Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915)
Complete Piano Sonatas (1891-1913)
Deux morceaux, Op. 57 (1908)
Feuillet d’album, Op. 58 (1908)
Nuno Cernadas (piano)
rec. 2023, Concert Hall, Royal Conservatory of Music, Brussels
Et’cetera KTC1815 [2 CDs: 128]

Nuno Cernadas is a Portuguese pianist who has won a number of prizes and begun what looks as if it is going to be a successful career. He is currently based in Brussels where he is working towards a Ph. D. as well as continuing his playing career. This is his first recording.

The Scriabin sonatas are a dauntingly ambitious choice for a debut. In the first place they are technically very demanding: there is a great deal of complex writing, in the earlier works of the bravura kind and in the later ones with extreme elaboration, complex polyrhythms, rapid chords, sudden changes of mood and meltingly tender passages alternating swiftly. Then, while the earlier ones are in a tradition of Russian pianism which takes off from Liszt, Chopin and Schumann, the later ones are influenced by Scriabin’s theosophical beliefs and move into very strange regions indeed. His highly chromatic idiom and his complex writing flood the keyboard with sound and require very subtle pedalling if it is not to turn into mush. And finally, while these sonatas, apart from the fifth, were fringe repertoire for a long time, they have now been taken up by several leading pianists and there are already a number of complete cycles of them. Despite their formal weaknesses they evoke a unique atmosphere: there is nothing really like them, hence their fascination.

They are not presented here in chronological order, so I shall discuss them in the order Cernadas has chosen. The first, in four movements, is the most traditional, though I feel that the Lisztian bravura tends to obscure rather than reveal the themes. This is a comment on the work, not the performance, which is admirably forthright. The second movement begins with sombre chords before moving into a more flowing lament. The third movement is fast and furious but there is a sudden shift to the finale, which is a funeral march, echoing Chopin.

The second sonata, subtitled Sonata-Fantasy gave the composer a good deal of trouble, and he took several years over it. It is in two movements. The first is marked Andante, which suggests something gentle, but the first subject is peremptory while the second is flowing in a way which anticipates later works. The second movement is a manic Presto, which owes something to the finale of Chopin’s B flat minor sonata,

There is an abrupt change of mood as we move to the sixth sonata, the first of the group of the last five, in Scriabin’s fully mature manner. All these are in one movement. This is a powerful and sinister work, with dark brooding harmonies, sudden flashes of light and yearning themes trying to break free. It culminates in a manic dance which at one point goes right off the top of most keyboards.

The eighth sonata, which follows, is the longest of the last group, and for me it has a tendency to sprawl. Cernadas holds it together nicely, and I particularly enjoyed his fluent rendering of the rapid downward passage in fourths which occurs several times. This work shows in acute form an issue which applies to some extent to all the late sonatas: in this idiom, traditional notions of key have disappeared, so that the tonal contrasts of classical sonata form no longer apply and there can seem no particular logic to the appearance and reappearance of the various themes.

Anyway, this is followed by the ninth sonata, which is indeed tightly argued, and is, if anything, even more sinister than the sixth: someone called it Black Mass, a title which Scriabin accepted. Unusually for Scriabin the two hands share some of the same material, particularly in the opening motif, and the second theme features repeated notes, again an unusual feature. It works up to a fearsome climax before being persuaded to calm down. That concludes the first disc.

The second disc begins with the third sonata, which like the first – but no other – is in four movements. This seems to me a transitional work. The bravura of the first movement is somewhat tamed compared to its predecessors. The second movement, despite being marked Allegretto, is a ferocious scherzo rather like Chopin’s scherzos. The third movement is lyrical, but the finale rides a dotted rhythm rather to death, in the manner of some of Schumann’s sonata movements.

The fourth sonata, in two movements, is a complete success. The first movement, Andante, is radiant and glowing, where the complex writing requiring three staves nevertheless illuminates the material, itself really attractive. The second and last movement is a Prestissimo dance movement of a kind of which Scriabin became increasingly fond, and it builds up to a triumphant close.

The fifth sonata, the first of the one movement ones, is an old warhorse, and I did wonder whether Cernadas could give us a fresh interpretation. That he does, with the fast sections suitably light and nimble – and also dry, with the pedal lifted – while the languid passages are nicely turned and not too slow. The ending goes off like a rocket, as it should.

Before the final two sonatas we have an interlude of three short pieces. Cernadas explains that he chose the Deux Morceaux Op. 57, Désir and Caresse dansée, because of their ‘atmosphere of voluptuousness, longing and sensuality,’ while the Feuillet d’album Op. 58 features the six-note ‘mystic chord’ which dominates all Scriabin’s last works, including the symphonic poem Prometheus.

The seventh sonata is subtitled White Mass – and this time this was the composer’s title – and it is, notionally anyway, contrasted to the ninth, though to me it seems not so different, though certainly less sinister. It culminates in a huge twenty-five note chord.

The final sonata starts quite gently with a meandering chromatic theme, though later trills are very much in evidence. The writing is somewhat simpler than in the other late sonatas and there is a melancholy about most of this piece until, near the end, it suddenly breaks free and seem to float in the air, a magical passage.

I did not know quite what to expect when I took this on for review. I have been very favourably impressed: Cernadas both understands this music and has the technique to play it. He writes his own notes with many interesting ideas about the works. The recording is good. Scriabin enthusiasts who are interested in an alternative to Marc-André Hamelin or Dmitri Alexeev should consider this.

Stephen Barber

Buying this recording via a link below generates revenue for MWI and helps us keep free access to the site