Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953)
Piano Sonata No. 6, in A Major, Op. 82 (1939-40)
Piano Sonata No. 7, in B-Flat Major, Op. 83 (1939-42)
Piano Sonata No. 8, in B-Flat Major, Op. 84 (1939-44)
Romeo and Juliet, Op. 64 Dance of the Knights*
(Transcription for violin and piano by David Grjunes)
Josef Bardanashvili (b. 1948)
To Gia Kanchelli (P.S.)*
Giorgi Gigashvili, piano
Lisa Batiashvili, violin*
rec. February, 2025 at Teldex Studio, Berlin, Germany
Alpha 1194 [85]
As one can observe from the timing in the heading, this is a well filled disc and, considering the consistently masterful Prokofiev repertory, it’s also quite a bargain—a bargain, that is, if the performances are compelling enough to warrant your attention. In addition, because this is heavily traversed fare, a pianist who wants to gain more than just passing notice needs to deliver extraordinary performances that rise well above most of the competition. Well, the good news is that Tbilisi-born pianist Giorgi Gigashvili turns in very fine accounts of these three monumental Prokofiev works, the so-called “War Sonatas.”
In the Sixth Gigashvili treats the Allegretto moderato first movement main theme, or motto, with more nuancing in his accenting, dynamics and pedaling than you hear in most other performances. However, the hesitation or little fermata he injects in the same place in each of the first three appearances of this craggy stomping theme catches your attention all right, but it seems to slightly disrupt the flow of the music. Yet, the more you listen to it this initially quirky touch becomes a viable way to italicize the individuality of this bold, trenchant theme. Gigashvili then sensitively phrases the lyrical alternate melody and invests much drama and tension in the development section, again with deft manipulation of his dynamics and accenting. The second movement Allegretto is delightfully witty and playful in Gigashvili’s hands and the ensuing waltz is beautifully played, exuding an almost gentle dreamy sense. In the middle section the music’s tension and conflict emerge quite convincingly as well.
The finale is exciting in its outer sections while the inner portion is probed sensitively for all its ominous portents. In the coda Gigashvili shows he is one of the rare pianists who gets the enigmatic ending right, playing the closing chords with a nervous intensity, not accenting any chord but treating the rapid fire onslaught as a spasmodic cascade of notes insistently hammering out the first movement motto, now transformed into a frenetic crushing force. Overall then, this is a fine and quite different take on the Sixth Sonata.
The Seventh is just as convincing, maybe even more so. Gigashvili plays the opening with about as perfect a tempo and dynamics as I’ve ever heard, honing in on the intensity and drama of the music. He then delivers the Andantino second theme (which is really the dominant theme of the movement) for all its considerable depth with well judged dynamics and giving it a somewhat more muscular character than is usual. The development section builds with much tension and the whole movement brims with an appropriately dark and dramatic character.
Gigashvili phrases the second movement’s main theme with a gentle sad character. As I noted in my 2021 review of the complete sonatas by Dinara Klinton, Prokofiev biographer Daniel Jaffé perceptively linked this music to Schumann’s lied Wehmut (sadness), a work sharing the same E major key and having a striking similarity in its theme. Was Prokofiev sending a veiled message that life under Stalin was miserable? Jaffé thinks so and I agree. Anyway, Gigashvili’s account of this movement is wholly convincing. Ditto for the Precipitato-marked finale, where Gigashvili employs a tempo that is perfect for conveying the excitement and desperation of the music. He wisely avoids the increasing tendency among pianists today to race to the finish line even if it risks turning the notes into an indiscernible muddle.
The Eighth Sonata may be the most profound of the nine, and perhaps the most misinterpreted as well. Here Gigashvili plays the Andante dolce main theme and its variants with an appropriately deliberate tempo and, once again, exhibits masterly playing in his accenting, dynamics and pedaling. Agitation hovers above the music and while Gigashvili milks the mysterious second theme for all its quiet darkness, he imparts a restlessness to it as well. The long development section builds powerfully, Prokofiev stripping the music down to its more basic, raw elements, and as the music reaches a potent climax the alternate theme rings out emphatically here and the music then goes into a tailspin of sorts. Gigashvili captures the essence of this music so well with his ever intelligent and sensitive phrasing.
The short Andante sognando that ensues comes across as quite “dreamy”, but also rather cheerful in Gigashvili’s hands. It’s a nice respite from the more serious outer panels in this sonata. The finale exhibits plenty of energy and drive, which is evident right from the opening, Gigashvili employing some potent dynamics and deft accenting. The middle section features a theme that emerges from what seems an unpromising rhythmic fragment and develops into a charming thickly-chorded theme. All this is delivered quite convincingly as is the recalling of the mysterious theme from the first movement. The rest of the finale goes quite well, including those titanically difficult rapid fire notes in the coda. A great performance!
Gigashvili and Lisa Batiashvili collaborate for a fine account of the transcription of Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights from Romeo and Juliet. Is there a piece that has had more transcriptions for various instruments and combinations of instruments by busy arrangers than this? Josef Bardanashvili’s To Gia Kanchelli is a light jazzy sort of work that exhibits folkish and blues elements. The music is pleasing and the performance of this four minute piece sounds quite fine to me. But who is the wordless vocalist who comes in just briefly and distantly beginning at 1:26? It’s a nicely atmospheric effect that surely enhances the music.
The sound reproduction in all works is quite good, though the piano exhibits a tad of shrillness in places. As for comparisons, there are many complete sets of the nine Prokofiev sonatas, many of which offer excellent performances of this “War” trilogy. But I can’t think of one that consistently captures every aspect of the broad range of emotions and ideas in these works. Sviatoslav Richter recorded all three “War Sonatas” several times but never on one disc. In Philips Great Pianists series from a few of decades ago the label did compile three performances that are hard to top. But alas, they are (or were) on a two-disc set coupled with works by Liszt, Schubert and Mussorgsky and the sound is dated.
Boris Giltburg on Orchid Classics comes close to equaling Richter in all three and has much better sound. Perhaps better still is Severin von Eckardstein on Cavi-Music which I reviewed in 2022. But then this new set on Alpha is just as convincing and features the other works as a bonus. In sum, Richter is great in this repertory but you may not find him with all three works on one disc and his sound will definitely be a drawback. It’s your choice then, but Gigashvili is very compelling and quite individual in his approach, and thus certainly worth your attention.
Robert Cummings
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