Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)

Piano Concertos No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1 and No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 Berlin Classics 9307. Mid-price Piano Concertos No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30 and No. 4 in G minor, Op. 40 Berlin Classics 9302. Mid-price Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43 Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 Berlin Classics Eterna 3205. Budget price PETER ROSEL piano Berlin Symphony Orchestra conducted by Kurt Sanderling

by Jonathan Yungkans

This may be the greatest, most consistently satisfying set of Rachmaninov piano concertos ever recorded. For some people, those words will be a declaration of war. Before anyone pulls out guns, knives, poison pen letters to the editor or other lethal weapons, let me explain.

Peter Rosel and Kurt Sanderling lived and performed in what was formerly called East Germany in the bad old days before the Berlin Wall came crashing down. Both studied in the then Soviet Union. They know the style, the passion, the wistfulness and melancholy of Rachmaninov's concertos, and perform those pieces as though those qualities are in their blood.

They also take great care in balancing the overall architecture of these works in equal measure with highlighting details, illustrating more than usual how those details help support the whole edifice. It is a symphonic concept - not a mainly pianistic one, nor an overtly orchestral one, but an approach combining the best of both those worlds, emphasizing that these are works for piano and orchestra in equal measure. This concept strengthens the many charms these concertos have to offer, and illuminates the embarrassment of riches Rachmaninov wrote into them.

Tempi are crucial for this approach to work. In the notes for his recording of the 1927 version of the Fourth Piano Concerto (Chandos 8987), Igor Buketoff writes that Rachmaninov preferred a moderate tempo, to highlight details and underline harmonic richness and texture. This axiom holds true for all four concertos, and even more so for the Paganini Rhapsody. When these works are played quickly, or at what most consider standard tempo, the piano can sound flashy or virtuosic but the orchestra comes out under-characterized.

Just the other day, I heard Pletnev play the Rhapsody on the radio with Claudio Abbado and the Berlin Philharmonic. Pletnev sounded faster than in his recording with Libor Pesek and the Philharmonia (Virgin 759506), fast enough for both he and the Berlin Philharmonic to seem rushed. The accompaniment was so bland that it was faceless - no color or character, and none of the dry wit that makes this piece such a joy to hear when it is dome right (barring the hopeless romantics to hold out for the 18th Variation, of course).

Some people might account the blandness to Abbado's conducting. However, I listened to Pletnev/Pesek the next day. The pacing, albeit slower, gave the orchestra time for all the qualities missing from the Abbado. Instrumental details flooded in left and right, setting the tone for each variation, and making the performance seem like a full collaboration between pianist and conductor, instead of one telling the other, "I'm going this way, and you just follow the best you can."

More moderate pacing can also made a performance more exciting. Some believe that faster is more exciting, but most of the time, a musical passage played quicker only sounds hectic. A slower performance, if properly proportioned, will do two things. It will allow listeners to hear more easily where a musical piece is going, architecturally speaking, and it will actually generate greater tension than a performance that is rushed or muddled.

Speed is illusory. In a recent interview in the New York Times, pianist Van Cliburn states, "Rachmaninov said that if you play a passage very evenly and more slowly than you think it should be played, then it will sound fast, and he was right. If I try to play faster than I can hear the notes, then I'm finished. You can't let the horse ride you." Harold C. Schonberg, in his book The Great Conductors, claims this evenness of playing was one reason conductor Arturo Toscanini's performances sounded so fast. The tempos weren't really that swift. The orchestral playing was so well regulated that the music only sounded rapid.

Rosel and Sanderling take their time with the Rachmaninov concertos. This allows themes room to breathe, and passages that normally sound frenzied or unimportant gain power and expressive weight. The intricate structure of these works becomes clearer and easier to follow, and orchestral players have time to shape, color and mold passages with a greater deal of freedom and individuality. Within that freedom is an overarching unity far above and beyond the usual teamwork, a cooperation that becomes highly satisfying to which to listen.

The benefits of this approach become immediately apparent at the start of the First Concerto. Usually, after the horns sound the opening fanfare, the pianist rushes down the keys like a pack of hounds on the hunt, and the vying back and forth that follows between the pianist showing what he can do and the orchestra trying to reassert itself undermines the structure of the piece. Not here.

No note is thrown away carelessly; each passage is weighed for its maximum structural and dramatic import. A vocal quality lingers heavily over the proceedings, much to the piece's benefit, and one can hear for once how thoroughly Russian opera influenced Rachmaninov's compositional style.

In the outer movements, faster passages grow sinewy and leonine, and lyric sections that can sound rhetorical at a more rapid pace become charged with power and yearning. Rosel plays the cadenza as though a singer vocalizing it. At his tempo, it becomes a full-fledged aria of passion, desire and regret, making the orchestral denouement that follows all the more gripping.

The opening horn solo of the second movement is ravishing, the strings and clarinet solo that follow absolutely sultry, and the piano solo intoxicating in its languid beauty. Yes, this is much slower than you normally hear, but it works so well that you do not really care. All you want to do is bask in the sheer eroticism of this passage.

The Second Concerto does not want for tension and gains in resolve, especially in its opening measures (has anyone heard the low notes in the left hand tolled as bell-like, or underpin the piano solo quite so solidly?). The lower strings are both luscious and melancholy, the piano every bit their equal in both interpretation and sound, and the lower brass a subtle but firm support for the strings, warm-sounding and never strident. I had always thought of Rachmaninov's orchestration of this concerto as string-heavy, but here the wind and brass parts are given their due, adding colors and textures I did not know were written into the piece.

The Third Concerto, the longest and most dramatic of the four numbered concertos, is given the most urgent performance in the set, coming closest, tempo-wise, to other accounts. But while Rosel and Sanderling keep the piece moving, they do not skimp on details; neither do they shortchange this work's inherent strum und drang. They let the music speak for itself, from a flowing, songful opening in keeping with the hymn-like opening theme to the triumphant final measures - alternately seductive, melancholic and heaven-storming - and the payoff is enormous.

Rosel plays the longer ossias cadenza favored by Ashkenazy and Gieseking. In his hands, the passagework surges with equal parts poetry and fire, with Rosel alternately singing and orchestrating from the keyboard brilliantly.

The Fourth Concerto is given a commanding performance, one that plays up the work's strengths and almost belies the its weaknesses compared to its three sister works and the Paganini Rhapsody. Nothing is overstated, and the performers play the music as dynamically as they can without going over the edge (as Thibaudet and Ashkenazy come dangerously close to doing in their recording of this piece). In short, they do the best with the materials they have on hand.

The recorded sound in all four concertos is clear, rich, almost tactile. At the same time, there is no artificial spotlighting with the microphones. Everything is naturally balanced, with a good front-balcony ambiance.

A perfect introduction to this set is the budget CD on Berlin Eterna of the Paganini Rhapsody and Second Concerto. The downside is that, if you go on to buy the complete set, you will have two recordings of the Second Concerto, as the Eterna CD is the only way you can get ahold of the Paganini Rhapsody with these artists. The upside is that the extra cash outlay is worth it.

Rosel and Sanderling bring the same qualities to the Paganini Rhapsody that they did to the concertos - namely, poetry, nobility, excitement and a wealth of orchestral facets left buried in most recordings of this piece. In fact, this performance shows how closely the orchestra works together with the soloist to set the tone of each variation and build the piece to a highly satisfying conclusion. For many, it will be an eye- and ear-opener, and an object lesson on how much the devil (or God, depending on your viewpoint) is truly in the details when it comes to great performances.

Bibliography:
1. Buketoff, Igor, "Rachmaninoff, Monna Vanna, and the Fourth Piano Concerto," Liner Notes for Chandos 8987 (1991), 7.
2. Kimmelman, Michael, "Playing When He Wants, and Remembering," Arts & Leisure, The New York Times, no. 51,465 (Sunday, July 30, 2000), 28. Also available through www.nytimes.com.
3. Schonberg, Harold C., The Great Conductors (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1967), page n/a.

The Right Hand of Rachmaninov

For Jonathan Yungkans, Rachmaninov and Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream is a perfect combination with which to beat the heat. Just don't ask him which he thinks is better. Please.

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779: 21.8.2000 ©Jonathan Yungkans

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