Ashkenazy and Lucchesini Play Late Beethoven
Posted by: Todd A on 31 July 2005
Having reached the same point in both cycles, I decided to do a head-to-head comparison in the late sonatas to determine who I like best and precisely why. I haven’t done head-to-head comparisons of Beethoven’s sonatas for a while, and the last time I did was in an Annie vs Schnabel shoot-out where I determined that Annie is indeed the supreme master of all things Beethoven. (She also smote Kempff and Frank in comparative listening.) So who would emerge my favorite here? These are two distinctive pianists, Ashkenazy the powerful virtuoso playing it safe, and Lucchesini the restrained and soft lyrical pianist playing beautifully. Hmm . . .
I got underway with the Op 90 of course, and I opted to hear the elder pianist first. Trouble emerged immediately. Ashkenazy opens the piece in a heavy, lumbering way. He soon recovers and moves into a more conventional approach, though his playing and sound is a bit cutting. Things flow relatively smoothly, and a few times he brings his awesome power to the fore. The second movement is more subdued and straight-forward, but Ashkenazy also succumbs to the problem that plagues many of his slow movements: the music making is a little boring and plain sounding. He doesn’t do anything wrong, but he doesn’t bring anything especially valuable, either. And his playing doesn’t sing, and in this lyrical late sonata that is a problem. By contrast, Lucchesini more or less nails it. His more aurally beautiful, smooth, and somewhat soft and lyrical tone all work together to produce a glorious reading. He doesn’t open as strongly as the Russian, and throughout his dynamic range is narrower, but the trade-offs come elsewhere. First of all, if Lucchesini doesn’t play as loudly, he excels at adding more color and nuance further down the dynamic scale. His soft playing is incredibly beautiful and controlled. While some may find the opening movement too smooth and soft, I find it irresistible. The second movement benefits even more. Lucchesini makes the piano sing. His take is so lyrical and beautiful, and he creates such an amazing ethereal sound world, that Lucchesini manages to evoke the same type of transcendental, philosophical feel usually reserved for the last three sonatas and the Adagio from the 106. His timings are only seconds off (longer in the opening, shorter the second movement) from Ashkenazy, yet Ashkenazy seems to take longer and makes the piece sound too long for its content. Lucchesini makes it fly by. Lucchesini triumphs here.
The Op 101 sonata finds both pianists at something less than their best. Ashkenazy opens the work by playing surprisingly softly. The entire first movement sounds lovely and shows that he can play in whatever fashion he wants. For all that, it’s not compelling. The second movement march is strongly played, Ashkenazy’s strength and focus coming to the fore, but from there on it’s something less than the best. Neither the Adagio nor the concluding movement have much in the way of feeling or philosophical insight; it’s well played but conservative and not exactly exciting. Lucchesini opens the work more strongly than I would have thought, with some sharp, pointed playing (well, at least for him) and some moderately quick tempi in places. The march is too slow, flowing, and soft to be maximally effective. The Adagio comes off fabulously, Lucchesini once again applying his strengths to maximum benefit, and the final movement starts out with promise. As with the preceding sonata, he brings a certain transcendental, philosophical feel usually reserved for the last works, but, alas, this feeling doesn’t stay for the duration. There’s a sense of wandering here and there, and my attention certainly wandered. This is a tough one to pull off, and while both pianists do well, better can be had elsewhere.
For the Hammerklavier I decided to listen to Lucchesini first. His version is long, taking over 47 minutes, so I wondered how he would maintain the musical tension. Quite well, it turns out. The opening movement is long at over 12 minutes, but the playing never seems slow and the movement never seems long. Lucchesini prefers to let the large-scale writing unfold at a comfortable place, and he plays both strongly and beautifully. The second movement is more conventional in both speed and attack – this movement is delivered with some aggressive playing, though it never tips over into hardness. The great Adagio is very long at over 20 minutes, and Lucchesini is most at home here. His playing is beautiful and clear, his phrasing simultaneously (relatively) subdued and communicative. He achieves a nice late-Beethoven sound. The final movement is played with formidable dexterity and power, though Lucchesini’s playing remains beautiful and smooth. For all of the attractive elements, though, it never really amounts to a great recording; it never jells into something greater than the sum of its movements. This is one of the most difficult of all sonatas to make compelling from start to finish, and Lucchesini does not join the ranks of the greats. Neither does Ashkenazy’s recording. Here his tendency to play it safe is on uninspiring display. As one would expect from this pianist, everything is well played. He has no trouble handling any part of the score, and he plays with decent power and contrast between sections, and so on, but it’s mostly bland. I was really expecting more of a virtuoso show in the opening two movements, but instead got well timed and ultimately bland playing. The Adagio epitomizes Ashkenazy’s playing – perfectly executed but lacking a musical soul or focus of interest. He plays beautifully hear, and introspectively there, and so on, but I just never got into it. Only in the concluding fugue does Ashkenazy really com alive. His playing is meticulous, strong, fast, and downright thrilling at times, but it is too little, too late. Of the two versions, I prefer Lucchesini, but neither recording is a highlight of either cycle.
Moving to the 109, I again opted to hear Lucchesini first. I had higher hopes for this work, particularly the final movement. I more or less got what I expected. Lucchesini plays the opening movement is a pretty straight-forward manner, with all of his standard tools in use. Perhaps it could have used a bit more kick in places, but it’s solid. The second movement is rather smoothed out with Lucchesini lovely legato and constrained dynamics making it more fluid than is often the case. The final movement, though, is strong. The Andante opening is gorgeous in parts, and Lucchesini’s control and concentration are superb. Most of the movement is taken at a slow tempo, which allows everything to unfold in a most attractive way, but some may find it less appealing. Lucchesini does zip through parts of the middle section with notable assurance before returning to his slow ‘n’ beautiful playing. The final reappearance of the Andante theme is ravishing, and Lucchesini ends the work with two chords played soft and softer, each one timed to perfection. The listener has to be in tune with Lucchesini’s style, otherwise some things may be lost, but I enjoyed it. After a couple uninspired sonatas, Ashkenazy finds his inspiration again in this one. The opening movement is only partially successful, with Ashkenazy playing with that contemplative, meditative quality that marks most successful recordings, but that playing is interspersed with more pedestrian playing. When he’s playing swifter, more complicated passages he seems to lose focus just a tad. The second movement finds Ashkenazy once again playing at his formidable best: the playing has his hallmark power and control, and the whole thing is striking if perhaps a bit shallow. The final movement, though, is excellent. Ashkenazy brings out that late-Beethoven sound world in near perfect form. He doesn’t play too hard, too fast, too slow, too anything, really. There are no one or two things that jump out; the whole thing works. But it still isn’t quite a top contender. Ashkenazy needs to nail every part of the sonata for that to happen. So, another pair of good if not top-notch recordings, this time with Ashkenazy getting the nod.
For the 110 I started with Ashkenazy. (I was too lazy to get up and change CDs.) Whereas his 109 is pretty strong throughout, his 110 is bland. Once again he’s in play-it-safe territory, with nothing of great interest coming to the fore. He opens more softly than I would have thought, but he manages to make that lovely opening sound quite nice. In contrast to the 109, here he plays the second movement in a soft, tame manner. There are no sparks. As he moves into the final movement (here broken into two movements, though this movement can be carved up a few different ways), he plays with a nicely disconsolate manner at the outset, and then moves into a well played but rather boring fugue. His fingers hit all the notes, but it just doesn’t ignite. In the passage where many pianists build up the repeated chords with increasing power, ending with a fortissimo outburst, Ashkenazy goes for a bland, safe, surprisingly restrained sound. From there to the ending it’s more of the same old safe playing. It’s not a bad recording, but it’s just not very insightful. Lucchesini, on the other hand, delivers a superb rendition of the work. He plays the piece in a style completely consistent with what I’ve described before – it is beautiful, with gorgeous legato, generally soft-ish playing, with power and speed only when needed. The opening movement is taken at a perfect pace; a bit on the slow side, Lucchesini makes it sound perfect. His tender playing is a wonder to hear. The second movement is played more powerfully, with appropriate contrast, and enough forward momentum to satisfy those who prefer a more driven approach. The final movement opens with a slow, ravishing Adagio that segues to a slow-ish, perfectly controlled and reasonably clean fugue. He could be faster in places, with a bit more intensity, but overall it is quite fine. When Lucchesini builds up the chords, it is in a wonderfully controlled and powerful fashion, but when he builds up the tension at the end of the piece, ending in an immense wash of beautiful notes, the effect is remarkable. The listener isn’t really very conscious of the gradual increase in volume until he lets the last chord linger into silence – and he holds it just long enough. This is an extraordinary performance, though it doesn’t quite scale the heights of a few other recordings. Here’s another work where I prefer the young(ish) Italian.
For the last sonata I decided to go for Lucchesini first. I had some concerns that he may play the opening movement too softly, but my concerns were put to rest quickly. He opens with perfectly judged playing, never letting any note linger too long and never cutting anything short. His staccato playing is pointed and his sforzandi are strong if not too cutting. The ominous chords in the second half of the movement are all delivered with a satisfying heft and darkish hue, though more imposing takes are available. But the opening movement is a success. The second movement starts off very strong, with a predictably beautiful Arietta, and then Lucchesini proceeds to play wonderful, at times miraculous, but also at times less than optimally enthralling music. The weaknesses first. Lucchesini does not create that transcendent, uncentered, ethereal sound world that the best interpreters muster, at least in the first half of the movement. He does a much better job later on. Okay, that’s just one weakness, but that’s about all I can muster. Now to the strengths. The soft playing about midway in is simply a marvel; Lucchesini’s delicate and nuanced playing captivates, each note perfectly delivered. The ending of the movement does invoke that spiritual aspect that I so admire in this work, making for a satisfying end. Elsewhere, Lucchesini plays with admirable strength, restraint, and speed where these traits are most needed. While not as magical as the very, very best, Lucchesini offers up a strong conclusion to a strong cycle. Things are not so rosy with Ashkenazy. I once read his playing reduced to one overriding pejorative: leaden. He’s certainly that at the very beginning. His playing is heavy and ponderous, with little or no life to the notes. As the opening movement unfolds, Ashkenazy predictably plays up the dynamic contrasts with some powerfully playing, with a clear, incisive staccato. The ominous chords thunder, the fast parts whiz by. But it still doesn’t ignite. The second movement offers more of the same. The Arietta is played quite nicely, and the rest is played ably, but Ashkenazy doesn’t really revel in the delicate music, not does he add much interpretive heft to the rest of the movement. It’s all very well played, there’s no doubt of that, but it’s all very safe. In this of all sonatas, that just will not work. I’ve heard worse, but I’ve heard much better.
Two more cycles down, so it’s overall assessment time. I’ll start with Ashkenazy. His cycle is a straight-forward, safe, middle of the road cycle where the pianist takes few risks. Indeed, if one takes away the huge dynamic range and few flashes of virtuosic playing, there is little to point to this being Ashkenazy’s set. It could be any talented pianist contracted to lay down the works. It is well played, well recorded, but ultimately too safe and undistinguished. Lucchesini, on the other hand, does take risks. But not in the normal sense. He doesn’t adopt unusually fast tempi, he doesn’t resort to flash and overwhelming power, he doesn’t set out to make this the Deepest, Greatest, Most Profound Music Ever. He offers a thought out, smooth, warm, beautiful approach that nearly sings at times. Yes, Beethoven can (and some might say should) have more bite and drive and oomph in places, but Lucchesini plays well enough to make his vision a convincing one. Indeed, of the ten new cycles I’ve heard since the spring, Lucchesini’s joins Gulda’s Amadeo cycle and Heidsieck’s cycle as one of the most compelling and unique experiences I’ve had with this music. Lucchesini does not attain the same truly awesome level of artistry that Gulda does (very few do), and he’s not quite as idiosyncratic as Heidsieck, and it can take some adjustments to get into his style, but the rewards are substantial and worth the minimal effort and outlay. (For those who may wish to hear this set, I must reemphasize that you will not be wowed; you must allow yourself to be drawn into the music.) Perhaps most importantly, when considered along with Alfredo Perl and John O’Conor, Lucchesini’s cycle proves that extraordinary Beethoven is still being played and recorded.
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I got underway with the Op 90 of course, and I opted to hear the elder pianist first. Trouble emerged immediately. Ashkenazy opens the piece in a heavy, lumbering way. He soon recovers and moves into a more conventional approach, though his playing and sound is a bit cutting. Things flow relatively smoothly, and a few times he brings his awesome power to the fore. The second movement is more subdued and straight-forward, but Ashkenazy also succumbs to the problem that plagues many of his slow movements: the music making is a little boring and plain sounding. He doesn’t do anything wrong, but he doesn’t bring anything especially valuable, either. And his playing doesn’t sing, and in this lyrical late sonata that is a problem. By contrast, Lucchesini more or less nails it. His more aurally beautiful, smooth, and somewhat soft and lyrical tone all work together to produce a glorious reading. He doesn’t open as strongly as the Russian, and throughout his dynamic range is narrower, but the trade-offs come elsewhere. First of all, if Lucchesini doesn’t play as loudly, he excels at adding more color and nuance further down the dynamic scale. His soft playing is incredibly beautiful and controlled. While some may find the opening movement too smooth and soft, I find it irresistible. The second movement benefits even more. Lucchesini makes the piano sing. His take is so lyrical and beautiful, and he creates such an amazing ethereal sound world, that Lucchesini manages to evoke the same type of transcendental, philosophical feel usually reserved for the last three sonatas and the Adagio from the 106. His timings are only seconds off (longer in the opening, shorter the second movement) from Ashkenazy, yet Ashkenazy seems to take longer and makes the piece sound too long for its content. Lucchesini makes it fly by. Lucchesini triumphs here.
The Op 101 sonata finds both pianists at something less than their best. Ashkenazy opens the work by playing surprisingly softly. The entire first movement sounds lovely and shows that he can play in whatever fashion he wants. For all that, it’s not compelling. The second movement march is strongly played, Ashkenazy’s strength and focus coming to the fore, but from there on it’s something less than the best. Neither the Adagio nor the concluding movement have much in the way of feeling or philosophical insight; it’s well played but conservative and not exactly exciting. Lucchesini opens the work more strongly than I would have thought, with some sharp, pointed playing (well, at least for him) and some moderately quick tempi in places. The march is too slow, flowing, and soft to be maximally effective. The Adagio comes off fabulously, Lucchesini once again applying his strengths to maximum benefit, and the final movement starts out with promise. As with the preceding sonata, he brings a certain transcendental, philosophical feel usually reserved for the last works, but, alas, this feeling doesn’t stay for the duration. There’s a sense of wandering here and there, and my attention certainly wandered. This is a tough one to pull off, and while both pianists do well, better can be had elsewhere.
For the Hammerklavier I decided to listen to Lucchesini first. His version is long, taking over 47 minutes, so I wondered how he would maintain the musical tension. Quite well, it turns out. The opening movement is long at over 12 minutes, but the playing never seems slow and the movement never seems long. Lucchesini prefers to let the large-scale writing unfold at a comfortable place, and he plays both strongly and beautifully. The second movement is more conventional in both speed and attack – this movement is delivered with some aggressive playing, though it never tips over into hardness. The great Adagio is very long at over 20 minutes, and Lucchesini is most at home here. His playing is beautiful and clear, his phrasing simultaneously (relatively) subdued and communicative. He achieves a nice late-Beethoven sound. The final movement is played with formidable dexterity and power, though Lucchesini’s playing remains beautiful and smooth. For all of the attractive elements, though, it never really amounts to a great recording; it never jells into something greater than the sum of its movements. This is one of the most difficult of all sonatas to make compelling from start to finish, and Lucchesini does not join the ranks of the greats. Neither does Ashkenazy’s recording. Here his tendency to play it safe is on uninspiring display. As one would expect from this pianist, everything is well played. He has no trouble handling any part of the score, and he plays with decent power and contrast between sections, and so on, but it’s mostly bland. I was really expecting more of a virtuoso show in the opening two movements, but instead got well timed and ultimately bland playing. The Adagio epitomizes Ashkenazy’s playing – perfectly executed but lacking a musical soul or focus of interest. He plays beautifully hear, and introspectively there, and so on, but I just never got into it. Only in the concluding fugue does Ashkenazy really com alive. His playing is meticulous, strong, fast, and downright thrilling at times, but it is too little, too late. Of the two versions, I prefer Lucchesini, but neither recording is a highlight of either cycle.
Moving to the 109, I again opted to hear Lucchesini first. I had higher hopes for this work, particularly the final movement. I more or less got what I expected. Lucchesini plays the opening movement is a pretty straight-forward manner, with all of his standard tools in use. Perhaps it could have used a bit more kick in places, but it’s solid. The second movement is rather smoothed out with Lucchesini lovely legato and constrained dynamics making it more fluid than is often the case. The final movement, though, is strong. The Andante opening is gorgeous in parts, and Lucchesini’s control and concentration are superb. Most of the movement is taken at a slow tempo, which allows everything to unfold in a most attractive way, but some may find it less appealing. Lucchesini does zip through parts of the middle section with notable assurance before returning to his slow ‘n’ beautiful playing. The final reappearance of the Andante theme is ravishing, and Lucchesini ends the work with two chords played soft and softer, each one timed to perfection. The listener has to be in tune with Lucchesini’s style, otherwise some things may be lost, but I enjoyed it. After a couple uninspired sonatas, Ashkenazy finds his inspiration again in this one. The opening movement is only partially successful, with Ashkenazy playing with that contemplative, meditative quality that marks most successful recordings, but that playing is interspersed with more pedestrian playing. When he’s playing swifter, more complicated passages he seems to lose focus just a tad. The second movement finds Ashkenazy once again playing at his formidable best: the playing has his hallmark power and control, and the whole thing is striking if perhaps a bit shallow. The final movement, though, is excellent. Ashkenazy brings out that late-Beethoven sound world in near perfect form. He doesn’t play too hard, too fast, too slow, too anything, really. There are no one or two things that jump out; the whole thing works. But it still isn’t quite a top contender. Ashkenazy needs to nail every part of the sonata for that to happen. So, another pair of good if not top-notch recordings, this time with Ashkenazy getting the nod.
For the 110 I started with Ashkenazy. (I was too lazy to get up and change CDs.) Whereas his 109 is pretty strong throughout, his 110 is bland. Once again he’s in play-it-safe territory, with nothing of great interest coming to the fore. He opens more softly than I would have thought, but he manages to make that lovely opening sound quite nice. In contrast to the 109, here he plays the second movement in a soft, tame manner. There are no sparks. As he moves into the final movement (here broken into two movements, though this movement can be carved up a few different ways), he plays with a nicely disconsolate manner at the outset, and then moves into a well played but rather boring fugue. His fingers hit all the notes, but it just doesn’t ignite. In the passage where many pianists build up the repeated chords with increasing power, ending with a fortissimo outburst, Ashkenazy goes for a bland, safe, surprisingly restrained sound. From there to the ending it’s more of the same old safe playing. It’s not a bad recording, but it’s just not very insightful. Lucchesini, on the other hand, delivers a superb rendition of the work. He plays the piece in a style completely consistent with what I’ve described before – it is beautiful, with gorgeous legato, generally soft-ish playing, with power and speed only when needed. The opening movement is taken at a perfect pace; a bit on the slow side, Lucchesini makes it sound perfect. His tender playing is a wonder to hear. The second movement is played more powerfully, with appropriate contrast, and enough forward momentum to satisfy those who prefer a more driven approach. The final movement opens with a slow, ravishing Adagio that segues to a slow-ish, perfectly controlled and reasonably clean fugue. He could be faster in places, with a bit more intensity, but overall it is quite fine. When Lucchesini builds up the chords, it is in a wonderfully controlled and powerful fashion, but when he builds up the tension at the end of the piece, ending in an immense wash of beautiful notes, the effect is remarkable. The listener isn’t really very conscious of the gradual increase in volume until he lets the last chord linger into silence – and he holds it just long enough. This is an extraordinary performance, though it doesn’t quite scale the heights of a few other recordings. Here’s another work where I prefer the young(ish) Italian.
For the last sonata I decided to go for Lucchesini first. I had some concerns that he may play the opening movement too softly, but my concerns were put to rest quickly. He opens with perfectly judged playing, never letting any note linger too long and never cutting anything short. His staccato playing is pointed and his sforzandi are strong if not too cutting. The ominous chords in the second half of the movement are all delivered with a satisfying heft and darkish hue, though more imposing takes are available. But the opening movement is a success. The second movement starts off very strong, with a predictably beautiful Arietta, and then Lucchesini proceeds to play wonderful, at times miraculous, but also at times less than optimally enthralling music. The weaknesses first. Lucchesini does not create that transcendent, uncentered, ethereal sound world that the best interpreters muster, at least in the first half of the movement. He does a much better job later on. Okay, that’s just one weakness, but that’s about all I can muster. Now to the strengths. The soft playing about midway in is simply a marvel; Lucchesini’s delicate and nuanced playing captivates, each note perfectly delivered. The ending of the movement does invoke that spiritual aspect that I so admire in this work, making for a satisfying end. Elsewhere, Lucchesini plays with admirable strength, restraint, and speed where these traits are most needed. While not as magical as the very, very best, Lucchesini offers up a strong conclusion to a strong cycle. Things are not so rosy with Ashkenazy. I once read his playing reduced to one overriding pejorative: leaden. He’s certainly that at the very beginning. His playing is heavy and ponderous, with little or no life to the notes. As the opening movement unfolds, Ashkenazy predictably plays up the dynamic contrasts with some powerfully playing, with a clear, incisive staccato. The ominous chords thunder, the fast parts whiz by. But it still doesn’t ignite. The second movement offers more of the same. The Arietta is played quite nicely, and the rest is played ably, but Ashkenazy doesn’t really revel in the delicate music, not does he add much interpretive heft to the rest of the movement. It’s all very well played, there’s no doubt of that, but it’s all very safe. In this of all sonatas, that just will not work. I’ve heard worse, but I’ve heard much better.
Two more cycles down, so it’s overall assessment time. I’ll start with Ashkenazy. His cycle is a straight-forward, safe, middle of the road cycle where the pianist takes few risks. Indeed, if one takes away the huge dynamic range and few flashes of virtuosic playing, there is little to point to this being Ashkenazy’s set. It could be any talented pianist contracted to lay down the works. It is well played, well recorded, but ultimately too safe and undistinguished. Lucchesini, on the other hand, does take risks. But not in the normal sense. He doesn’t adopt unusually fast tempi, he doesn’t resort to flash and overwhelming power, he doesn’t set out to make this the Deepest, Greatest, Most Profound Music Ever. He offers a thought out, smooth, warm, beautiful approach that nearly sings at times. Yes, Beethoven can (and some might say should) have more bite and drive and oomph in places, but Lucchesini plays well enough to make his vision a convincing one. Indeed, of the ten new cycles I’ve heard since the spring, Lucchesini’s joins Gulda’s Amadeo cycle and Heidsieck’s cycle as one of the most compelling and unique experiences I’ve had with this music. Lucchesini does not attain the same truly awesome level of artistry that Gulda does (very few do), and he’s not quite as idiosyncratic as Heidsieck, and it can take some adjustments to get into his style, but the rewards are substantial and worth the minimal effort and outlay. (For those who may wish to hear this set, I must reemphasize that you will not be wowed; you must allow yourself to be drawn into the music.) Perhaps most importantly, when considered along with Alfredo Perl and John O’Conor, Lucchesini’s cycle proves that extraordinary Beethoven is still being played and recorded.
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