Yves Nat Plays Beethoven

Another night, another lucky seven sonatas. Tonight started much more promisingly. Indeed, Nat’s reading of the night’s opener – the Op 13 – is a great recording, plain and simple. Here he brings all of his strengths together in a passionate yet controlled reading to excite. This work can be played any number of ways, including an appropriately pathetic way, but Nat’s is more about fiery intensity and urgency. While neither dizzyingly fast nor overwhelmingly powerful, Nat brings enough of each of those traits to render a near-edge-of-the-seat performance. I hung on every note, and even when playing slowly, he captivates. His technical lapses are once again noticeable, but utterly irrelevant. More troublesome is the worst sound in the fourteen sonatas I’ve listened to. Much spurious noise can be heard, and it sounds as though at least part of the transfer was made from a less than pristine condition LP. Wouldn’t you know it – the best performance has the worst sound.

But don’t take that to mean that the Op 14 sonatas aren’t spectacular. They are! These 1953 recordings (along with the Op 22) are the best sounding of the cycle thus far, and they find Nat in better technical form. There are a few minor slips, but nothing detracts from the supreme music making. In both of these works he plays relatively briskly. Not as briskly as Gulda, but definitely briskly for Nat. And his strong left hand is on display again, but only and always to serve up nothing more than a delicious underpinning for the even tastier melodies that Beethoven spins out. The runs and figurations sound nearly effortless, and if Nat maintains a sober, serious sound overall, a few instances of relative levity make themselves known. I was expecting something more akin to the Op 10 works, but what I got was some truly top-notch playing that compares to the best around. Okay, I still prefer Gieseking and Richter, but Nat joins the short list after those two.

Three remarkable performances in a row give way to merely outstanding one. Nat’s Op 22 again demonstrates his traits – serious, slower, heavier, richer playing that never or at least almost never veers into ponderousness – to extraordinary effect. He opens a little on the slow side but quickly picks up the pace, winding his way through the first movement with, well, brio, and introducing an eminently tasteful and well-nigh flawless rubato deployed in just the right measure at just the right times. He’ll bring out an interesting point here and a serious one there, and, just when you think his variety can’t be bettered, he’ll sock it to you with a witty little phrase punched out right after some serious note spinning. His lower register playing is pronounced but not as relatively pronounced as elsewhere; he keeps thunder in abeyance so as to never muddy anything further up the ivories. Perhaps French pianists have a special affinity with this piece, but whatever, this is a superb reading and if it just barely misses out on top honors, it assumes a place of honor after Pommier and Gulda.

As if to show that no one can keep a streak alive for too long, the Op 26 is not quite so successful. Oh, sure, the opening is strong, with some of the variations taken at an exhilarating pace, and the funeral march is suitably funereal, and the ending satisfies. But it still misses that extra little something. Part of the problem may be the slips, particularly in the funeral march. Nat is not bad, mind you, but some of the slips seem to be too much. (Perhaps he’s telegraphing – really telegraphing – a desynchronization of the hands, but mostly it sounds like less than exemplary pianism.) Nat again deploys his tasteful rubato to good effect, but it cannot prevent me from saying that this work is a relative let-down. It’s still good, but it’s bettered by the surrounding works.

And the works on the aft side are remarkable. Nat nails both of the Sonatas quasi una fantasia. The first, much my favorite of the two, is dashed off with charm, wit, humor, power, richness, speed, a tad more power, and a sense of fun. Nat adopts a brisk, choppy approach, and if perhaps the final movement doesn’t exactly sound as lyrical as I like (and thus, for me, not quite as fantastic as my ideal), he nonetheless knocks this one out of the park. Open to close, he’s on and he’s on fire. The Mondschein fares quite well, too. The opening is somber and dark, just like I like it, the second movement offers a rest of sorts, and the conclusion is fast, driven, and pungent. Nat’s tone takes on a clangy, sharp sound in the closing movement, but the swift, unstoppable rolling notes build enough momentum to carry it to the end without a real complaint. Yep, I like these. So, while Nat shows signs of minor inconsistency, the overall level of achievement seems to me even higher than last night. I can’t wait to dig into some of the big works coming up.

Night three saw a slight diminution in the number of sonatas ingested – I cut back to a half dozen. But as we all know, quality is more important than quantity. And four of the six morsels, well, they’re musical meals unto themselves! The Pastorale! The Op 31 Triumvirate! Oh my!

Alas, this evening did not get off to the start I had hoped for. The problems with Op 28 sonata are apparent from the get-go. Nat opens slowly, heavily, and, truthfully, somewhat ponderously. I suppose I can live with the slowness, but the deliberate, overemphasized left hand chords distract, and the rubato detracts. I don’t mean to make it sound as though Nat kills the piece – he doesn’t – it’s just that when I think of the other fine versions on offer, this one is lacking. The inner movements both sound appreciably better, and more in line with the nature of the piece, or at least how I like it. Nat is tauter than ideal at times, and he still brings some force to bear on them keys, but ‘tis all good. Alas, the closing movement is not. It suffers from the opposite fate of the first movement – it’s too fast, though it, too, has some hefty left hand playing. I want more grace and lyricism. Indeed, that’s what I want for the whole piece. Well, as has been my experience with every LvB sonata cycle, no pianist can play them all equally well.

Fortunately, things pick up in the mighty trio. Nat does a superb job of making each work sound unique and remarkable in its own right, while still making them sound as though they are temporal brethren. For the first sonata, Nat eases up a bit, by which I mean he discards his generally serious tone for a lighter, brighter, and, hell, funner (yes, funner; I’m just gonna use that word) sound. He plays most everything for fun, and brings out all those little figurations with a hint o’ delight, and when he plays that long trill, well, it’s peachy. Other approaches to this work are just as valid, and a decidedly weightier approach can pay dividends, but this one is fine by me.

The second of the triplets is suitably darker. Nat relishes the minor key piece, and he thrives on the stark contrasts and mood swings within the work. Tempestuous this! His bold left hand comes in handy many times, and his rubato, definitely from a world gone by, aids in the effort too. If perhaps his technique shows a few signs of faltering, that matters not one bit in the face of his stormy, dynamic reading. Gulda rather handily trumps him, but Nat is no slouch. Not at all.

So that leads to the concluding sonata. Is there a more quintessentially Beethovenian work? Think about it. Here’s a work that is obviously brilliantly crafted, but at times it sounds as though Beethoven thought most of it up on the spot. The piece will sort of amble along for a moment or two, then, all of the sudden and without reason or warning, Beethoven erupts into boisterous laughter on the keyboard, then contemplates his good humor, moves on to something seemingly more serious or perhaps truly serious, just to burst out in (rightfully) self-approving laughter a few moments later. His youthful prankishness and his middle period heroics collide happily. Only his late philosophical style goes missing. Nat is at home here, playing each part to near perfection, and seeming to enjoy the outbursts when they come.

This trio of sonatas is one of the critical components I use to assess the overall quality of a pianist in Beethoven. If a pianist botches this set, said pianist just ain’t no great Beethovenian. Nat succeeds in this set. I’m not ready to declare him a great Beethovenian just yet – after all, another dozen sonatas remain – but he does a splendid job. Of course, Gulda does a mind-blowingly great job, as does Annie Fischer, and a few others, but I did enjoy my time with these works.

That leaves the Op 49 works as something of an afterthought. Nat does well enough here, though perhaps he’s just a tad too heavy in the first sonata. The second sonata is plagued by ubiquitous, intrusive distortion, but the playing still sounds fine.

Another batch down, and Nat’s overall quality is coming into sharper focus. How good is he? Well, let’s just say that I must listen to more. Soon.


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Night four heard another six sonatas, and once again proved a tad uneven. The opening work this evening was the Waldstein, and this sonata more or less set the pace. On the positive side, Nat opens the work briskly and more or less keeps it that way. I generally prefer this work on the swift-ish side (though there are exceptions), and Nat’s fingerwork is plenty spiffy for me. Perhaps he sounds just a tad taxed at times, but such concerns are fleeting. The generally buoyant mood of the opening movement and the appropriately held back second movement, delivered in superb overall fashion, give way to a somewhat overwrought third movement. Nat again plays relatively swiftly, but as he pounds out some of the passages with some notable heft, the effect becomes slightly tiresome. He resorts to the same tricks time and again, offering less development and change that is ideal. All told, the sonata is very good, but it’s not a contender.

The same applies to Op 54. Nat again adopts a faster-is-better approach, and while such an approach can work – Richter makes it work wonderfully – the pianist must possess the technique to make it come off without a hitch and must be able to hold the musical line. Nat sounds too choppy at times. As he introduces a more robust, full-bodied sound akin to what Annie Fischer brings, he’s not up to snuff in that regard either. His passion is forced. Again, while hardly terrible, this ain’t no top tier recording.

The Appassionata fares no better. Again, it seems best to consider Nat as something of a blend of Richter and Ms Fischer in approach, lacking the control, speed, and precision of Richter, and the punishing (in a good way!) intensity of Saint Annie. The furies of the outer movements are rousing, but ultimately not satisfying enough. The slow movement is moving and searching, just not moving and searching enough. In this sonata, I admit to being extremely prejudiced: Annie Fischer blows all comers into the weeds as far as I’m concerned. Only Richter has mounted a suitable challenge to her sovereignty (and twice, at that!), but even he cannot unseat the regal musical deity. Nat more or less blends in with the crowd. Let’s just move on.

The two little ditties otherwise know as Op 78 and 79 suffer the same fate as the Op 54: they are overwrought. Though short, they ain’t dainty, but even so, they can be overplayed. Nat’s penchant for a powerful bass underpinning continues unabated here, and as one progresses through the works, such a standardized approach becomes limiting and stifling. A bit more nuance is needed, or at least an altered deployment of technical means. Op 78 is the less successful of the two, but even Op 79 doesn’t rise to meet the best. The opening, while charming in its way, lacks either the outright humor or detached circumspection to make it work. To Nat’s credit, though, the second movement is strikingly poignant. But that’s a rare moment of valuable insight.

So as I spun the Les Adieux, it was with lowered expectations. To my delight, Nat got back on my good side. His performance is excellent. The opening has a nice melancholy tinge to it, the second movement is expectant, and the finale resounds with, if not quite unabashed triumph and glory, than at least a marked improvement in mood. A few less than ideally secure passages, and a few oddly accented phrases notwithstanding, Nat is back in (near) top form. While it doesn’t rise to challenge the best of the best, it offers hope for the last half-dozen sonatas.

I don’t want to leave the impression that these are bad performances – they’re not – it’s just that Nat is relatively less impressive here, and in this most august piano repertoire, that will not do. Or it will at least be pointed out. Sound quality falls into the various categories already described. Well, six more to go. Can Nat end on a strong note, as it were?


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I’ll just get it out of the way early: Yves Nat is not great in late Beethoven. I wish he were, but he ain’t. The problems present themselves early, as it were.

The Op 90 is a bit odd. The opening movement isn’t ideally coherent, and if Nat can summon some impressive weight and a rich tone, it doesn’t really compensate for what’s lost. It’s difficult for me to pinpoint. His playing is generally good, but his phrasing, his emphases – they all sound as though he’s not in tune with the music. The second movement fares better, but that only serves to underscore the problems. Why was the first movement not of the same caliber? How does this make for a satisfying whole? The answer is: it don’t.

The 101 is similarly uneven, and it introduces an issue to be heard in the last three sonatas: Nat plays fast. Too fast. Now, that may seem odd given that I was so taken by Gulda’s similarly fast take on the works. But Nat is not Gulda. And Nat’s penchant for quickness shows why: he’s not as technically well equipped as Gulda. There are only a few audible slips of any consequence, but there is a sense much of the time that Nat is playing right at the very edge of his ability, and perhaps just beyond, and that his artistic conception therefore outpaces his digital realization. The first and third movements of this work suffer from this in a pretty clear fashion. His playing shows a sharper, harder staccato than in some earlier works, and while one can say that most of the notes are at least reasonably cleanly articulated, some of the themes and figurations sound congested or ever so slightly muddled. I’m certain a pianist could far more clearly describe what I heard, but that’s the gist of the problem. Compare him to someone with the skill of Pollini or Gulda, and the problem becomes clear enough. While he does better in the second and fourth movements, a sense of false profundity creeps in. Yes, this is deep, thought-provoking music, but Nat seems to not be probing deep enough. Not really.

Matters are more complicated in the Op 106. Nat’s conception is Big. His ten fingers comprise an orchestra in the opening movement. Alas, that orchestra is less the Berlin Philharmonic than some less talented, less well-funded orchestra from eastern France. His phrasing is bold. His sonorities, too. He plays fast and with some impressive power. But what he wants is outside his grasp. The same holds true for the second movement. The great Adagio fares better, with Nat offering a fine degree of control. False profundity nags at the listener, though. Nat liked – probably loved – this great music, but he doesn’t seem to be able to realize his ideas. The closing movement is not much better. Nat just cannot match more technically assured players for accuracy, or more devoted players for intensity. So one is left with a good but hardly outstanding interpretation. To his credit, Nat does offer some of the slower portions in a manner that suggests, very strongly, that he would have been a knock-out in Bach. But in this grand fugue, he’s not quite so accomplished. This is most certainly not a terrible Hammerklavier, but it’s not especially competitive in a very competitive field.

The last three sonatas all suffer from the too much speed and superficial depth, if you will. The 109 really does nothing for me. Nat’s playing is more assured here, the opening movement being dashed off quickly, the second as well, and the final movement variations do vary – from too quick to way too quick to rather unsatisfying. Op 110 is better, but only marginally. He opens the piece beautifully, but he then returns to his quick and shallow ways. When he builds up the repeated chords in the final movement, the whole passage goes by too quickly, and while he gets progressively louder as he should, he stagnates on a few repeated chords. The 111 is the least successful of the bunch. First up, at just a hair over 20 minutes, it’s just too fast. The opening movement is rushed, the dark chords sounding more harried than ominous. The second movement opens with a weak Arietta and then proceeds to offer a rushed progression to the end. During a few passages, Nat is very effective at conveying an ethereal, timeless quality, but those moments zip by too quickly for one to savor. The coda is decidedly uneventful, and uninformative to boot. Suffice it to say, Nat does not rise to the level of the greats here.

Perhaps I’m too hard on the recordings. Keep in mind, these are not bad recordings. I’ve heard worse. But these simply are not great recordings. If I am critical and nit-picky, it’s because this is late Beethoven. Only the very best will do. Good, exceptional, outstanding – these aren’t good enough. Greatness is the only acceptable level of achievement. Nat does not achieve greatness. To an extent, his cycle reminds me of fellow countryman Jean-Bernard Pommier (though Pommier’s technique is superior). Both pianists do exceptionally well – indeed, they’re both great or near great – in a few early sonatas and a good number of middle period sonatas. But when asked to scale the heights of the late works, they’re styles don’t really deliver. Some nice things can be heard, and I will spin Nat’s cycle again, but others have much more to offer. Compared to Friedrich Gulda’s Amadeo cycle, the short-comings of the Nat cycle prevent me from saying this is a great cycle. The strengths of the cycle – the Pathetique, the Op 14 works, Op 22, the two Sonatas quasi una fantasia, the Op 31 sonatas, Les Adieux – are strong enough for me to say that if you hanker for an alternative approach and can stand some variability in both playing and sound, then this set may very well be worth the outlay. As it is, I’m glad to have it, and it was well worth the price I paid. Hell, I could even see paying mid-price for it. But it is not a great cycle.


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