Yukio Yokoyama Plays Beethoven
Posted by: Todd A on 16 May 2005
When BRO first carried Yukio Yokoyama’s 12-CD set of Beethoven’s complete solo piano music, I passed. Never heard of the guy, I thought. Nor had anyone else. Why risk sixty whole dollars? Well, after finishing my first Friedrich Gulda Beethoven cycle and while my Yves Nat cycle was on order, BRO got the set back in for $24. $24! I saw no reason not to buy. I figured, worse case scenario, he’s no good, and I can trade this bad boy in for at least what I paid. Best case scenario, I find an undiscovered gem. So I went for it.
Being the curious sort, I looked around the net – after I had already ordered – to see if I could find any comments on Mr Yokoyama’s artistry, with a keen interest in his Beethoven. English language information and reviews are few in number. About the only thing I could find was a positive and perplexed review of a Chopin recital that Sony let languish in the can for years. The reviewer pondered why Sony would let such a fine recording languish. That was a good sign. But I was still a bit wary. Chopin, great though his music undeniably is, is not Beethoven. Perhaps there is a reason why Sony let the young Japanese pianist record almost all of Beethoven’s piano output (he’s also laid down a piano concerto cycle!), Chopin, and Liszt (he has recorded the Transcendental Etudes, as well) without engaging in a global PR blitz; perhaps Mr Yokoyama is a Japanese artist for the Japanese market, displaying traits that only the Japanese might admire fully. I wholeheartedly reject such notions, mind you: fine artists are fine artists, period. A&R folks sometimes see things differently, though. Still, there was a chance, and a pretty good one, of Yokoyama being a provincial artist not really capable of holding my interest.
That he most certainly is not. The young Yukio – he was born in 1971 – is a talented pianist who studied both in Japan and France, graduating from a conservatory in the land of cheese and whine, er, wine, at the age of 19. He studied with a number of French pianists (of course), including Vlado Perlemuter, so he should have learned something. He did. Like my favorite French pianist – Robert Casadesus – Yokoyama does not play in an overtly romantic way. He can and does let loose, but his overall approach is a more measured, more precise, more architectural approach than a heated, of-the-moment one. Generally, that’s what I like. (There are always exceptions, of course, like, oh, say, Annie Fischer.) He also has a fine technique, but he often chooses not to display it for the sake of displaying it. No, he deploys it in the service of the music.
Anyhoo – it’s time for the Beethoven. These twelve discs of music were recorded in eighteen days over a nine month period in 1998 and 1999, so Yokoyama got to lay down his initial thoughts on the works while still very much a young man. That’s not a bad thing, and with Gulda’s Decca cycle soon to be mine, I figured it would be worthwhile to hear how another young man, a half-century removed, plays the same music. He plays it well. Well, at least in what I listened to today. Rather than present the works chronologically, the twelve discs comprise all-Beethoven recitals, much as Claude Frank’s cycle does, so that meant that I needed to disc hop to obtain my objective. The set opens with Op 2/1. (It ends with Op 111, thus mirroring Mr Frank’s layout to a degree.) What a fine opener! Yokoyama is measured and restrained and presents everything lucidly, cleanly, and with just the right degree of tension, proper tempi, and enthusiasm. To an extent, this feels like a by-the-book recording: everything is obviously thought out and well-planned and, if perhaps not as spontaneous as some, it is still completely satisfying. He may lack Annie’s passion, and Gulda’s pointed, groovy style, but Yokoyama offers a peachy opener. “If only the next two are like this,” I though to myself, “I’ll be a happy man.”
They’re not. They’re better! The second sonata is infectiously buoyant and upbeat, Yokoyama relishing the alternating runs and delivering them with nary a note out of place. Each movement is joyously dispatched, but in a carefully crafted sort of way. While he’s a young man who very much enjoys this music (or at least that how it seems), he never lets his fingers get ahead of his mind or the music. All serves the greater good. Even better, the third sonata is just a joy. The opening is most certainly allegro con brio, and a few times Yokoyama gets to show what he can do as he lets some of the quicker, more virtuosic passages fly – though always under precise control – and he unloads some big-boned, big scale chords, too. The Adagio is slow, heavy-ish (but not ponderous), and, if perhaps lacking the probing depth that some older, more experienced pianists can bring to it, it nonetheless makes one contemplate the music, not the pianist. The scherzo and finale are both joyous and a joy to hear. So, the first three works are down, and a fine set they are. As a set, it does not match Fischer or Gulda, but it easily bests Nat, not to mention a number of others. It’s really superb. One thing of note is how unnotable much if it is. Yokoyama does not adopt especially fast tempi, nor does he favor slow ones. They’re just right. His dynamic range is wide but not amazingly so. His control is exemplary, not flashy. His tone is pretty straight-forward, favoring neither a lean, crisp sound, nor a rich sound, nor a heavy sound. It’s middle of the road, but blessedly so. In other words, Yokoyama is largely eccentricity-free.
Moving along finds a remarkable Op 7. Of the three new versions I’ve heard over the last few weeks, this is the best. Yokoyama adopts a flowing, graceful overall approach, bringing out the quasi-Pastorale feeling that I like. He still accents a few notes and chords sharply, but it all blends together in a most wonderful way. All the movements are cut from the same cloth, Yokoyama choosing to emphasize their coherence and unity as opposed to accentuating the differences. While this sonata can sometimes seem a bit long – and Yokoyama brings his in at over 28’ – here, it’s all over before one knows it. When the last notes rang out, I was in minor disbelief. How? How could it be over so soon?
The Op 10 works open with a slight decrease in quality. Sort of. Yokoyama opts for a not-too-fast opening, which is to say, a slow-ish and decidedly dramatic opening, an approach he applies to the opening of the third movement as well. In this sonata he allows himself more noticeable interpretive leeway, choosing to present this C minor works as a preview of the next C minor work. The outer movements can sound a bit heavier than ideal as a result, but the middle movement suffers not one bit. Indeed, I enjoyed how he’d hold on to a chord just a smidgeon longer than I’m used to, allowing the next melody to begin before finally releasing. A number of similarly nice touches can be heard throughout. It’s not bad – not at all – it’s just different from what I’m used to. The second sonata is more to my liking, Yokoyama taking a lighter, brighter approach. Something interesting happens, though: he opts not for quick speeds – some of the playing is deliberate, but in a decidedly positive way – but his, well, relaxed and joyful approach is irresistible. The final movement is most intriguing. It opens slowly, or at least slowly compared to some other versions, but each time the main theme is repeated, Yokoyama picks up the pace a little until he arrives at a nice pace and keeps it to the end. He chooses not to play the repeat, but it works. The final sonata is similar in overall approach, with especially and effectively buoyant and sunny outer movements flanking some more serious inner movements. The second movement is definitely played Largo and Yokoyama plays in a fashion that seems to portend that he will do very well in the late sonatas. The serious, slower tone carries over to the third movement, rendering it less than perfect, but it’s still enjoyable. As a set, Yokoyama does very well, though the slight inconsistency – good first, stellar second, near-stellar third – prevents me from placing him in the upper echelon. He’ll have to settle for merely superb.
The first of the big name sonatas comes off reasonably well. First off, this is a young man’s take, emphasizing athleticism and quickness rather than depth and pathos. If you hanker for the latter, this will probably not satisfy. His opening chord shows that he means business – it’s strong and he holds it a while. His fingers handle most of the more challenging parts of the score rather well, and if he does suffer a notable memory lapse in the first movement, it is easily and quickly forgotten. The middle and closing movements both support and further his view on the work, and he ends very strongly. Okay, it’s not the best, but in the Op 13 the competition is incredibly stiff and comes from the greatest pianists, so there’s not much shame in a young man not rising to the top.
I began the two Op 14 with high hopes, given Yokoyama’s take on the earlier works. The first sonata opened a little too slow for my liking, but that hardly precludes a given performance from being a good one. Yokoyama’s playing is alert, nuanced, and colorful throughout the first work, but it’s also just a bit cool and detached. It’s not that he doesn’t like the piece, or so it seems, it’s just that he doesn’t bring out the lightness I like. Even so, his clean, uncluttered, unaffected playing made it a pleasure to listen to. So I expected the second sonata to be similar. Instead, I heard a performance that knocked my socks off! Yokoyama is not quick. Not at all. He takes a measured, relaxed approach, and he plays just beautifully and with a splendid tone. But what really makes this sonata a success is his almost effortless, gliding feel. He knocks out the notes alright, but there’s a grace and subdued happiness throughout. It’s poofy, cloudy playing, though everything is clear. Nonsensical, perhaps, but that’s how it sounds. The second movement is as if from a dream. The finale is light, chipper, and clever. It’s all so wonderful that I never wanted it to end. But it does. No matter – this one’s getting played again as soon as I’m done with the whole cycle. (I may even be naughty and sneak a repeat in.) So, the Op 14 is a tale of two sonatas: one very good; one great.
Some readers may have noticed that I said Mr Yokoyama suffers a memory lapse in the Pathetique. That’s because, despite no mention in the pitifully scant liner notes, the performance sounds as though it were recorded live. Many of them do. I’d almost be willing to bet that the whole set is. How else to accommodate so much music into eighteen working days? There are some tell-tale signs: some coughing here and there, as well as some other extraneous noises. No applause ever intrudes, but careful editing and obedient audiences can account for that. The sound on all of the recordings thus far is a tad on the bright side, and lower-register weight is a bit lacking. Everything is mostly clear, a few passages where sound becomes a bit congested notwithstanding. (Such passages seem to point to live recordings, too; surely no Sony engineer would allow this to pass in the studio.) The piano used (I’m betting a Yamaha) is not ideally voiced, producing muted color and a bit of clang from time to time. I don’t think it’s Yokoyama – the sound occurs at seemingly random times, and not always during the loudest passages. Minor misgivings aside, this cycle has started out in a most promising way. And this time I have all those tasty variations and bagatelles to look forward to too. Perhaps I’ll listen to some more tomorrow, who knows?
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Being the curious sort, I looked around the net – after I had already ordered – to see if I could find any comments on Mr Yokoyama’s artistry, with a keen interest in his Beethoven. English language information and reviews are few in number. About the only thing I could find was a positive and perplexed review of a Chopin recital that Sony let languish in the can for years. The reviewer pondered why Sony would let such a fine recording languish. That was a good sign. But I was still a bit wary. Chopin, great though his music undeniably is, is not Beethoven. Perhaps there is a reason why Sony let the young Japanese pianist record almost all of Beethoven’s piano output (he’s also laid down a piano concerto cycle!), Chopin, and Liszt (he has recorded the Transcendental Etudes, as well) without engaging in a global PR blitz; perhaps Mr Yokoyama is a Japanese artist for the Japanese market, displaying traits that only the Japanese might admire fully. I wholeheartedly reject such notions, mind you: fine artists are fine artists, period. A&R folks sometimes see things differently, though. Still, there was a chance, and a pretty good one, of Yokoyama being a provincial artist not really capable of holding my interest.
That he most certainly is not. The young Yukio – he was born in 1971 – is a talented pianist who studied both in Japan and France, graduating from a conservatory in the land of cheese and whine, er, wine, at the age of 19. He studied with a number of French pianists (of course), including Vlado Perlemuter, so he should have learned something. He did. Like my favorite French pianist – Robert Casadesus – Yokoyama does not play in an overtly romantic way. He can and does let loose, but his overall approach is a more measured, more precise, more architectural approach than a heated, of-the-moment one. Generally, that’s what I like. (There are always exceptions, of course, like, oh, say, Annie Fischer.) He also has a fine technique, but he often chooses not to display it for the sake of displaying it. No, he deploys it in the service of the music.
Anyhoo – it’s time for the Beethoven. These twelve discs of music were recorded in eighteen days over a nine month period in 1998 and 1999, so Yokoyama got to lay down his initial thoughts on the works while still very much a young man. That’s not a bad thing, and with Gulda’s Decca cycle soon to be mine, I figured it would be worthwhile to hear how another young man, a half-century removed, plays the same music. He plays it well. Well, at least in what I listened to today. Rather than present the works chronologically, the twelve discs comprise all-Beethoven recitals, much as Claude Frank’s cycle does, so that meant that I needed to disc hop to obtain my objective. The set opens with Op 2/1. (It ends with Op 111, thus mirroring Mr Frank’s layout to a degree.) What a fine opener! Yokoyama is measured and restrained and presents everything lucidly, cleanly, and with just the right degree of tension, proper tempi, and enthusiasm. To an extent, this feels like a by-the-book recording: everything is obviously thought out and well-planned and, if perhaps not as spontaneous as some, it is still completely satisfying. He may lack Annie’s passion, and Gulda’s pointed, groovy style, but Yokoyama offers a peachy opener. “If only the next two are like this,” I though to myself, “I’ll be a happy man.”
They’re not. They’re better! The second sonata is infectiously buoyant and upbeat, Yokoyama relishing the alternating runs and delivering them with nary a note out of place. Each movement is joyously dispatched, but in a carefully crafted sort of way. While he’s a young man who very much enjoys this music (or at least that how it seems), he never lets his fingers get ahead of his mind or the music. All serves the greater good. Even better, the third sonata is just a joy. The opening is most certainly allegro con brio, and a few times Yokoyama gets to show what he can do as he lets some of the quicker, more virtuosic passages fly – though always under precise control – and he unloads some big-boned, big scale chords, too. The Adagio is slow, heavy-ish (but not ponderous), and, if perhaps lacking the probing depth that some older, more experienced pianists can bring to it, it nonetheless makes one contemplate the music, not the pianist. The scherzo and finale are both joyous and a joy to hear. So, the first three works are down, and a fine set they are. As a set, it does not match Fischer or Gulda, but it easily bests Nat, not to mention a number of others. It’s really superb. One thing of note is how unnotable much if it is. Yokoyama does not adopt especially fast tempi, nor does he favor slow ones. They’re just right. His dynamic range is wide but not amazingly so. His control is exemplary, not flashy. His tone is pretty straight-forward, favoring neither a lean, crisp sound, nor a rich sound, nor a heavy sound. It’s middle of the road, but blessedly so. In other words, Yokoyama is largely eccentricity-free.
Moving along finds a remarkable Op 7. Of the three new versions I’ve heard over the last few weeks, this is the best. Yokoyama adopts a flowing, graceful overall approach, bringing out the quasi-Pastorale feeling that I like. He still accents a few notes and chords sharply, but it all blends together in a most wonderful way. All the movements are cut from the same cloth, Yokoyama choosing to emphasize their coherence and unity as opposed to accentuating the differences. While this sonata can sometimes seem a bit long – and Yokoyama brings his in at over 28’ – here, it’s all over before one knows it. When the last notes rang out, I was in minor disbelief. How? How could it be over so soon?
The Op 10 works open with a slight decrease in quality. Sort of. Yokoyama opts for a not-too-fast opening, which is to say, a slow-ish and decidedly dramatic opening, an approach he applies to the opening of the third movement as well. In this sonata he allows himself more noticeable interpretive leeway, choosing to present this C minor works as a preview of the next C minor work. The outer movements can sound a bit heavier than ideal as a result, but the middle movement suffers not one bit. Indeed, I enjoyed how he’d hold on to a chord just a smidgeon longer than I’m used to, allowing the next melody to begin before finally releasing. A number of similarly nice touches can be heard throughout. It’s not bad – not at all – it’s just different from what I’m used to. The second sonata is more to my liking, Yokoyama taking a lighter, brighter approach. Something interesting happens, though: he opts not for quick speeds – some of the playing is deliberate, but in a decidedly positive way – but his, well, relaxed and joyful approach is irresistible. The final movement is most intriguing. It opens slowly, or at least slowly compared to some other versions, but each time the main theme is repeated, Yokoyama picks up the pace a little until he arrives at a nice pace and keeps it to the end. He chooses not to play the repeat, but it works. The final sonata is similar in overall approach, with especially and effectively buoyant and sunny outer movements flanking some more serious inner movements. The second movement is definitely played Largo and Yokoyama plays in a fashion that seems to portend that he will do very well in the late sonatas. The serious, slower tone carries over to the third movement, rendering it less than perfect, but it’s still enjoyable. As a set, Yokoyama does very well, though the slight inconsistency – good first, stellar second, near-stellar third – prevents me from placing him in the upper echelon. He’ll have to settle for merely superb.
The first of the big name sonatas comes off reasonably well. First off, this is a young man’s take, emphasizing athleticism and quickness rather than depth and pathos. If you hanker for the latter, this will probably not satisfy. His opening chord shows that he means business – it’s strong and he holds it a while. His fingers handle most of the more challenging parts of the score rather well, and if he does suffer a notable memory lapse in the first movement, it is easily and quickly forgotten. The middle and closing movements both support and further his view on the work, and he ends very strongly. Okay, it’s not the best, but in the Op 13 the competition is incredibly stiff and comes from the greatest pianists, so there’s not much shame in a young man not rising to the top.
I began the two Op 14 with high hopes, given Yokoyama’s take on the earlier works. The first sonata opened a little too slow for my liking, but that hardly precludes a given performance from being a good one. Yokoyama’s playing is alert, nuanced, and colorful throughout the first work, but it’s also just a bit cool and detached. It’s not that he doesn’t like the piece, or so it seems, it’s just that he doesn’t bring out the lightness I like. Even so, his clean, uncluttered, unaffected playing made it a pleasure to listen to. So I expected the second sonata to be similar. Instead, I heard a performance that knocked my socks off! Yokoyama is not quick. Not at all. He takes a measured, relaxed approach, and he plays just beautifully and with a splendid tone. But what really makes this sonata a success is his almost effortless, gliding feel. He knocks out the notes alright, but there’s a grace and subdued happiness throughout. It’s poofy, cloudy playing, though everything is clear. Nonsensical, perhaps, but that’s how it sounds. The second movement is as if from a dream. The finale is light, chipper, and clever. It’s all so wonderful that I never wanted it to end. But it does. No matter – this one’s getting played again as soon as I’m done with the whole cycle. (I may even be naughty and sneak a repeat in.) So, the Op 14 is a tale of two sonatas: one very good; one great.
Some readers may have noticed that I said Mr Yokoyama suffers a memory lapse in the Pathetique. That’s because, despite no mention in the pitifully scant liner notes, the performance sounds as though it were recorded live. Many of them do. I’d almost be willing to bet that the whole set is. How else to accommodate so much music into eighteen working days? There are some tell-tale signs: some coughing here and there, as well as some other extraneous noises. No applause ever intrudes, but careful editing and obedient audiences can account for that. The sound on all of the recordings thus far is a tad on the bright side, and lower-register weight is a bit lacking. Everything is mostly clear, a few passages where sound becomes a bit congested notwithstanding. (Such passages seem to point to live recordings, too; surely no Sony engineer would allow this to pass in the studio.) The piano used (I’m betting a Yamaha) is not ideally voiced, producing muted color and a bit of clang from time to time. I don’t think it’s Yokoyama – the sound occurs at seemingly random times, and not always during the loudest passages. Minor misgivings aside, this cycle has started out in a most promising way. And this time I have all those tasty variations and bagatelles to look forward to too. Perhaps I’ll listen to some more tomorrow, who knows?
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