Serkin: Four Piano Concertos
Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15
Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 83
Felix Mendelsson (1809-1847)
Piano Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Op. 25
Piano Concerto No. 2 in D minor, Op. 40
Rudolf Serkin (piano)
The Philadelphia Orchestra/Eugene Ormandy
rec. 10 December 1961 (Op. 15);1 April 1960 (Op. 83); 19 December 1957 (Op. 25); 8 October 1959 (Op. 40), Broadwood Hotel, Philadelphia
Pristine Audio PASC 753 [2 CDs: 135]

This is the earlier of two pairs of stereo, studio recordings Rudolf Serkin made of the Brahms’ piano concertos; the later versions were with George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra in Severance Hall in 1967 (No. 2) and 1968 (No. 1). His style did not change much; he favoured a big, robust, dramatic manner, so if you want a lighter, more transparent “chamber music” affect – I don’t – you might find Serkin interpretatively too traditional and old-fashioned.

Given my tastes, it is no surprise that I already have on my shelves vintage recordings of No. 1 by Curzon and Szell in 1962, Rubenstein and Reiner in 1954 and Solomon and Kubelik in 1952, and for No. 2, Backhaus and Böhm in 1967, and Richter and Leinsdorf in 1960. For both concertos, however, I like Stephen Kovacevich with Colin Davis in 1979 and, above all, a young Krystian Zimerman playing live in concert with Leonard Bernstein and the VPO in the Musikverein in 1983 and 84 respectively.  I am aware that Gilels and Jochum, too, feature high in the list of classic accounts and have no doubt that many more modern recordings which nonetheless maintain a more “Romantic” style are highly recommendable – Freire and Chailly (review), Levit and Thielemann (review), Grimaud and Nelsons (review), for example) – but my own favourites remain as above.

So where do these accounts by Serkin stand? Pristine’s XR remasterings almost invariably enhance the appeal of older recordings, although as Andrew Rose’s note states, these were already in “the vivid early stereo sound of Columbia’s golden age.” Well, yes – they are just a little edgy but on the other hand, very clear and immediate, especially now that shrillness has been further tamed and the bass enhanced by remastering; I first hear very little difference between its orchestral sound and that of the live DG recordings made over two decades later with new, digital technology, even if Serkin’s piano retains an element of clangorousness – although that might have as much to do with his emphatic touch as the recording. (To be fair, it should be noted that Zimerman remade No. 1 two decades later because of – and here I quote Jonathan Woolf’s mixed review – “poor acoustics and for the inferior piano he was forced to use after the original choice failed to arrive in time.” I am less exercised by any such supposed deficiencies in it but no doubt have a less acute ear than the famous pianist). Ormandy is every bit as energised and driven as Bernstein and given the symphonic-style introduction to the first concerto you have several minutes to register that drive before the entrance of the solo pianist. Ormandy is in fact much more propulsive by four minutes in both the first and second movements – and “only” a minute and a half in the finale; those are considerable differences but I would not say that Serkin sounds rushed. However, as much as I enjoy Serkin’s lyricism and bell-tones in the central Adagio, I still prefer Zimerman’s daringly protracted tempi with Bernstein – and he was nearly just as mesmerisingly leisurely in his remake with Rattle – but Serkin’s brilliance in the third movement is infectious.

The differences in timings and manner in No. 2 are much less marked – Serkin is faster than Zimerman by less than a couple of minutes overall. I must nonetheless concede that the sound in Zimerman’s live recording of this concerto is an improvement over his account of the first; presumably this time he found nothing to object to regarding either the piano or the engineering. The same contrasts obtain between Serkin’s greater incisiveness and Zimerman’s dreamier manner, and between Ormandy’s greater drive and Bernstein’s indulgence. (Of course, Richter’s famous recording with Leinsdorf was equally hyper-Romantic – Brahms played like Rachmaninov!) The Philadelphians were and are famed for their warm, silky, homogeneous sound but under Bernstein’s the VPO tended to sound less airy, individual and transparent, and more “Americanised” – if I may loosely apply that term. Certainly, the former’s solo horn lacks nothing in allure in the opening of this recording under review. I much enjoy Serkin’s masculine directness throughout but he brings a real singing quality to the slow movement, beginning with a lovely cello solo. Again, I gravitate more towards Bernstein and Zimerman who make Serkin sound almost classical but he is no sense dry or restrained. In the end, these are not qualitative differences but matters of interpretative taste. The finale displays his prodigious technique and the concluding pyrotechnics are thrilling.

Regarding the Mendelssohn concertos, I am less of a fossil when it comes to favourite recordings, having been converted to the joys of Jan Lisiecki’s relatively recent 2018 recordings for DG and I refer you to my review of those. Both recordings are extraordinary; if I find Lisiecki a little cleaner in execution that is more to do with the extra clarity of the digital recording ambience he is given whereas Serkin’s is broader and more reverberant – although the pianist’s humming along is audible and the fact that he is so fast in the first movement of No. 1 means that a little blurring is inevitable. Yet he takes the middle Andante a minute and a half more slowly than Lisiecki and the latter is surely closer to the prescribed tempo direction; his tone is pure and his phrasing poetic. Both pianists dazzle in the finale. While Op. 25 is mightily impressive and great fun, No. 2 is a rather more substantial work, on a grander scale but still more showy than profound or memorable. Serkin gives it full weight and relishes the opportunity to flaunt his dexterity, still audibly vocalising happily. The central Adagio somehow just skirts individuality for all Serkin’s and Ormandy’s dedicated advocacy, hence Schumann’s damning of it with faint praise as resembling “one of those works thrown off by the older masters while recuperating from one of their great exertions.”  I know what he means; it is replete with Mendelssohnian tropes without ever really taking off but its execution here is flawless.

Ralph Moore