ends with a muscular display of pianism. This is the best of the opening trio, and one I know I’ll return to.

Moving on to the fourth sonata finds Sheppard opening with a very fast Allegro molto e con brio characterized by a scampering, almost twitchy right hand. The crescendos here sound fuller than in the earlier sonatas, and they are somewhat rich, as well. The playing just after 4’20” sounds feathery light – it’s really captivating – with the music that follows sounding more testy. One gripe is that the bass chords around 5’30” sound too spread out for my taste, but ‘tis only a quibble. The Largo is fast – at least when notes are being played. Sheppard uses the pauses expertly, and the quickness of the notes makes the pauses sound comparatively long even though they’re not. It’s a nice trick. The fiercer middle section is exactly that: Fierce. The Allegro, in contrast, sounds chipper and (for Sheppard) leisurely. The middle section has a nice rolling bass and Sheppard makes his Hamburg Steinway growl near the end. Sheppard ends the work with a Rondo that sounds at once lyrical and pointed. As things progress, the punchy left hand and taut right hand sound groovy, but in a slightly blocky way. The coda, though, flows along and ends the work in beautiful fashion. Four for four.

After four vigorous, muscular readings, I expected more of the same in the second trio of works. Instead, the first of the Op 10 sonatas offers something slightly different. The opening Allegro molto e con brio opens at a comfortable pace. It’s not slow, it’s just not shot-from-a-cannon fast like Claude Frank offers. The entire first movement sounds somewhat leisurely – by Sheppard’s standards – and if it assumes a quasi-orchestral scale, it still lacks some oomph. It does offer more of Sheppard’s unique pointed-yet-tonally variegated playing, though. The Adagio molto, while very strong when needed, sounds surprisingly warm and relaxed. Dynamics are somewhat muted overall, and it’s somewhat quick. Things end with a warmish, clear, rollicking, and fun Prestissimo. Not bad. For the second sonata of the group, Sheppard opts to play it light. Mostly. The Allegro is fun yet tightly controlled, with tasteful rubato and nice clarity. The Allegretto is tight, and somewhat quick, and the Presto (with repeat) opens at a sensible pace only to build up in both speed and power, though the coda doesn’t have enough snap. The second trio ends with the best performance of the bunch. Sheppard opens the work with a fast, pointed, and literal Presto. He doesn’t play with great breadth or depth yet plays seriously, to the point of sounding stern. Generally, that would be bad news, but not here. Sheppard forces the listener to believe! The Largo comes across as dark and bleak, which is good, but it never assumes a proto-106 Adagio feeling. Instead, it is unrelenting in its bleakness. That’s fine. The Menuetto benefits from big, rich bass playing and fleet right hand playing. To end things, Sheppard plays the Rondo fast, with some chords jack-hammered out, and ends the whole thing strongly.

Time for the perennially popular Pathetique. Not surprisingly, Sheppard opens with a pounded out chord to start off the Grave. The following music is hard-hitting, fast, urgent, intense, and angry, if not quite as loud as the opening announcement. The Allegro, also predictably, is played very fast, but it is also surprisingly unclear, at least by the standards set forth thus far. Some of the playing is diffuse, the runs somewhat soft and muddied, yet nervous, angry tension remains. It sounds like Sheppard may just get up and pimp-slap someone. Just before the coda, Sheppard plays more reflectively, more sorrowfully, and then he unloads on the listener. The Adagio sounds like a lament. It’s immediate and touching to start and switches over to a more idealized sound thereafter. Sheppard concludes the work with a direct, forward-moving, serious Rondo. Overall, this is an excellent version, yet it doesn’t quite match up with the very best. That’s hardly a condemnation.

Given Sheppard’s overall approach up to this point, I approached the Op 14 sonatas with a bit of trepidation. His muscular, pointed style, while compelling, could potentially make these pieces whither. That doesn’t happen. The first sonata opens with a quick, usually light, but sometimes meaty Allegro, moves to a somewhat lyrical but sometimes slightly too serious Allegretto and ends with a fast and serious but still fun Rondo. A world-beater it may not be, but it makes for fun listening. Better is the second sonata. Sheppard plays the Allegro in a warm, lyrical, and at times outright charming fashion. The Andante is pointed and poised, with the playing varying nicely between slightly quick and vigorous and soft and alluring. Sheppard ends the work with a light, lyrical Scherzo dashed off with panache. More good stuff.

But it is surely the meatier fare that matters more, and so I listened with keen interest to the Op 22 sonata. The Allegro opens in a generally fast and somewhat light manner, but Sheppard allows himself a lot of latitude here, really letting ‘er rip a few times and holding back ever so slightly – via shortened notes or chords or softer volume – at other times. The Adagio is again fast and light, with minute tonal variations and an insistent but never overpowering left hand underpinning. Overall, it’s dispassionate, but it is very well executed. As to the Menuetto, well, it seems that Sheppard likes to play this piece fast and light, and here his tone is quite ingratiating and his overall tempo, too, with the stronger middle section offering a nice contrast. Things come to a conclusion with an energetic Rondo, with some slightly cloudy playing offering a break from the X-ray treatment. It’s rather lyrical, too, and Sheppard brings the thing to a thundering close. Again, another fine performance, if not a front-runner.

The first eleven sonatas reveal Craig Sheppard to be an extremely talented pianist. He certainly has no difficulty playing the music the way he wants to. And what he wants to do is largely very interesting. His style is lean and pointed and muscular, and largely devoid of emotional excess. He’s classical and occasionally aggressive and always compelling. Indeed, he hasn’t delivered even one dog up to this point. That’s a good sign. I can easily hear why this set has received good reviews and praise from many people. However, Sheppard’s cycle is one of three modern cycles I’m listening to at present (the other two will be covered shortly) and I enjoy the other two even more. That I can write that just goes to show that LvB fans are not starved for choice.

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Posted on: 22 March 2006 by Todd A
I guess I should have expected it. Sheppard’s set up to this point has been a serious, completely thought-through and rethought-through affair. Such an approach doesn’t always benefit the earliest sonatas. To be sure, Sheppard’s take on the first eleven sonatas offers some fine listening, but the next eight are altogether better. That much is evident starting with the Op 26 sonata. Sheppard opens the Andante in a clear, lyrical, and surprisingly warm way. Sheppard’s playing to this point has had an appealing tone – somewhat surprisingly given the oppressively close recorded perspective – but this piece sounds even more immediately appealing. Anyway, the variations all sound very good, the fast ones delivered in groovy fashion, the slower ones in more colorful fashion, and all of them display micro-dynamic and micro-tonal variations. The Scherzo opens more softly than I expected, has all them micro- variations again, and then proceeds to build up in tension and speed quite nicely. (Alas, the extra-close miking means that one can hear Sheppard stomping on the pedals too clearly.) The funeral march opens with a nice, brisk cadence and sounds deadly serious if not especially funereal. (There’s little in the way of overt emotion; it’s quite formal and somewhat detached.) Sheppard gradually builds up the power in the movement to near thundering levels. To end the work, Sheppard plays the Allegro in clear, quick, plucky fashion and alternates dynamics nicely. The work ends on a vigorous note. Overall, this is an excellent recording.

Moving on to the important Op 27/1 finds Mr Sheppard playing at a high level. He opens the work with by playing the Andante in a generally light, sweet, and slightly brisk manner, and the second go-round of the Andante after the Allegretto sounds the same. The second theme is much the same but introduces a steady and clear but never obtrusive left hand accompaniment to add the groove factor. The Allegro, in contrast, is punchy, with the cascading notes a sheer delight. The Allegro molto e vivace sounds clear and pointed in Sheppard’s best style, but he also holds back a little to start with so he can then build up to the powerful, bass-rich climax, which then fades slowly and beautifully into the gorgeous Adagio, which sounds more about lovely surface playing than deep exploration. That’s quite alright here. Alas, the concluding Allegro vivace sounds just a smidgeon too deliberate – where’s the fantastic element? – and detracts slightly from Sheppard’s overall achievement. That quibble aside, the playing is forceful and quick and pointed – the lovely slow middle section obviously aside – and the rolling bass that introduces the final section is powerful ‘n’ rumbly. (After that, though, does Sheppard throw in an extra note in the first ascending figure? No matter.) Overall, this is a fine version and again indicates that Sheppard is more at home in middle period stuff than in early stuff.

That impression is cemented with the Mondschein sonata. Sheppard opens with a somber, dark, somewhat subdued and perfectly paced Adagio sostenuto. It sounds somewhat straight and shorn of interpretive artifice – and it works! Same with the Allegretto, which is suitably quicker, brighter, somewhat warm, but not quite sunny and cheery. To close, Sheppard lets loose. Sort of. While his playing is indeed very fast, he doesn’t tear into the piece; rather, he starts off somewhat softly, with superb micro-dynamics, and even when he does play louder, he keeps it all under control. Exciting control. Dynamics remain somewhat constrained and never does the sound bite or glare, but who cares? This is a superb reading.

The Pastorale reaffirms the positive impression made by the 27/2. The Allegro opens relatively briskly, with a gently rocking left hand and supremely lyrical right hand. The overall sound is somewhat relaxed – for Sheppard – but still nicely taut, and Sheppard’s superb dynamic and tonal variations just add to the allure. Throw in a massive climax near the end, and the work gets off to a solid start. The Andante opens with a slightly stiff left hand accompaniment, though the right hand playing is most attractive. The middle section is more pointed and stronger, yet still jolly, and the return of the opening material is lyrical yet slightly cool. The Scherzo opens quite slowly, picks up both speed and volume with the third and fourth iteration of the material, and then reverts back to the opening style. The whole thing sounds a bit contrived and overthought, but I still found myself enjoying it a lot. Sheppard ends with a lyrical Rondo that displays some more noticeable rubato, but it flows along nicely. The middle section finds Sheppard playing powerfully, and the conclusion ends in a nice, rocking fashion. Perhaps this doesn’t scale the heights to challenge, say, Kempff (but then no one else’s does, either), but it is fine version in its own right.

Crunch time. Could Sheppard pull off a successful Op 31 trio? I, for one, hoped so. Things got off to a promising start. Sheppard opens the first sonata with an Allegro vivace that is suitably fast but also light – his fingers glide across the keys. Then he’ll hammer out some notes just to return to the lighter style of playing. He alternates these styles to the end, throwing in numerous unique touches along the way. The overall effect sounds something like an analytical dissection of the music – but it is a most enlightening and entertaining dissection. Sheppard brings this style to the Adagio grazioso. One notices it first with the trills: they sound crisp but not entirely uniform. Sheppard adds all manner of variations to them. All the while, his left hand is playing a brisk, uniform repeated figure. The middle section sounds much stronger, as is appropriate, and then the return to the trills finds playing much like in the opening, but the left hand playing is even better: it’s amazingly clear (aided by the close recording), rhythmically solid, and utterly enjoyable. The big, bold ending just makes it more attractive yet. To close, Sheppard plays the Rondo in a simultaneously fun and stern fashion. It’s vigorous. It’s muscular. It’s analytical. Yet I found myself quietly whistling along. Superb.

Musical dissection seems to be the main approach in the Tempest, too. Sheppard opens the Largo with a muddied arpeggio. A slip, I thought, but then he does it again. Not a slip, I thought. It doesn’t really set the mood ideally, but rather creates a simple yet solid platform from which to launch into the Allegro. The Allegro itself is constrained. The dynamic contrasts become more about micro-dynamic contrasts than macro-dynamic ones, and this constrained approach actually works to create a pervasive sense on unresolved tension. The middle section finds Sheppard slowly ratcheting up the tension some more – and pounding out chords so powerfully that some minor break-up can be heard in the right channel – for ultimate release I thought, but no. Even as he winds down he sounds wound up. The brisk Adagio largely maintains the tension, though in a different form. Here it’s suppressed anguish. (Are those small, subdued right hand figures repeated whimpers of desperation? You be the judge.) Sheppard releases all that built-up tension in the concluding Allegretto. The repeated figures are front-loaded – strong start, weaker end – and Sheppard piles on the bass power as things speed up. The torrential outpouring of notes ends up bringing the work to a wholly satisfying conclusion. Sheppard takes the piece apart and reassembles it into something unique and interesting. Again, Sheppard may not be up there with the very best, but his playing is superb.

The trio closes with a solid 31/3. The Allegro opens with a deliberate sound but quickly segues to superbly paced, energetic, and clear playing laced with subtle rubato. Even so, it sounds purposely constrained. The Scherzo is a bit odd. It’s slower than I prefer, there’s no doubt of that, and it’s too deliberate. These traits sap some of the energy from the music, though Sheppard infuses life into the music with his other traits. The Menuetto is likewise measured, but it’s so lovely and lyrical, that I just don’t care. It also boasts some huge fortissimo climaxes. (At least I hope they’re fortissimo; anything louder would cause deafness.) The Presto con fuoco closes with more musical dissection. Pretty much every note is very clearly and precisely rendered. If’n you’re after somethin’ more relaxin’, this ain’t gonna do. Even with such remarkable clarity and detail, the playing boasts outstanding momentum and forward drive and remains upbeat and energetic. Very good.

The little Op 49 ditties both fare well. The first opens with an Andante that is rich, beautiful, and serious (too serious?), with dashes of well place virtuosity for good measure. The Rondo is taut and charming. The second sonata opens with a vigorous and lyrical Allegro ma non troppo and ends with a slow, delicate, charming, and almost salon-ish Tempo di Menuetto. While these hardly rate as my favorite LvB works for solo piano, Sheppard does his formidable best to make them more substantial than normal.

My second helping of Sheppard was more interesting and satisfying than the first. His style is better suited to the more substantial works of the middle period. I wonder what the next batch will bring . . .

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Posted on: 28 March 2006 by Todd A
Mr Sheppard’s cycle is one of those interesting ones that gets better as one progresses through the works. At least that was the case with the first two batches, with Mr Sheppard’s serious, meticulously prepared playing more amenable to great middle period works than the earlier works. I assumed he would do well in the third batch. I was right.

Things get off to a good start with the Waldstein. Sheppard plays the Allegro con brio fast and solid to start, with an unyielding forward drive married to his nicely rounded and variable tone. Never does he sound hard or harsh or ugly, no matter how heated the playing. His playing is remarkably precise and controlled; his playing isn’t “free,” if you will. It is here that his contained, purposeful virtuosity pays big dividends. He’s doesn’t play fast just because he can; he does so to bring forth elements of the score while actually downplaying his own formidable ability. As if to show he’s about more than amazing control of every aspect of his playing at the fast ‘n’ loud end of the spectrum, he’s equally satisfying when he backs off. His softer playing is just as precise and controlled. The Introduzione again sounds controlled, this time sounding restrained and distantly contemplative. Stoic, even. The Rondo opens somewhat softly, with gently varied tone, then starts to build up slowly, with the long transitional trill leading to a massive sounding lower register led crescendo. His ability to play at widely different volume levels with each hand is certainly impressive, and then he adds to that by speeding up while continuing to play huge sounding fortissimo chords. He then backs off as appropriate, and then he alternates styles until the positively sizzling end. It’s superb, and one of his best performances up this point.

The Op 54 is likewise very strong. The In Tempo di menuetto has a nice overall tempo and is almost as (quasi-) danceable as Silverman’s take. The second section is clear and snappy, with deep, rich bass, and everything sounds relaxed yet taut. The second appearance of the minuet is faster and more lyrical – hell, it’s almost radiant – and that’s followed by a brief return of the second theme that is fast and strong but not overpowering. Sheppard ends the movement with a final shot at the minuet that is nicely drawn out and quick and snazzy, but never flashy. The Allegretto is a bit different. Sheppard opens in a restrained and lovely manner, as if he’ll just play a smooth, sunny closer, but then just after 1’ in switches to thundering, amazingly powerful, yet fully controlled playing that almost threatens to smother the music but never quite does. He plays within this broad range through the end. Another winner.

I came to the Appassionata with tempered expectations. There’s no doubt that Sheppard could deliver a blistering account if he wanted, but I didn’t think he would, and after Robert Silverman’s superb take, not doing so would mean this would be a merely excellent recording. And so it is. The Allegro assai opens in a slightly subdued but most definitely tense fashion – like a snake coiled and ready to strike. When it came time for the first fevered outburst, I was expecting some heat, but instead Sheppard plays things down a bit. Oh sure, he plays louder, but he keeps everything under wraps, if you will; the rest of the movement is played within a confined dynamic range, but one that maintains tension very well. The Andante con moto offers a respite of sorts, with lovely and direct playing allowing one to prepare for the closer. And it is in the closing movement where Sheppard finally unleashes torrents of impassioned notes, or damned fine approximations thereof. His playing is sharp, tense, and biting. The crescendos are aural tidal waves, and the whole thing comes to a powerful, positively growling conclusion. That’s three for three.

The Op 78 and 79 sonatas both come off well, too. The Op 78 opens with an Adagio cantabile that’s direct and lean. I guess it could be more lyrical, but what’s there is nice enough. The Allegro ma non troppo sounds comparatively “compact” – ie, played within strictly limited parameters – but is still reasonably lyrical. The Allegro vivace is pure, mischievous fun. The Op 79 opens with a somewhat gruff (obviously purposely so) Presto all tedesca that is nonetheless upbeat and occasionally warm. Sheppard also opts to handle the ‘cuckoo’ figures quite gently – like a revered joke he doesn’t want to overdo – and ends with a nicely emphasized off-key section. The Andante is somewhat faster than normal, with each chord and phrase hurriedly dashed off. The cumulative effect is actually quite serious and searching. To end, Sheppard plays the Vivace in a sunny, unforced manner. Perhaps these little works sound a bit less impressive than the preceding three, but they’re still excellent.

The last batch of sonatas ends with a superb Les Adieux. Throughout, Sheppard maintains a somewhat formal air, but that may just help things out. The Adagio opening is disconsolate and contemplative, as one might hope for, yet it is also a bit tense and uneasy. The subsequent Allegro section is very formal and serious, but it is instilled with fondness – think of it as the musical equivalent of buddies dressed in suits nudging each other in an otherwise stifling social setting. A bit of vigor pops up, but Sheppard keeps everything under perfect and calculated control. The Adagio cantabile sounds slightly agitated and nervous, and more angry than sad at the friend’s absence. The Vivacissimente opens with an effortless upward cascade of notes and quickly transforms into an ebullient, grand, yet still formal celebration. A nice touch is when Sheppard makes the piano ‘skip’ at around 2’30” and after – a touch unlike anyone else’s – and he ends the piece with grandeur and strength. That’s a fine way to end it.

And that’s a fine way to end another batch of fine performances. I eagerly await the last six sonatas.


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Posted on: 31 March 2006 by Todd A
Mr Sheppard’s cycle is one of those interesting ones that gets better as one progresses through the works. At least that was the case with the first two batches, with Mr Sheppard’s serious, meticulously prepared playing more amenable to great middle period works than the earlier works. I assumed he would do well in the third batch. I was right.

Things get off to a good start with the Waldstein. Sheppard plays the Allegro con brio fast and solid to start, with an unyielding forward drive married to his nicely rounded and variable tone. Never does he sound hard or harsh or ugly, no matter how heated the playing. His playing is remarkably precise and controlled; his playing isn’t “free,” if you will. It is here that his contained, purposeful virtuosity pays big dividends. He’s doesn’t play fast just because he can; he does so to bring forth elements of the score while actually downplaying his own formidable ability. As if to show he’s about more than amazing control of every aspect of his playing at the fast ‘n’ loud end of the spectrum, he’s equally satisfying when he backs off. His softer playing is just as precise and controlled. The Introduzione again sounds controlled, this time sounding restrained and distantly contemplative. Stoic, even. The Rondo opens somewhat softly, with gently varied tone, then starts to build up slowly, with the long transitional trill leading to a massive sounding lower register led crescendo. His ability to play at widely different volume levels with each hand is certainly impressive, and then he adds to that by speeding up while continuing to play huge sounding fortissimo chords. He then backs off as appropriate, and then he alternates styles until the positively sizzling end. It’s superb, and one of his best performances up this point.

The Op 54 is likewise very strong. The In Tempo di menuetto has a nice overall tempo and is almost as (quasi-) danceable as Silverman’s take. The second section is clear and snappy, with deep, rich bass, and everything sounds relaxed yet taut. The second appearance of the minuet is faster and more lyrical – hell, it’s almost radiant – and that’s followed by a brief return of the second theme that is fast and strong but not overpowering. Sheppard ends the movement with a final shot at the minuet that is nicely drawn out and quick and snazzy, but never flashy. The Allegretto is a bit different. Sheppard opens in a restrained and lovely manner, as if he’ll just play a smooth, sunny closer, but then just after 1’ in switches to thundering, amazingly powerful, yet fully controlled playing that almost threatens to smother the music but never quite does. He plays within this broad range through the end. Another winner.

I came to the Appassionata with tempered expectations. There’s no doubt that Sheppard could deliver a blistering account if he wanted, but I didn’t think he would, and after Robert Silverman’s superb take, not doing so would mean this would be a merely excellent recording. And so it is. The Allegro assai opens in a slightly subdued but most definitely tense fashion – like a snake coiled and ready to strike. When it came time for the first fevered outburst, I was expecting some heat, but instead Sheppard plays things down a bit. Oh sure, he plays louder, but he keeps everything under wraps, if you will; the rest of the movement is played within a confined dynamic range, but one that maintains tension very well. The Andante con moto offers a respite of sorts, with lovely and direct playing allowing one to prepare for the closer. And it is in the closing movement where Sheppard finally unleashes torrents of impassioned notes, or damned fine approximations thereof. His playing is sharp, tense, and biting. The crescendos are aural tidal waves, and the whole thing comes to a powerful, positively growling conclusion. That’s three for three.

The Op 78 and 79 sonatas both come off well, too. The Op 78 opens with an Adagio cantabile that’s direct and lean. I guess it could be more lyrical, but what’s there is nice enough. The Allegro ma non troppo sounds comparatively “compact” – ie, played within strictly limited parameters – but is still reasonably lyrical. The Allegro vivace is pure, mischievous fun. The Op 79 opens with a somewhat gruff (obviously purposely so) Presto all tedesca that is nonetheless upbeat and occasionally warm. Sheppard also opts to handle the ‘cuckoo’ figures quite gently – like a revered joke he doesn’t want to overdo – and ends with a nicely emphasized off-key section. The Andante is somewhat faster than normal, with each chord and phrase hurriedly dashed off. The cumulative effect is actually quite serious and searching. To end, Sheppard plays the Vivace in a sunny, unforced manner. Perhaps these little works sound a bit less impressive than the preceding three, but they’re still excellent.

The last batch of sonatas ends with a superb Les Adieux. Throughout, Sheppard maintains a somewhat formal air, but that may just help things out. The Adagio opening is disconsolate and contemplative, as one might hope for, yet it is also a bit tense and uneasy. The subsequent Allegro section is very formal and serious, but it is instilled with fondness – think of it as the musical equivalent of buddies dressed in suits nudging each other in an otherwise stifling social setting. A bit of vigor pops up, but Sheppard keeps everything under perfect and calculated control. The Adagio cantabile sounds slightly agitated and nervous, and more angry than sad at the friend’s absence. The Vivacissimente opens with an effortless upward cascade of notes and quickly transforms into an ebullient, grand, yet still formal celebration. A nice touch is when Sheppard makes the piano ‘skip’ at around 2’30” and after – a touch unlike anyone else’s – and he ends the piece with grandeur and strength. That’s a fine way to end it.

And that’s a fine way to end another batch of fine performances. I eagerly await the last six sonatas.


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