Following the pianistic
progress of the Russian pianist-composer Alexander Scriabin
(1872-1915) is one fascinating journey into the heart of
darkness, just to borrow the title of Joseph Conrad’s novella. I
love the quote, “Once I was a Chopinian, later I became a
Wagnerian, but now I am a Scriabinian.” which succinctly sums up
the composer’s ascent (or descent?) from apparent guilelessness
to all-consuming megalomania, and eventual musical and spiritual
immolation.
Elena Kuschnerova’s very substantial recital disc focuses on
Scriabin’s early “Chopin phase”, which already displays the
restless, agitated and almost breathless endeavour to break free
from artistic and pianistic shackles of the nineteenth century.
Her legendary Russian compatriots Horowitz and Richter have
recorded some of the Études, Préludes and
Poèmes - albeit frustratingly in bits and pieces - but one
has to turn to Kushnerova to hear pianism of that calibre in
complete sets.
One senses the Russian soul coursing deep in her veins the
moment she plays the poignant opening of the “simple” Étude
in C sharp minor, Op.2 No.1. It’s not the notes, but how she
phrases them; it is this very spirit that eludes many a
technically proficient young pianist we so often hear today. The
twelve Études of Op.8 follow like a breeze. In her hands,
these finger-twisters do not sound like studies but miniature
tone paintings. Hers is without mannerism, nor the inimitable
and often endearing quirks of Horowitz (who could ever embody
the spirit of a capriccio in the F sharp minor Étude?),
but yet revealing enough of her personality. Seldom has the
lyricism of No.8, or the brooding melancholy of No.11 come
through with such poignancy. For virtuosity of touch and
quixotic shifts of mood, the breathless Alla ballata No.9
comes to represent all that is quintessential Scriabin. I could
go on, but it would be best to allow these revelatory
performances to do their own commentary.
Scriabin’s Préludes Op.11 is the only set of his that
traverses all 24 major and minor keys like Chopin’s Op.28.
Complete recordings have become more commonplace but it is the
incomplete selections by Andrei Gavrilov (on EMI Classics) from
the 1980s that continues to stir my imagination. Kuschnerova’s
take is kaleidoscopic as a whole, performed with a sweep – like
reading a good novel – that is hard to put down. In the
individual movements, she elicits a wide range of moods, from
pensiveness, beguiling disquiet to ecstatic outbursts, ever
shifting within a matter of seconds. A musical roller-coaster
ride that entices, thrills and sends shivers down the spine.
This is without doubt a disc that I am very happy to have beside
my volumes of Horowitz, Sofronitzky, and Gavrilov.
Kuschnerova’s Prokofiev disc is less generous, but still
musically satisfying. I remember a now- deleted Lazar Berman
disc of the same major works (on Deutsche Grammophon), and this
is at least its equal. Prokofiev transcribed ten pieces from his
ballet Romeo and Juliet for the piano. While these cannot
match the orchestra for sheer colour and opulence, the
substantial musical material shines through especially in the
hands of a sympathetic interpreter. Kuschnerova never loses the
fact that these are dance numbers and she provides the necessary
rhythmic thrust that keeps the music going. Her musical
storytelling comes across strongly; winsome in The Young
Juliet, boisterous in Mercutio, reassuringly warm in
Brother Laurence and climactic in Romeo and Juliet
before Parting.
The early four-movement Second Sonata of Prokofiev has
become regular piano competition fodder for nimble-fingered
candidates, the perfect vehicle for blinding and faceless
virtuosity. That ignores the fact that it contains genuinely
good music with much scope for a show of superior musicianship.
Kuschnerova’s performance is altogether musical, one that mixes
the lyrical, dramatic and the motoric elements in the right
degree such that no aspect of the composer’s pianism is found
wanting. To my ears, this comes close to an ideal reading – even
displacing Richter’s attempts by virtue of the recording’s
crystal clear sound. One only wished Kuschnerova added another
Prokofiev sonata; for me that would have been the other Richter
speciality, the Fourth Sonata.
Elena Kuschnerova, a former student of Tatyana Kestner (who
taught Gavrilov) and Sergei Dorensky, may be what’s left of the
genuine and hallowed Russian piano school. Now that many of her
younger compatriots have sought training in the greener pastures
of the West (thus leading to a gradually increasing homogeneity
of performances), pianism like hers is becoming a rare
commodity. Recordings like these should be snapped up in haste!
Tou Liang disagrees
with a certain writer that playing Scriabin’s Étude in D
sharp minor makes one – albeit for a moment - feel like a
god. It’s much more than that… it makes one feel like Horowitz!
