Seymour Lipkin Plays Beethoven

Posted by: Todd A on 06 August 2005

Who next? I’m hoping HMV Japan comes through on the Backhaus mono set, but I needed something else to sate by demand for the 32. Options abound, and Barenboim and Kuerti beckon, but when browsing Overstock again I came across all three volumes of Seymour Lipkin’s recent cycle on Newport Classic. I’ve never heard of the guy, but the set has received some good reviews, so why not? Lipkin is an experienced player to say the least; turns out he’s now in his 70s and has been performing for a long time. His carefully crafted bio, which is almost the only one that pops up with an net searches, and the few other tidbits I found list Szell and Koussevitsky and Bernstein among those with whom he has collaborated; Serkin and Horszowski were both his teachers. His recorded output is pretty slim – he’s a Beethoven specialist with the concertos, sonatas, violin sonatas, and cello sonatas all on disc – but little else is out there. He is on one of the Bernstein Royal Edition discs playing Stravinsky’s Concerto For Piano And Wind Instruments and there are a few others, for those who want to hear him with a big name artist.

Before venturing into the recordings themselves, I must note that this cycle is different than any other. The potential buyer can choose to buy this cycle in one of two formats: in three 3-disc volumes on conventional CDs, or as MP3 files on one (yes, 1!) CD-ROM with complete sheet music included. At $30, that’s a bargain. I opted for CDs since, in terms of sound quality, MP3 really stands for Manure Pile Cubed. But for those listeners less concerned about sound quality of modern recordings, this may be the way to go. You can order either set directly from Newport Classic (http://www.newport-cd.com) or from your favorite shops, though the CD-ROM seems less easily available.

My usual practice is to listen to the sonatas in order, but this time circumstances conspired against me. My order of all three volumes was split in two. The early sonatas have not yet arrived, so I was faced with a few choices. Don’t listen until all sets arrive. That’s silly. Write up the reviews chronologically while listening out of order. (I occasionally mix up a sonata or two, but I mostly listen in order.) Nah, too much work. The final option is to write them as I listen to them. Easy and quick. So I started with Volume II.

So Op 22 became my first exposure to this pianist’s Beethoven. It’s a good place to start. Lipkin starts the piece off with a quick, vital approach, his playing lean, pointed, and clean. His tone isn’t the most ingratiating, and the sound is a bit sharp, but his basically intellectual approach reminds me to an extent of Friedrich Gulda. The Adagio shows where Lipkin’s age and experience come in handy. While not a very emotional piece, Lipkin’s phrasing and touch both hint at something more personal and moving just below the surface. The concluding two movements both sound more like the opener, and wrap up a damn fine start. No, he doesn’t match up to the best, and though he reminds me of Gulda a little, he ain’t Gulda.

Moving to Op 26 finds more of the same. Sparing use of the pedals and a sharp staccato lead to a choppy sound in parts, though the latter half of the first movement does flow nicely with a nice, rhythmic pulse. The second movement sounds lithe, with a satisfying ebb and flow. The funeral march is cool but dark hued, and if again there is a nice rhythmic pulse to it, it sounds neither funereal nor march like, and the dynamic range is limited. But I really liked it. Go figure. The final movement is quick, pointed, and vital and ends the work on a strong note.

The first of the Sonatas quasi una fantasia opens in manner that hardly sound fantastic; it’s direct, maybe a bit gruff. It’s provides the musical equivalent of a cold shower. A few missteps hardly detract from the surprisingly effective open. The second movement, while not as quick and definitely not as strong as some, is alert and vital. The third movement is quick – but not too quick – and though cool, reveals a bit of soul. For the finale, Lipkin opts to play quickly, with a rough and boisterous sound that is never overdone. Another successful sonata. The Mondschein again finds Lipkin using pedals in a relatively sparse fashion, so the hazy sound delivered by so many in the opening movement gives way to a more directly somber feel. The second movement is relatively slow, in the context of the recording and Lipkin’s approach, yet its lean, pointed and ultimately contained sound is quite refreshing. For the finale, Lipkin opts for a quick, sharp, staccato-laden approach again. While he doesn’t play the piece with great strength, the taut, rhythmically driven approach works to deliver yet another success.

Given the traits of Lipkin’s pianism, I was expecting a less than stellar Pastorale. Yet once again he manages to deliver a fine reading. The opening is just fine, if perhaps a bit choppier than I prefer. It also doesn’t really sing, but it is warmer than some of the preceding pieces. Lipkin takes some runs very swiftly, which works very well. The Andante opens with awkward tempi and phrasing, but improves as things progress. It does take some getting used to. The Scherzo is jaunty and rough, but works very well. The final movement is more standard in conception, being gentler and more traditionally beautiful. So, not a first choice, perhaps, but it is very good.

Crunch time. The critical Op 31 sonatas would help me determine if Lipkin’s got what it takes. Things start off well enough. The first of the bunch again opens with Lipkin’s lean, sharp playing, and the occasionally choppy and broken feel that brings are more than off-set by the rogue wit and charm. Indeed, his sound contributes to the feeling. In the second movement, the long trills are fine enough, but the left hand accompaniment throughout the movement can sound a bit stodgy and stubborn at times. Initially, I was less than enthusiastic, but Lipkin made a believer out of me with his perfectly judged deployment of this approach. The final movement is perhaps not ideally free, but clarity and insistence make it work. The Tempest ends up being a bit maddening. While lean and quick can make a great approach – I’m thinking Gulda here – Lipkin doesn’t deliver the recording I wished he could. His limited dynamics hamper the contrast in the first movement, and he sounds a bit labored in parts, though he no doubt intends this. The second movement sounds terse and cool, with little color. But it works, dammit. The final movement doesn’t swell with emotion and passion, either, but somehow, in ways I cannot fully understand, he makes the whole thing work. That shouldn’t be. But it is. The last sonata of the bunch is the best of the bunch. Lipkin opens the work with meticulous attention to detail, with each note and phrase given its due, but it ends up not being quite fluid or graceful enough. Instead, that roughish charm and with come to the fore. The second movement sounds a bit labored at times, but fortunately things pick up from there. The third movement, while not emotional on the surface, is subliminally touching. The final movement is a raucous good time. So, how to sum up this critical trio. I must confess that there are some things I don’t really like, yet Lipkin somehow manages to pull off something unique: even including the things I don’t like, he manages to make the works work. It’s the damnedest thing.

The two Op 49 sonatas are both fine. The first sonata is basically a straight run through with nary an unattractive quirk or bothersome device to get in the way. The second sonata is meatier. A solid opening, nice rhythmic drive, varied dynamics, and highlighted melodies all work splendidly. The second movement is just plain fun. Not lovely. Not lyrical. Fun. Cool.

In contrast to my initial concerns about the Pastorale, I had high hopes for the Waldstein. Right from the start those hopes were fulfilled. His sharp, pointed, lean style is everywhere evident, and he plays quick, quick, quick. No lyrical opening this. Lipkin adds a bit of heft to the mix, too. His playing also adopts an almost hectic feel. He never loses control, but he never sounds settled in. This extra little bit makes for a strong opener. The second movement ends up not sounding very moving, but it is entirely gripping. This leads to another “how does he do it?” moment, or did for this listener. The final movement opens softly and gently, for Lipkin, with expertly judged tempi and dynamics. The piece swells and moves along beautifully for a while, then it’s back to hectic mode. All told, at the end, this ends up being a remarkable recording.

So too is the final sonata in Volume II. The Op 54 sonata can of course be interpreted in many ways. Lipkin’s particular mix of devices and styles creates a new one. He opens with his Lipkinisms on display, with sharp but not overpowering sforzandi adding some zing. The first movement may not be lyrical, but it flows and invites the listener to pay close attention. The quick trills at just past 4’ in are just delicious. The second movement is gentler than Lipkin’s norm, though it’s still comparatively rough. The deliberate playing is very effective, and it is punctuated by some pretty nifty dynamic swings. Another winner.

To an extent, I have taken the view that Lipkin offers a nice foil to Andrea Lucchesini. Both players are a bit cool and detached at times, but Lucchesini opts for beautiful legato to deliver his message while Lipkin plays in a leaner, harder, more staccato-heavy style. Lipkin also manages something few pianists do: even if I disagree with some of his specific interpretive choices here and there, I cannot resist the overall result. Lipkin plays with such conviction and assured musical knowledge that it becomes impossible to find fault with performances with faults. That’s impressive indeed.

The recordings, which may be new or may date from a few years ago when Audiofon issued some of Lipkin’s recordings (anyone know for sure?) are all clear, bright, and close but not too close. Thank goodness I have twenty more to listen to.

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Posted on: 06 August 2005 by u5227470736789439
Don't oyu think that the "sharp tone" you describe might be a throw-back to Serkin (Rudolf), whose tone could definately seem that way after the moderating influence of Adolph Busch (his father in law) went out of his life? Indeed, it always saddens me that players should fail to realise that the least important and yet, completely essential part of the performance, is what Furtwangler refered to as tonal accuracy - by which he explained he meant addressing the colouristic aspects and appropriate tone colours in the playing. It simply will not do to play everything in a bright or soft tone. Each piece requires the performer to return to the score and base himself on that, and that includes the individual style of the composer AND the piece. Which naturally includes the tonal world required to bring the character of the music out, however perfectly all the primary aspects are addressed. Oh Dear! I am so picky about how the greatest music is played. A great performance tends to get out of the way, so that you no longer notice it or particular details or tempi of it. The music is presented as new minted rather than passed through the lense of the performer's vision or artistic or technical limitations.

You have said enough of Lipkin (and I beieve what you say), to rule out the effort of trying to listen to his recording. In fairness what you wrote about Lxxxx was enough to convince me that he ought to be auditioned, but generally Beethoven is not so well performed on the piano as he was a generation, or, even more so, two generations ago. That is so pessimistic! Could be something to do with why I only have one Sonata in stereo. [from Solomon].

Fredrik
Posted on: 06 August 2005 by Todd A
Lipkin's playing is no doubt influenced by Serkin, but he doesn't go quite so far as Serkin did at times. (And I'll take Lipkin's 27/1 over Serkin's.) Perhaps Horszowski's influence tempers things a bit. I find Lipkin's playing quite enjoyable at times, though I know his style isn't for everyone. The same holds true for Annie Fischer and Friedrich Gulda, two pianists whom I can hardly say play especially beautifully. Hey, at least Lipkin is orders of magnitude better than Øland. (But then, pretty much everyone is.)

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Posted on: 06 August 2005 by u5227470736789439
quote:
Originally posted by Todd Arola:
[...] Lipkin's playing [is] quite enjoyable at times, though I know his style isn't for everyone. The same holds true for Annie Fischer and Friedrich Gulda, two pianists whom I can hardly say play especially beautifully. Hey, at least Lipkin is orders of magnitude better than Øland. (But then, pretty much everyone is.)

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Dear Todd,

You get very close to my starting point: I rather like Annie Fischer's way, but it certainly is not always beautiful. Gulda simply is not my taste, but then we all differ! I am think there is a huge difference between a beautiful sonority and one which penetrates to the heart of the matter. I know we differ on thre quality of Schnabel's contribution, and he is an extreme example of what I am trying to highlight, but Edwin Fischer and Solomon Cutner, both manage a tonal address (as well as the less ethereal aspects of playing the technical side), rather well. Perfection is not the thing, but rather an attempt, varying though it may be, because of human frailty. Now I think, from what you have written, that Lxxx, probably has done the trick, and I intend to get that set, and I'll post my reaction if you are interested. You see I don't easily take to being expected to cope with an artist's reading of the greatest music that is not of the utmost, not of success, but of intent. So I can forgive the occasional odd (or even in Schnabel's case very odd! - like the Hammerklavier) failure, if the effort is pointing in the right direction. I know that begs the question of opinion, so I am very grateful that you should post about the "good, the bad, and the ugly," because I would never have the time or energy to listen to a Sonata cycle once a year let alone once as month. If Mr Lxxx is fine then I shall be releived as well as grateful. Where is Annie Fischer's cycle issued? I have had quite a bit of her Mozart over the years, and a live recording of the Beethoven Fourth Concerto which was so bad (as a recording) that it was unbearable, but I suspect if I still had it now I would enjoy it...

Don't think my perinickityness is aimed at you: certainly not, but I do wonder at the hubris of some players in recent times. The score seems secondary to their wish to create their version, which is a rather old-fashioned (pre-Schnabel) attitude, which is not that enlightening, I would think!

Thanks for you considerable work, bringing this sort of review to the light of day, Sincerely, Fredrik
Posted on: 06 August 2005 by Todd A
quote:
Originally posted by Fredrik H:
Where is Annie Fischer's cycle issued?




The various Amazons have it, as do a number of other net outlets. It's pricey, though - 9 full price discs.

I do understand where you're coming from in terms of taste and approach, and that's fine. I think for me, at this point, I just want to hear how Beethoven interpretation has evolved, to hear all I can hear. My elite sets, if you will, number only three, and perhaps when I am done with all of this listening I'll dump some others. (Well Ms Øland’s already has been.) But for now I just gotta have more.

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Posted on: 07 August 2005 by Todd A
Volume III opens with a blockbuster recording of the Appassionata. For those who want color, nuance, and subtlety, look elsewhere; for those who like an intense, driven, nearly frenzied approach, look no further. Since I admittedly favor the fast and/or intense approach, this is for me. Lipkin opens the piece fiercely, quickly, and in a decidedly unhappy mood. Nervous and tense, he never lets up, and if his playing sometimes comes close to sacrificing the musical line in favor of moment to moment fevered intensity, he manages to hold it together. The second movement backs off, but still Lipkin maintains a level of tension many don’t even strive for. The final movement opens in a tense and fidgety mood, as though Lipkin is poised to explode. Then he does. He literally blasts through to the end. Think of this recording as the musical equivalent of a boxing match; Lipkin is a wiry middleweight, dodging and maneuvering, then moving in to pummel you with jab after jab before hammering you a hook and cross combo. This is not for the squeamish.

After such an intense, riveting recording, the follow-ups were bound to be relatively less interesting. The Op 78 sonata actually carries a bit of the same harried, intense feel, and that makes this work less successful. Lipkin could definitely ease up. Op 79 sounds better, but his uncompromising approach leads to a hectored first movement drained of much humor (rather like Pollini, only slower) and if the second movement is cool but appropriately moving and the third movement more gentle, it just never quite jells as it should. These are good performances, and very much within Lipkin’s style, but better can be had.

The Les Adieux sees a return to form, albeit with qualifications. Firstly, Lipkin’s is a decidedly pianistic conception of the work; he doesn’t seem to conjure up images of an orchestra the way others do. Second, he uses his Lipkinisms. But that’s okay. The first movement opens softly in a satisfyingly disconsolate mood, and after the piece swells, Lipkin uses some stodgy, stiff phrasing, accentuating every chord – but it works. It shouldn’t. But it does. The second movement is slow and thoughtful if not especially moving, and the third movement is more ebullient, as it should be, with Lipkin again favoring some swift tempi at times. It is very good, but not a top contender.

Moving on to Op 90, I could foresee some problems. Lipkin’s style and this work don’t seem destined to work together at the very highest level. In the opening movement he fares well; he opens strong, and moves into more measured playing accordingly. The rhythmic pulse and coherent delivery all work just fine. The second movement, though, just is not lyrical enough. Lipkin actually does play lyrically and even occasionally sweetly, but with memories of the ravishing Lucchesini and profound Kovacevich still in mind, this one seems a bit wanting.

So it was with high but tempered expectations that I approached Op 101. What I got was one of the best recordings I’ve ever heard of this work. It almost seems as though Lipkin is a different pianist. His tone is softer, his tempi slower, his approach more flexible. Poise, control, beauty, nuance, purposive slowness: they’re all there! The work moves gracefully, effortlessly along. The second movement finds Lipkin deploying his normal tricks, but in a freer, more relaxed way; there are oomph and drive aplenty, but everything sounds more, well, certain. The Adagio is a thing of contemplative beauty, varied in tone and touch, and introspective in nature. The final movement is filled with enough power to drive home Lipkin’s point, but the depth and beauty are extraordinary. Perhaps Lipkin is more “earthbound” than some pianists in this work, but in a piece that is hard to pull off – or at least hard to pull of to my taste – Lipkin delivers a marvel.

And the hits just keep coming with the Hammerklavier. Lipkin opens the first movement with speed and power, though not too much of the former and just enough of the latter. He adopts perfect, flowing tempi, and his phrasing, if a tad choppy in a spot or two, lends a remarkable clarity to the proceedings. It is viscerally exciting and (perhaps over-) stimulating! The little second movement is a model of vigor and vitality and is infused with just the right amount of bite. Then the great Adagio arrives. Lipkin once again shows that he can play softly, with articulate and telling delicateness when needed, and with probing depth heretofore not always on display. Indeed, his reading more than many others goes straight to the heart of the matter: anguish and hope, dispiritedness and desire all blend together perfectly in a moving yet distant reading. The Largo that opens the great finale is perfectly paced and played with an attractive tone, and Lipkin imbues the fugue with the same degree of clarity as the opening movement. Clarity, control, vigor, depth; Lipkin’s recording has all of the hallmarks of a great recording. This is something special.

After two such remarkable recordings, I guess it was inevitable that the rest might not be as good. Op 109 opens with slightly idiosyncratic phrasing, and Likpin’s leaner sound reappears – to the good – and the playing is generally alert and lyrical enough, but it’s almost too straight. Vigor and forcefulness characterize the second movement. The third movement opens with that wonderful Andante theme delivered with clarity and focus, and then Lipkin moves on to some clear and lean variations, all delivered with unflagging forward momentum. This is once again more earthbound late Beethoven, but unlike the 101, it just doesn’t quite work as well. It’s still superb, but compared to the two previous works, it’s more standard.

The 110 falls into the same category. The opening movement is warm and humane and beautiful, and even better, it is unfussy and simple and direct. Everything is contained – no undue haste or power disturb the proceedings. The second movement is faster and more incisive and acts as a perfect bridge to the final movement. Lipkin opens in beautiful and somewhat forlorn fashion and then moves into the first part of the fugue with great clarity and simplicity. The return of the Arioso is poignant and played with feeling, and the return of the fugue returns to the same traits as before. One interesting touch here is that Lipkin doesn’t do much with the repeated chords. Many pianists build them up relentlessly, but Lipkin zooms right through them without multiplying the volume very much. Usually I like the build-up, but I like this, too. But for all its attractive traits, this sonata just doesn’t scale the dizzying heights others achieve.

That leaves the Op 111. Here Lipkin reverts to the ways of the Waldstein and Appassionata: incisive, hectic, cutting, he moves through the opening movement in a most exciting way. It’s not as intense as Op 57, but it is faster, more vigorous, and just plain more exciting than many. Perhaps his playing ends up being more fierce than ominous, but it’s still good. The second movement opens with a poignant Arietta which then transitions seamlessly to the variations. Lipkin is not quite as, well, metaphysical as some, but he’s not as earthbound as before. Perhaps he’s a lone thinker, pondering the nature of things, perhaps an artist dwelling on the meaning of his art. Whatever you want to attach to it, it works. The fast variations are very fast, and his overall approach reminds of Gieseking’s 1947 recording in some regards: by eschewing the more standard extra-deep approach, and by emphasizing speed, he creates his own meaning. Lipkin doesn’t possess Gieseking’s touch (who does?), but it still works.

So, the last ten sonatas have been devoured. My initial positive impressions of Lipkin have been reinforced. Direct, committed, a bit quick and brittle at times, but always compelling, he leaves his mark. No, he’s not competitive with the very best in some works, but make no mistake, at his best he matches up to anyone, and even at his “worst” in these works he is superb. This is turning out to be one hell of a cycle. Now if those early sonatas would just get here!


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Posted on: 11 August 2005 by Todd A
The last volume, or rather, Volume I, finally arrived a couple days ago, and I did the only proper thing: I immediately began listening. I anticipated and largely got good things. With some reservations.

Starting with the first of the Op 2 sonata, I was actually a bit surprised to hear Lipkin open a bit slower than I expected, and certainly a bit slower than I generally prefer. At the same time Lipkin sounds more relaxed than in many of the later sonatas, so I guess it could be considered a trade-off. Anyway, despite some slight slowness, Lipkin does infuse some energy and bite into some of the first movement, but not too much, and after hearing the second movement I sort of know why: the second movement is attractively lyrical. Perhaps this was his plan, I thought, but then the third movement comes along and it’s a bit stiff and more in line with other recordings. The final movement is the most successful of the work: the tempi are perfectly judged, there’s some bite, and if it may sound a bit terse at times, the overall effect is successful. It’s not a great cycle opener, but it is Lipkin good. (That is, very good.)

The second sonata is substantially similar to the first; there’s no mistaking this is Lipkin playing, but that’s all to the good. The pianist once again adopts perfectly judged tempi in the opening movement, and his playing is sharp, tense, and quick-ish. The second movement is perhaps too quick for a Largo, and the mood lighter than some may favor, but it works. The last two movements are similar to the first. Perhaps Lipkin seems to cut some things short and underplay some ideas, and again his pedal-light playing produces a lean, clean tone, but overall, as is usual for this pianist, it works.

Lipkin concludes the opening trio in fine form. The opening movement is bright, cheerful, and very quick. The second movement finds Lipkin playing at just about the right speed; this is an Adagio that sounds like an Adagio, and if perhaps it is not as deep as some, it sounds effectively moving. (Of course, this is early Beethoven, not late.) The third movement is quick and scrappy, with some rough edges not smoothed away. The final movement is once again quick, but it also has a light, flitting sound that really works. About midway through Lipkin plays with some serious power – something he does rarely in the cycle – and it just adds to the overall effect. So, the opening trio ends up being quite good, though it seems to me that Lipkin is ultimately more at home in the later works.

The Op 7 sonata reinforces that feeling. I’ve stated before that I generally prefer a more relaxed take to this work, though a few people have convinced me that a fast approach works. Lipkin really doesn’t. The first movement is just too harried and hurried. Some of the louder passages are pounded out, and they are also accompanied by some ringing from the piano that doesn’t help. (It’s nowhere near as bad as with Øland, though.) The great Largo is taken at a nice pace, but it just doesn’t seem to work, and it lacks true tonal attractiveness. The Allegro is pretty much straightforward, and the final movement is too, with some sharp playing in Lipkin’s normal style. This sonata is perhaps the least successful of the cycle. But that’s okay: it ain’t bad, and no pianist gets every single one right.

Moving to the second triptych finds an overall improvement from the first four sonatas. The first sonata has a well-paced opening – it’s neither too fast nor too slow – and Lipkin’s clear, vigorous approach really works. The Adagio is less successful, though. First off, it’s slow – slower than the preceding Largo movements – and some of the playing comes off as too stiff and a bit grating. It just doesn’t flow the way I like. But the concluding movement is back to fine form. The second of the batch is just plain good. Again, Lipkin adopts well-considered tempi, and he plays with enough brio to bring the piece to life. Only some slightly harsh and smudged playing in some of the louder passages mars the proceedings. The second movement is plain and direct and effective. The final movement is fast, fast, fast, and includes the repeat. It’s just plain fun to listen to. When it comes to the last of the trio, Lipkin opens at breakneck speed, and he maintains a fast pace throughout. He never sounds out of control, but he sounds as though he’s pushing things. Sounds good to me. In this work the Largo sounds like a Largo. About three-quarters of the way in, Lipkin does a truly masterly job of building up tension just to release it in splendid fashion. Again, others go deeper, but Lipkin’s playing is quite effective. The last two movements get the straightforward treatment, and if they can sound a bit inflexible at times, they still work.

The first of the big name works ends up being something of a letdown. Given Lipkin’s amazing Appassionata, I was hoping for a spectacular Pathethique. What I got was a curiously soft interpretation. The very first chord gives away what is to come: it’s soft, rather attractive as far as Op 13 openers go, and more surface playing than deep, probing playing. And so it is through the work. Lipkin again maintains a brisk pace, but it all sounds a bit shallow and uncharacteristically light. I really wanted more here.

The two delightful Op 14 sonatas finish off the first volume. Lipkin plays the first sonata in a generally light, cheery, and acceptably fluid way. The second movement is a bit somber, and the final movement does enjoy some hefty playing, but overall the whole thing is played as it should be. The second sonata is more successful. Lipkin opens quickly and softly and really rather attractively. The second movement is a delight, with a fine, ingratiating tone and not unsubstantial charm, and the final movement simply acts to cap off the whole thing. It’s really one of the best recordings in the first volume.

Overall assessment time. Lipkin is definitely someone worth hearing. His approach is lean and pointed and a bit gruff, but his directness and clarity and general avoidance of selfish indulgence and annoying idiosyncrasy makes for an invigorating listen. Some may desire a more mellifluous sound, and that’s understandable. But Lipkin offers something that few do: he’s so thorough in his preparation and so convincing in his delivery, that even when he makes interpretive decisions that seem wrong, the whole thing seems right. He’s not out to rework these works, if you will; he’s out to play Beethoven in a direct if rough-hewn style. (It’s easy to imagine Beethoven doing something similar.) Lipkin is not equally successful in all of the sonatas – no one is – and he certainly seems more at home in the later works (and I would recommend Volume III to those who want just a taste before splurging), but the entire cycle makes a very welcome addition to my collection. As I wrote in my first review, Lipkin makes a nice foil to Andrea Lucchesini. Their styles are very different and yet both bring important insights to these great works. Ultimately, I would say that Lucchesini offers just that little bit more and benefits from glorious tone and sound, but Lipkin shows that some things seem only to come with age and long experience with the music. I’ll definitely be spinning these recordings again, and for those who hanker for something perhaps out of the ordinary in this repertoire, I say go for it!


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