Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)
Piano Concerto No 2 in C minor, Op 18 (1900-1901)
Mélodie (Morceaux de fantasie, Op 3) (1892)
Fritz Kreisler (1875-1962)
Liebeslied (1905, arr. Rachmaninoff, 1921)
Sergei Rachmaninoff
Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op 42 (1931)
In the silence of the Secret Night
from Six Songs, Op 4 (1890-1893, arr. Kirill Gerstein 2023
Kirill Gerstein (piano)
Berliner Philharmoniker/Kirill Petrenko
rec. 2022/2023, Waldbühne, Berlin, Germany; Philharmonie, Berlin, Germany
Berliner Philharmoniker Recordings BPHR230469 SACD [61]
We have become very used to lavish, multi-disc releases on the Berlin Philharmonic’s own label, but they have chosen to celebrate the 150th anniversary of Rachmaninoff’s birth by issuing a single SACD. However, there is no diminution in quality: the performances are as excellent as one would expect from this source and the same applies to the quality of the recorded sound. Moreover, the documentation is absolutely consistent with this label’s usual high standards; not only are there useful short notes on each of the works contained in the programme but in addition there is a very valuable and stylishly-written essay by Rebecca Mitchell about the composer, setting the music on this disc in context.
Though the orchestra’s chief conductor, Kirill Petrenko only takes part in the concerto performance, Ms Mitchell makes it clear that the design of the programme has been very much a joint enterprise between Petrenko and pianist Kirill Gerstein. As we shall see, the solo piano works have been discerningly selected.
The programme opens with a live account of the celebrated Second Piano Concerto. Not long ago, I reviewed a performance in which Yuja Wang was joined by the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Gustavo Dudamel. I found much to admire in the performance but I was bothered by the recorded sound – a feeling that has, if anything, increased subsequently. The DG sound seemed bass-heavy and I felt Ms Wang was too prominent in the overall texture. In short, the recording was a bit in-your-face. No such reservations apply here. Kirill Gerstein is well balanced against the orchestra; he doesn’t dominate the proceedings, though his playing can always be clearly heard. The orchestra is very successfully reported in the recording – for example, there’s a welcome abundance of woodwind detail in the first movement. In her essay, Rebecca Mitchell justly observes that “[f]or a successful rendition, the concerto requires close interaction between orchestra and soloist, who constantly exchange melodies and accompaniment in close dialogue”. Here, the skill of the performers and the engineers ensures that this is exactly what happens.
In the first movement, the lyrical ebb and flow of Gerstein’s playing impresses. He and Petrenko ensure that the music maintains a healthy momentum, though the more reflective episodes receive their due. At the start of the second movement, I loved the wistful delivery of the important clarinet solo (by Wenzel Fuchs, I presume). A tender, gently melancholic performance unfolds, though there’s suitable ardour at climaxes. Though the romantic nature of the music is fully brought out, Gerstein and Petrenko never allow any hint of self-indulgence; their view of the music is ideally balanced. A key passage comes at 7:50 when the piano reprises the musing heard at the beginning. This time it’s the violins, rather than the clarinet, who take up the lovely tune. The silky delicacy of the Berlin strings is wonderful to hear; there’s such refinement in their playing and such finesse in their phrasing. Gerstein offers dazzling playing in the finale. Once again, I admired the give and take between soloist and orchestra. When the famous big tune arrives, Petrenko allows no wallowing; the expressiveness is proportionate and I very much like that. The relative restraint shown towards this theme means that when the tune achieves its apotheosis (9:20) it does so in a way that is at once sweeping and affirmative. This is a distinguished and perceptive account of the concerto; I enjoyed it very much indeed.
Because the solo part of the programme has been so cleverly devised it makes sense to consider the items in order. Mélodie from the Morceaux de fantasie dates from 1892. I learned from Rebecca Mitchell’s essay that Rachmaninoff produced a more elaborate revised version in 1940 but she confirms that Gerstein here offers the original version. It’s a simple, unaffected piece which he plays poetically. Then comes Rachmaninoff’s tribute to his friend and frequent collaborator, Fritz Kreisler in the shape of an elaborate arrangement of Kreisler’s 1905 salon piece Liebeslied. Ms Mitchell draws a very apt parallel with the arrangements of songs by Schubert and others which Liszt made. I’m afraid I’m allergic to most of those Lisztian transcriptions; they seem to me to smother the original. I have to say, though, that I like Rachmaninoff’s elaboration of Liebeslied.
There’s a strong Kreisler link with the Variations on a Theme of Corelli. Kreisler was the dedicatee of this splendid set of variations on the old dance tune La Folia, which Corelli himself had used as the basis of a set of variations in his Sonata Op 5, No 12. The recording tracks each section of the work separately, which is a great help. As he was to do a few years later in the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Rachmaninoff here proves himself a master of variation form. The variations are concise and inventive, giving a thorough work-out, both to the theme and to the pianist’s technique. All the while, even in the most virtuosic passages, Rachmaninoff keeps the theme firmly within earshot. Gerstein gives a terrific performance. I liked the mysterious delivery of Variation 4 and also the turbulence and power he brings to Variation 7. Later, the dark-hued musings in Variations 8 and 9 are atmospherically done. The quasi-improvisatory Intermezzo shows both flair and virtuosity, and a little further on I relished the delicacy with which Variation 15 is played. The penultimate section, Variation 20, is delivered with great power and then the Coda brings both work and performance full circle to a very satisfying conclusion.
Kirill Gerstein ends the disc with his own very recent transcription of Rachmaninoff’s early song In the silence of the Secret Night. He gave the first performance in Berlin just a few days before the performance captured in this recording. The song, written in 1892, is dedicated to Vera Skalon, one of three sisters who Rachmaninoff met in the summer of 1890; there was a brief teenage romance between him and Vera. Unsurprisingly, the song is full of youthful ardour. I think Gerstein’s transcription is very successful – Rebecca Mitchell gives us some insights into changes he has made in order to refashion the music as a piano solo. It’s a very pleasing conclusion to this recital.
I enjoyed this disc very much indeed. Kirill Gerstein’s playing is a consistent delight and in the concerto his partnership with Kirill Petrenko and the Berlin Philharmonic yields excellent results. The engineers have recorded his Steinway really well, both in the concerto and in the solo items. The richness of the instrument’s sound, especially at the bass end, is readily apparent yet the brilliance of the upper registers is conveyed just as realistically. As I indicated earlier, the balance between piano and orchestra is well achieved in the concerto; the orchestra emerges, rightfully, as a true partner in the music-making. I listened to the stereo layer of the SACD and was impressed by the definition and presence of the sound. This label has consistently set high standards when it comes to documentation. This release is no exception: I learned much from Rebecca Mitchell’s informative and insightful essay.
In all respects, this disc is a worthy 150th anniversary tribute to Rachmaninoff.
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