Franz Schubert (1797-1828)
Moments musicaux, D780 (1823-1828)
Two Scherzi, D593 (1817)
Drei Klavierstücke, D946 (1828)
John Damgaard (piano)
rec. 2024, Concert Hall, Danish National Academy of Music, Odense, Denmark
Danacord DACOCD980 [70]

I select my favourites from the three sets presented here in ascending order of preference. From Moments Musicaux my third choice is Moment 1 in C. This, and John Damgaard, begin in a delightfully folksy manner. Damgaard plays calmly, creamily, but his clear focus on overall shape clarifies surprises like the rise from the high soprano B heard thrice in the second strain to its octave leap to stratospheric B (tr. 1, 0:54). The middle section in G major (2:10) is suddenly mellow: right hand proposes, left hand responds like a courtship between soprano and baritone. This music is, as Damgaard’s playing, art which conceals art.

I compare this with Vladimir Feltsman recorded 2013 (Nimbus Alliance NI 6297). He impressively details all the intricacies of balance between the hands, but I’d rather have Damgaard’s blitheness than Feltsman’s concentration. Feltsman’s middle section is warmer and gentler, but in making its triplets’ accompaniment more present, there’s potential menace from which Damgaard’s more cherished melody shields me.

My second choice is Moment 3 in F minor: instantly attractive! Straightway, Damgaard’s staccato octave leaps in the left hand make me think of a Cossack dance. The second strain (tr. 3, 0:25) has two phrases, the first relaxed, the second quietly happy from Damgaard. The third strain is more insistent, f but becalms almost instantly and Damgaard makes its repeat soft from the outset. The return to the first strain is pp, like a memory; the coda (1:25) soon reaches ppp and stays in this dreamy state now transformed to a balmy F major. I’ve never heard this piece played as deliciously as Damgaard with such subtly elastic phrasing. Feltsman brings an airy charm to the melodic climaxes in the third strain but his generally more disciplined, muscular approach misses Damgaard’s humour in cheekier appoggiaturas.

My first choice is Moment 2 in A flat, an outright masterpiece. It begins from Damgaard like a lullaby: lots of lovingly repeated dotted rhythm groups, nuanced by tweaks in the melody, a second phrase of anxiety (tr. 2, 0:17) soon dismissed by the opening gratitude but needing continuing application, particularly come the second section (1:18), a stark, gaunt, plaintive arioso in F sharp minor of narrow melodic compass above the edgy twitching of left-hand arpeggios. The opening music then returns elaborated as a statement of faith, to which are added repeated notes (from 3:01) first in the tenor, then soprano register, like soft, beneficent bells. A more combative challenge in F sharp minor (3:42) proves ineffective against a more melting version of the earlier arioso. The return to the opening is quietly yet unshakably serene, an ending that perfectly matches Damgaard’s poised, mellow conviction. Timing at 6:44 against Damgaard’s 6:05, Feltsman takes a more measured view of the Andantino marking. This creates a more dramatic, deliberate statement, the repeated arioso notes seeming of inexorable sorrow yet the monotone bells having more of a transformative effect. The outcome is appreciable clarity of statement but not Damgaard’s relaxation and serenity.

Of the Two Scherzi, my second choice, Scherzo 2 in D flat, from Damgaard is a contrast of characters. A grumpy, lumbering elf fails to make progress with his opening phrase, thwarted by a fairy’s shimmering quavers in triplets. The second section in E major (tr. 8, 0:29) finds the elf snazzier, but the fairy an indisputably aerial figure of soft musing and total elegance. The Trio (2:05) finds the fairy now gentle and carefree, its second part opening (2:39) a brief glimpse of the vision that underpins her grace. Scherzo 1 is my first choice. Damgaard makes it kittenish, dominated by a first phrase of three quavers in descending triplets then a second phrase rising staccato, purposefully, gleefully, commandingly, finally triumphantly ff before descending demurely to p. The middle section (tr. 7, 0:42) basks with those triplets in high register, then develops them in a chain of sixteen (from 1:00). The legato Trio (2:14) is more relaxed, Damgaard attractively pointing the inner parts’ cross rhythms against the melody. Feltsman is notably meticulous in staccato sand right and left-hand balance, Damgaard finds more fun and also more nuance in the chain of sixteen triplets. Feltsman’s Trio is more genial. Overall Feltsman is fancier, Damgaard more exquisite. 

Of the Three Piano Pieces, No. 3 is my second choice. I love its and Damgaard’s bustling exuberance in heady dance full of syncopation, extreme dynamic contrasts and confetti-like showers of descant semiquavers. The middle section (tr. 11, 0:58) abandons C for D flat major, the descant now more gracious in its play, becalming almost soporific before the opening returns with a suitably abandoned coda (5:12). I compare Can Çakmur recorded 2022 (BIS 2680). Timing at 4:50 to Damgaard’s 5:36, Çakmur is more delicate, scherzo-like. I prefer Damgaard’s greater rhythmic brio and character, though Çakmur’s middle section descant is a more mercurial mirage.

Piano Pieces 1 ismy first choice. This is animation with a capital A. Damgaard starts this Allegro assai in E flat minorquietly but urgently, repeated loudly an octave higher, a cry of alarm. The second strain (tr. 9, 0:13), more deliberate, both steadier and softening in response, anticipates the coda in E flat major (0:45) growing ecstatically to a right-hand fz C in octaves (1:00), only here scrunched by Damgaard as if worked to a frenzy. The middle section, an Andante in B major (2:43) Is a vivid contrast. Damgaard takes it fairly leisurely, tender with luscious arpeggiando decorations but also an element of stateliness.  Its second strain (4:12) brings hemidemisemiquaver rising and falling glissandos before a climax proclaimed then savoured gratefully. The transition (8:11) to the Allegro assai is extraordinarily bleak yet Damgaard brings a staunchness of acceptance to its climax in a mesmerizing performance preferring consistent strength to virtuosic display. Çakmur’s timing is 8:18 against Damgaard’s 10:12, more assai with the Allegro, a performance of instant, fizzing emotion, every climax scrunched. In the Andante I prefer Damgaard’s dreamy warmth to Çakmur’s conjuring mist of an alien environment and ostentatious glissandos.

Michael Greenhalgh

Previous review: John France (August 2024)

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