Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat major, Op. 73, ‘Emperor’ (1809)
Brett Dean (b. 1961)
Piano Concerto (Gneixendorfer Musik – A Winter’s Journey) (2020)
Jonathan Biss (piano)
Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra/David Afkham
rec. live, February 2020, Berwaldhallen, Stockholm
Orchid Classics ORC100291 [65]
In a characteristically thoughtful booklet note, Jonathan Biss refers to Beethoven’s piano concertos as ‘the very essence of great music’. But he also has this to say: ‘With so many opportunities to hear them, there is a tendency to forget to listen to them’ (his italics). I am in complete agreement with this, and whilst my main motivation in requesting this disc for review was to hear the piano concerto by Brett Dean, the Beethoven, played by a pianist who always gives his audiences reasons to listen (my italics), provided an opportunity too enticing to pass over.
This live performance receives a warm welcome from the Swedish audience – complete with a ‘bravo!’ – as well it might. The string section sounds to be fairly small in number, giving a most attractive prominence to the wind. Orchestral textures are exceptionally clean, the horns’ magical moment in the orchestral introduction a particularly attractive example. This extreme clarity of texture and articulation spills over into the orchestra’s interaction with the soloist, especially when the dynamic level is low. Indeed, the quieter passages are particularly beguiling throughout, with Biss making his right hand melodies really sing. The passage leading into the return of the first movement’s opening music is particularly expertly handled; and the corresponding passage in the finale is also beautifully done, the only occasion where there is any extended interruption to the music’s main pulse. This finale supplies necessary energy where required, but the more cantabile passages are lilting and attractive. The string playing at the opening of the slow movement is particularly sweet, and Biss gives us some deeply expressive and even romantic playing in the following passage.
In this performance of the ‘Emperor’ we appreciate the skilful balance between classical sensibility and emerging romanticism. Some will find it a performance on a smallish scale, but this is the wrong way to appreciate it. It is certainly not a grandiose, barnstorming performance, but nor is there anything lacking. On the contrary, the extreme precision, attention to detail, and poise of the playing bring huge advantages. As to where it stands compared to the innumerable other performances available, one wonders if there is any point in asking. Serkin, with Bernstein (Sony, 1962), is steely and magisterial. Bernstein introduces a crescendo into the orchestral chords that open the work. It is a big performance, one of its time, as is, in its own way, the young Barenboim’s reading with Klemperer (EMI, 1967). Later in his career we find Barenboim as conductor with Rubinstein at the keyboard (RCA, 1975), a gentler though no less valid performance. Performances in recent years have tended to move towards a more classical view Beethoven. Biss is fleet of foot, but there is granite in his playing where it is required. His playing is characterised by close attention to the score’s dynamic and expression markings, and it is full of imaginative detail that delights and does not distract. It is a superb performance.
The logo on the booklet cover, ‘Beethoven 5, Vol. 1’, suggests that this disc is only the first of a tantalising series. Beethoven/5 was a project launched by Biss in 2015. The idea was to commission a new piano concerto from each of five composers, each one to be a response, ‘in whatever way they see fit’, and to pair with, one particular Beethoven concerto. The five composers are Timo Andres, Sally Beamish, Salvatore Sciarrino, Caroline Shaw and Brett Dean. Dean was asked to take the ‘Emperor’ as his starting point, so this pairing is the final instalment in the project, though apparently the first to be recorded. On the strength of this issue we have many joys to look forward to.
Brett Dean’s Piano Concerto is sub-titled ‘Gneixendorfer Music – A Winter’s Journey’, and its starting point was a visit to the Austrian village of Gneixendorf where Beethoven himself had spent several weeks in the year before his death. It is in three movements – fast, slow, fast – played without a break, and runs for about 25 minutes. Each movement has a superscription with a link to this closing period in Beethoven’s life. The title of the first movement, for instance, is ‘Gneixendorf? That sounds like a breaking axle! (Choosing it was perhaps a bit of wry humour on the composer’s part.) The movement is made up of music of immense power, drive and violence, with a quieter, rather mysterious passage at its centre. There are three clear quotations from the ‘Emperor’ Concerto – as seen through Dean’s distorting mirror – and there may well be others more cunningly hidden. The music is highly dissonant, the piano writing frequently in toccata style with what sound like much two-part writing. The soloist begins the concerto on an upright piano played within the orchestra. The damper pedal is depressed throughout, giving the sound a muffled quality that the composer suggests might be heard as a metaphor for Beethoven’s deteriorating hearing. Even after the soloist returns to the grand piano in its usual place in front of the orchestra there are, according to the composer, ‘a couple’ more visits to the second piano later in the work. This aspect of the work is not particularly noticeable in this recorded performance. The slow movement brings complete contrast, almost static; the soloist duets with the wind instruments, and there is frequent figuration over long held notes in the orchestra. There is not much in the way of a theme, but about half way through the piano writing blossoms into something like melody. This leads to a climax after which more energetic music, short-lived, threatens to take us somewhere else. Instead, a slow, sombre descent into the lowest regions of the keyboard leads into the finale, ‘Epilogue. Applause, friends, the comedy is over’. The driving energy and constant movement are maintained throughout this finale of less than three minutes. The piano writing is, once again, highly percussive and with much single line texture. In this it will put some listeners in mind of Prokofiev, or perhaps even the finale of Ravel’s G major concerto, albeit using a far more radical musical vocabulary than either of those two masters. The ending is abrupt; not quite witty, because the music is too dark in intent. It takes the audience by surprise, as it did this listener.
Biss puts in an astonishing performance of what sounds like a fiendish technical and musical challenge. Learning the work was, he attests, ‘punishing, frankly’. The orchestral playing would seem to be equally masterly, the whole team under the direction of David Afkham. The recordings are fine, good concert hall sound with perfect balance and no artificial highlighting. The annotations are excellent. I cannot recommend this disc too highly.
William Hedley
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