Franz Schubert (1797-1828)
Piano Sonata in A minor, D.784 (1823)
Ungarische Melodie, D.817 (1824)
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Piano Sonata No. 7 in D major, Op. 10/3 (1798)
Imogen Cooper (piano)
rec. 1973, Handsworth Road Studio, Birmingham, UK
Nimbus Records NI7120 [52]
In September of last year Imogen Cooper recorded Beethoven’s last three piano sonatas for Chandos. Stephen Barber’s review for MusicWeb prompted me to acquire the disc. I do not regret that decision: they are wonderfully wise readings to be placed alongside the very finest recorded performances of that immensely taxing repertoire. That disc lets us hear Cooper’s playing at the end of her career – she has announced her intention to retire – and here, in a surprise issue from Nimbus, we are able to hear her at the beginning. In Adrian Farmer’s booklet note we read that the programme was recorded over two days in March 1973, in several batches of whole movements. Listening sessions then followed to select the preferred takes. The programme was released on LP in 1977 but was never reissued in any form. More than fifty years separate these two helpings of Cooper’s playing, making the Nimbus issue one that diverges from the usual pattern. I was impatient to listen to it.
Schubert’s Sonata, D.784 (in A minor and not A major as given in the booklet) is a short work that moves uneasily between darkness and light. The opening four-note motif dominates the first movement as much by its rhythmic character as by the actual notes. There is a dogged, measured tread about the music that Cooper brings out beautifully, and she is scrupulous at respecting the composer’s dynamic markings. There is, therefore, always a clear difference between, say, forte and fortissimo, and this attention contributes directly to the pianist’s success at evoking mood. This is Schubert at his most sombre, yet a short transition leads to the major-key second theme whose lyrical warmth is both a surprise and a relief. Cooper is again very attentive to dynamics, between piano and pianissimo this time, and the richness of tone, even in the quietest passages, plus immaculate chord voicing, help her bring out all the tenderness of this theme. She is, if anything, even more successful when the theme returns with added triplets. The close of the movement is again in the major key, but with little feeling of calm or resolution.
The second movement is more serene, in F major, though the music wanders through some very distant keys. Here, the alternation between a lyrical melody and a little group of notes that seem to have no relation to it, makes for an unsettling atmosphere. That atmosphere is, in a way, blown away by the rushing triplets that open the finale. The dynamic marking is, for the most part, piano, where Cooper is wonderfully light and fleet of finger. The second theme, once again in the major key (though with one foreign note) would seem to be destined to lighten the atmosphere. In Cooper’s hands it seems almost playful, yet it returns twice, each time leading us to more unsettled territory. Cooper is very convincing here, as she also is when the opening triplets return at the end, in octaves now, and horribly taxing. This is a very fine performance.
The Beethoven sonata is no less impressive. What a strange work! You could almost describe it as a series of four unrelated movements rather than an integrated whole. The sonata provides Cooper with further opportunities to demonstrate her mastery of rapid passagework. From the arresting octaves at the outset to the profusion of rushing quavers, all is superbly articulated, and with superb rhythmic drive. This is music that is full of humour, a facet of Beethoven that many musicians seem to overlook, almost as if they feel uncomfortable with it. Cooper has it just right, the sudden barbs and flashes never undersold. Merriment, too, is here in abundance, and Cooper conveys it brilliantly. She relishes the crossing of hands passage about half way through, and overall seems to be having a thoroughly good time, which means that we do too.
The slow movement, however, is dark, even bitter. When Beethoven takes the sombre, opening right-hand theme and transfers it to the left, in sepulchral darkness under pianissimo arpeggios in the right, we have another demonstration of the young pianist’s insight into the music. The minuet and trio follows on without a break in this performance, very effective. Here the music is suddenly carefree, and, in the heavy-footed dancing trio, comic, even faintly absurd.
The finale opens with a three-note figure, a tentative hiccup, or a stammer, which occurs throughout and is interspersed with silences and pauses. These tend to dilute much of the atmosphere that the music shares with the first movement, bringing doubt, disruption, and even a touch of melancholy. Cooper is faultless, in full technical command of the most challenging passages whilst at the same time carefully bringing out the uncertainty of atmosphere. It is Beethoven, of course, who engineers the ending, a surprising series of chords, pianissimo, which then launch a flying sequence of semiquavers that almost, but not quite, cover the stammering motif, before a bar’s worth of featherlight arpeggios bring the sonata to a close. The performance sounds spontaneous: it could almost have been captured in concert, in which case delighted applause would have been the right reaction.
As light relief between the two sonatas Cooper gives us a delicious performance of the little Hungarian Melody of 1824. It would appear that Schubert overheard a servant singing the tune in the home of Count Esterházy, in Zseliz, where he was participating in the education of the Count’s children. It’s a charming little piece, the tune now in the minor, now in the major, with a two-in-a-bar rhythmic accompaniment so regular and obsessive that the listener is rather glad the piece ends when it does.
It would be fascinating to know what Imogen Cooper thinks of these performances now, after more than five decades. In her online biography, quoted in the booklet, she says ‘… I feel strongly that I have so much more to say these days than I did in my earlier years.’ Of course she will feel that way, and of course it is true. Yet there are plentiful reasons for wanting to hear, and return to, these youthful performances. I found them so satisfying on their own terms that comparing them to others was pointless. But then, curiosity won, and I weakened. I listened to the two sonatas played by older fingers, those of Martino Tirimo in the Schubert and François-Frédéric Guy in the Beethoven. There are a few points, it is true, where these players bring out points of detail that only come, perhaps, with experience. But neither performance diminished in any way my admiration for these by the twenty-four year-old Imogen Cooper.
William Hedley
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