Friedrich Gulda Plays Beethoven, Take 2
Posted by: Todd A on 02 June 2005
It finally arrived. The Decca cycle includes some early recordings of Mr Gulda, encompassing recordings ranging from 1950 (the Les Adieux) when Gulda was a mere twenty up through 1958. This cycle is therefore very much a young man’s take on the New Testament of the piano literature. While Gulda was hardly an old man at the time of his Amadeo recordings, he had time to mature, to work out ideas, to become more familiar with the music. It shows.
The set opens with very good readings of the Op 2 sonatas, yet I was keenly aware of how much more I like the Amadeo recordings the whole time. It’s hard to pin down exactly what the differences are. His overall approach is similar, his timings relatively close, though a few seconds slower across the board, and his tone is richer and more varied than in the later recordings. What gives? I thought. While I can’t call any of his playing stodgy, I find that Gulda is more restrained; he seems intent on playing this serious music in a serious way, or at least what he thought was serious in his early 20s. (The recordings for tonight are all from 1954.) So he’s clear and articulate, but not especially pointed. He’ll play the witty passages well, but without notable wit. He’ll play quickly when called for, but without great energy. Only with the last two movements of Op 2/3 does he seem to come alive in a fashion similar to his later recordings: he digs in, playing quickly, colorfully, with notable intensity at times, while never overdoing it. Don’t get me wrong, the first three sonatas are very well done, it’s just that they’re not up to the standard he would later set.
The Op 7 sonata fares relatively better. The opening movement is superb. Where I find his later recording too quick and not flowing enough, here it’s just about perfect. Gulda favors a moderately quick pace, and he produces streams of lovely sounding music. The second movement is likewise slowed down a bit, but here he plays in a contrived sort of way that makes the piece sound too episodic at times. The last two movements both receive a more satisfying take more akin to the opener. While still not in the uppermost echelon of interpretations of this work, I prefer this to the later recording.
The Op 10 sonatas are mixed. The first sonata is excellent, boasting a nicely fast and effective open – almost as good as his later recording – while finding a greater degree of flexibility later on. The second movement is a full minute longer than in 1967, and at times he stretches things perhaps a bit too much, but the drawbacks are minor. The conclusion is fine. The second of the set starts very well, with clean articulation and a generally peppy feel, and the second blends perfectly with the conception. The concluding Presto, though, sounds too deliberate. It’s slow, it’s stodgy, it’s contrived to try to make the music sound more serious (?) when it probably shouldn’t. The third sonata in the group is possibly the best of the bunch. Again, it’s slower than the later recording, but also more flexible – though not freer. He keeps the work light and reasonably brisk and ends strongly. Again, the Amadeo recordings are more enjoyable on a number of levels, but these three sonatas compare favorably to many other recordings.
Back to the flexible yet not freer thing: Though Gulda uses a wider color palette and more widely varying dynamic range – including some delicate pianissimo playing to catch ones fancy – everything is well-controlled and within pre-determined bounds. This is not of-the-moment Beethoven. This is thought-through Beethoven. Of course, so is the Amadeo cycle, but it’s almost like in the later cycle Gulda placed a narrower interpretive range, but then played everything within that range in the most pronounced, emphatic way possible. There’s less sense of hitting any limits here. One other thing that’s missing is the masterful sense of rhythm. Perhaps one can attribute this to less exposure to jazz, but whatever the cause(s), his playing doesn’t exert the same toe-tappin’ influence in this set. That’s not to say that the music is flat and lifeless, mind you, it just ain’t so groovy.
Sound is variable and not so good. At its best, it’s barely better than mediocre. I have a number of other piano recordings from the same era, and most exhibit more body, weight, and clarity. An above average level of hiss and frequency of drop-outs sullies things a bit from time to time. And in a few instances, the piano sounds so distant that it sounds as though it were a couple recording studios away. That written, the piano tone sounds attractive pretty much throughout.
At least with the early sonatas, I can say that I prefer the Amadeo cycle. But there are some fine things to be heard. I’m willing to bet there’s more good stuff to be heard going forward.
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Posted on: 03 June 2005 by Todd A
First a correction. Last night’s recordings were split over 1954 and 1955. All of tonight’s recordings were made in the last quarter of 1957. The now stereo sound is better than the mono recordings, though quite a lot of hiss can still be heard. A mere four sonatas were on the menu for tonight, and one word comes to mind: relaxed. Well, a phrase, really: relatively relaxed. Compared to the Amadeo recordings, the greater sense of flexibility in these earlier recordings manifests itself in less energy – nervous and otherwise – and less drive. I can see some people actually preferring the sonatas I listened to tonight to the later recordings, though I still favor the Amadeo set overall.
The Pathetique is actually a few seconds faster in this earlier recording, yet that relaxed sense is everywhere apparent. Gulda does not turn the work into a droopy, weak essay, but the lack of that last degree of dramatic oomph and the more delicately played softer portions differentiate it from the later recording. The Adagio cantabile is more attractive here, there’s no doubt, and if in faster passages he doesn’t simultaneously fly across the keyboard and pound out the notes, Gulda more than compensates with a more attractive legato and more intimate phrasing. This is less showy and more personal, though it’s not an overtly emotional reading. I must confess that I’m having a hard time determining whether this or the later recording is “better.” They’re sufficiently different and distinct to warrant hearing both at least a few more times.
The Op 14 sonatas, too, sound sufficiently different to warrant repeated listens. While neither as serious nor as groovy as the later recordings, the lighter approach actually makes the works sound more lively and sunnier. Gulda still dazzles with his precision and swiftness when necessary, but he’s more charming. And a more flexible approach and more variable touch creates effects largely missing in the Amadeo recordings.
The Op 22 is markedly more relaxed with about forty seconds more to enjoy in the opening movement and about a minute in the second. As a result, the work flows more smoothly, and the second movement, in particular, sounds more purely pleasing. More beautiful sounds are on offer, and Gulda’s tonal variety and subtle dynamic contrasts really help out. Only a somewhat hazy sounding recording hampers things at all. Again, this recording is different enough – and good enough – to be warmly welcomed to my collection.
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Posted on: 04 June 2005 by Todd A
Some of Gulda’s traits that are so pronounced in the Amadeo cycle start to show up in some of the middle works. Most notably, his sense of groove reappears in the Op 26 sonata. The opening two movements both have that rhythmic sureness that I so like, and the final movement sparkles with clear fingerwork, color, and drive. The great funeral march itself is not quite from the same mold. It is slow, somber, and perhaps a touch grandiloquent at times. Gulda plays in stately fashion, with discernible pauses and emphases to add more oomph. All told, it works splendidly, and I’m again having a hard time determining whether I prefer this or the Amadeo version.
The two Sonatas quasi una fantasia seem to be strengths for Mr Gulda. 27/1 differs from the later recordings in some important respects. The opening movement is slower and more, well, fantastic, if you will, its somewhat amorphous shape and sound creating a commendable sonic world that draws one in. Gulda plays less quickly and less punchy than he does at times in his later recording, but still the concluding movement contains enough energy to excite. Damned if it’s not another toss-up.
The Mondschein is even more fantastic, but not necessarily better. The opening movement is a hazy, blended sound world, Gulda riding the sustain pedal to accentuate the haziness. The second movement sounds pronouncedly slower and more dreamy than in either the Amadeo recording or the 1964 recording on Orfeo. The concluding movement is swift but more contained than the other two recordings. Of the three, I prefer the live recording, but this one fares well indeed.
The Pastorale offers a case where the earlier recording is just plain better. Gulda plays a bit slower here, and he also uses a richer, more varied approach with some notable low register playing to add body, buoyancy, and life to the piece. It flows wonderfully, nothing out of place, nothing sounding jagged. It’s not completely smoothed out, either. Gulda spins out the various themes in near-flawless fashion, and throughout he deploys his impeccable rhythmic sensibility to keep it moving forward – but never too quickly. This is one fine recording of this work.
When I listened to the Op 31 sonatas in the Amadeo set, I was more than pleasantly surprised. Gulda’s take on these three works are one of the highlights of that great set. It’s pretty much the same here, though the playing isn’t exactly the same. The first of the three opens even more quickly than in the later recording, but there’s a twist of sorts: the playing is uniformly lighter. No, Gulda doesn’t make this sound like salon music, but he does play with less drive and strength and more overt lightheartedness. It made me sit at complete attention, voraciously absorbing every fleet note and dashed off chord. The second movement, too is fast – still too fast to be Largo – and it keeps the same general tone. And man, are those long trills something! The final movement perhaps lacks the same degree of heft that the later recording has, but so what?
The Tempest is not as relatively successful; it’s merely outstanding. The first two movements lack the drama and intensity of the later recording, though Gulda’s take on the closing movement is completely satisfying in these regards. But like the later recording, his playing is remarkably assured, and this earlier recording enjoys a bit more lower register heft as well as color further up the spectrum.
The last of the Op 31 sonatas shares with the later recording notable swiftness. Again, Gulda plays more lightly and with greater variety. He makes the piece more upbeat and lively than perhaps some might like, and again some things are missed in Gulda’s astonishing playing, but it’s so much fun that I can’t help loving it.
The two Op 49 sonatas come off as more serious than the later recordings. The opening of the first sonata comes across as surprisingly pensive and weighty and seems quite at home among the middle period works despite its earlier provenance. The second movement is buoyant and sunny, but also forceful. The second sonata is not quite as serious, but still Gulda plays more seriously than some. The second movement with that delightful theme is played in an unusually mechanistic way, that while it takes some getting used to, nonetheless makes for a fun listen.
Sound on these recordings from 1957 and 1958 is generally good, but it sounds somewhat dim at times, without enough sparkle or bite in some of the high notes. A bit of haze mars the set, too, from time to time. At least that nice tone and some decent weight can be heard as an off-set.
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Posted on: 05 June 2005 by Todd A
The Waldstein is outstanding. Basically, take what I wrote about the Amadeo recording – fast, articulate, and none-too-romantic – and it applies here. Add a bit more tonal variation, greater weight, and more flexible rubato, and one has a fine reading. For all that, I must admit that I ever so slightly prefer the later recording, but this one will most assuredly receive more quality time with one or more of my CD players.
The Op 54 presents another case where the earlier recording surpasses the older one. Whereas in the Amadeo set the Op 54 is something of a letdown (in relative terms, of course), here it ain’t. In the first movement, Gulda opts for just the right tempi: not to fast and not too slow. He’s not especially intense, but he does offer clean playing and richer textures than in the later recording. The second movement is more forceful and intense and downright serious, but he never overdoes anything, always keeps the various musicals strands clear or at least clear enough. Just as it’s hard for to pinpoint exactly why the Amadeo recording is less successful, it’s hard for me to pinpoint why this one is more successful.
The 1958 Appassionata, too, fares better than in either of the two later recordings. It basically combines the best of both recordings, throws in a dash of youthful ardor, and is let down only by the ending. First of all there is Gulda’s speed and articulation, both traits bringing out the most in the piece, though less pointedly than in the Amadeo recording. A richer sound complete with some low-end heft as in his 1973 recording, and an even greater flexibility in phrasing, with some surging, intense, and yes, passionate playing, particularly in the first movement, coalesce to create a contender. The second movement is more contemplative and restrained, and the final movement bursts forth with passion, and the overall positive impression is reinforced until, well, until the end, when he cuts the third movement repeat. What a pity, because he was on a roll. But I’ll take the truncated take, thank you. Only some less than ideally clear sound hampers this otherwise outstanding recording.
The Op 78 and 79 sonatas both come off similarly to the later recordings. That is, they are richly, strongly, and quickly dispatched, though perhaps they sound a little more detached at times in these earlier recordings. There’s little reason not to recommend them.
The Les Adieux, the earliest recording in the set, is somewhat disappointing, but I suppose that should be expected. Gulda was only 20 when he made this, so this is a youth’s take on a mature work. Gulda plays very well technically, with everything under control and at times startlingly precise. But his take is ultimately a bit shallow. Where’s the rumination in the second movement? Where’s the exultant outburst in the finale? They’re there. More precisely, an approximation of them is there. It’s not bad, but it’s no match for the Amadeo recording, which itself doesn’t even scale the heights.
The Op 90 is relatively better, but it reminds me of the later recording quite a bit. Starting perhaps a bit too heavily, Gulda keeps everything serious and controlled and just shy of probing and interesting enough to make it a contender. There’s nothing really wrong with it, but there’s nothing especially noteworthy either. Neither the 81a or 90 are bad, but they seem to be a relative weakness for the pianist both young and not-quite-so-young. Well, there’s always the last five sonatas . . .
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Posted on: 06 June 2005 by Todd A
The Op 101 seems to be a strength of Mr Gulda’s. This earlier recording from 1958 is, if anything, even better than the Amadeo recording. He plays less quickly and with perfect timing, with every passage leading and moving flawlessly to the next, and Gulda’s control and precision are right on. The greater lower register heft adds a nice dimension to the piece, too. In the concluding movement, Gulda plays very strongly, offering wide dynamic range and contrast, and his rhythmic sense keeps the whole thing moving along. I suppose even deeper readings are available, but this one is one of the better ones I’ve heard. Definitely a keeper.
The Hammerklavier, however, suffers from the same problems that the Les Adieux does. Recorded in 1951, it’s very much a very young man’s take, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, there’s nothing especially right about it either. Gulda’s technique is more than up to the challenge, and he plays everything well, I suppose, and he keeps everything clear and articulate, but it’s missing that important something to make it special. It’s a bit shallow, never delving much below the surface. The first two movements can survive such an approach, I guess, but the Adagio cannot. Nor can the concluding fugue. I admit to growing a bit bored by the reading and sneaking a peek at the clock a few times. Well, more like a half-dozen times during the Adagio. This is a far cry from the stupendous Amadeo recording to be sure.
The last three sonatas all come off well, though the last two fare better than the first. Gulda plays the 109 more slowly than in the Amadeo cycle, though it is never too slow. Right from the start, he enters that abstract, philosophical, indeed almost spiritual world that characterizes these last three great works. But he also plays a bit too slowly at times. I’m not averse to a pianist altering tempi, but here the occasional slowness is accompanied by some rather heavy-handed playing that detracts from the work a bit. The second movement, in particular, suffers from this. Keep in mind that the short-comings are all relative; this is still a fine recording, it’s just not up to the very best.
I have no qualms whatever about the 110. Simply put, this is a great recording. Gulda perfectly judges tempi, phrasing, dynamics, and coloring. Them dynamics, they deserve special mention. Gulda demonstrates his remarkable artistry in pretty much every recording, and his ability to play softly while still maintaining a solid rhythmic drive and maintaining the musical line has been demonstrated elsewhere, but not quite at this level. In the first movement he plays at a whisper at times, but even at this barely audible level one detects tonal variation and subtle shifts in emphasis to stagger the imagination. He fully matches any pianist in this regard. In the slow opening and concluding fugue of the final movement, he plays so meticulously and with such perfect clarity that one is forced to sit in complete silence, holding one’s breath, just to take it all in. The mere thought of altering the volume or seat position to make hearing things even easier just will not do. That would mean a lapse in concentration, however brief, and this recording demands complete concentration from start to finish. It is one of the highlights of the set.
The 111 is another highlight, if not quite at the same level. Gulda allows himself more time to play this sonata than in the later recording, and he is more flexible, too. The opening movement is played with a near perfect mix of virtuosity and depth, the ominous chords never overbearing, the fast portion never too dashing. The second movement opens with a lovely Arietta and proceeds to work through the wonderful variations with clarity, power (when needed), and sensitivity, all while achieving that ethereal feel so important. Some others do play it more profoundly, to be sure, but this is competitive with not only Gulda’s later recording, but with a number of others as well. It certainly is a fine way to end the cycle.
Now that I’ve finished off both Gulda cycles, I guess the inevitable overall comparison must be made, and a final judgment about their relative quality, too. Well, I find that the Amadeo set is the more consistently satisfying set. It is bolder, more original and unique, and more informed by a coherent vision of the music. But then it was all recorded in the span of less than a year, and Gulda had been playing the music for decades by that point. The Decca cycle is more variable, though Gulda is more flexible. A few of the sonatas in the earlier set trump the later recordings, to boot. Still, the Amadeo set is the way to go for me, or it would be were I forced to choose. But I’m not forced to choose; I can have both! That, surely, is the only suitable situation.
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