Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
Carnaval, op. 9
Arabesque, op. 18
Clara Schumann (1819-1896)
Soirée musicales, op. 6 no. 2
Franz Liszt (1811-1886)
Sonata in B minor
Consolation no. 3 (2nd version)
Daniel Grimwood (piano, 1856 Erard London)
rec. 2024, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, UK
Danacord DACOCD986 [75]
This is one of the most intriguing piano albums that I have come across for some time. Though the concept of performing Romantic repertoire on a period instrument is not a new one, it is the first time I’ve heard either the Schumann or Liszt pieces on an old instrument, and the result is something of a shock. Pianist Daniel Grimwood is apparently an old hand at performing Romantic scores on old instruments, having previously recorded music of Chopin and Liszt for other labels on period pianos, but I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing those. The piano in question is an 1856 “Erard London” piano belonging to the University of York. The Erard has a lovely rich tone that is not at all hampered by the slight “twang” one expects on pianos from this era. Grimwood points out in the liner notes that the strings on this piano are damped from below rather than above, a design peculiarity that gives a certain aura to the sound. The “Bach-Lehmann” temperament (identified as such on the back cover) is the tuning used; it is likely the temperament formulated by harpsichordist Bradley Lehman in 2005 via an interpretation of the curlicues on the frontispiece of the first edition of Das wohltemperirte-Clavier. It is a subtle temperament not too far from equal temperament, and should not bother those who dislike historical tunings.
The best word to describe Grimwood’s playing is “interventionist.” He has strong ideas about how all of this music goes, and he is not afraid of playing it the way he sees fit. This means interpreting the music in a manner that would likely have been familiar to audiences of the mid-19th century. (More on this later.) He announces his approach plainly in the program notes, and then, as if determined to prove he means business, leaps into the Schumann with both feet. In kicking off Carnaval, he begins with a bit of preluding, showering the listener with some choice arpeggios that establish the exuberant mood of the music to come. (For those unfamiliar with the concept, pianists of the 19th and early 20th century would improvise short introductions to pieces with the intention of outlining the key, modulating if necessary from a previous piece, and generally noodling in a manner that sets the emotional tone for what was about to happen musically. For “real life” examples of this, listen to Josef Hofmann’s Casimir Hall recital, Wilhelm Backhaus’s live recitals at Carnegie Hall, or Dinu Lipatti’s final recital.)
Preluding is just the icing on Grimwood’s musical Carnaval cake. Throughout the piece, the English pianist takes risks, utilizing all of the ammunition that would have been found in a Romantic-era pianist’s arsenal: varying repeats with intense voicing, arpeggiation, and rubato; adding ornamentation in the more lyrical movements; pushing the tempi to extremes; and yes, even breaking the hands where he deems it necessary. (Paderewski is smiling down from heaven.) Some notable moments include an unwritten but very effective accelerando in “Pierrot,” gorgeous and unexpected bel canto ornamentation added to “Replique,” very effective touches of rubato in “A.S.C.H.__S.C.H.A.” that leads attacca into a touching performance of “Chiarina.” A very Chopinesque run is inserted into the “Chopin” movement that sounds so natural that it makes one wonder why Schumann didn’t have the idea. I was a bit disappointed that Grimwood did not have a go at “Sphinxes” à la Rachmaninoff, but there is only so much one can do with that three bar “movement.” Overall, Grimwood’s performance is lithe, energetic, in constant motion, always bearing the feverish intensity that is a hallmark of the best performances of Schumann’s music. To mix some more metaphors, Grimwood’s interpretation weaves a technicolor musical tapestry that in my opinion blows other modern Carnaval contenders out of the water. I long ago relegated this piece to the “overplayed, often dull, not necessary to hear again” mental category, so I am glad to have heard Grimwood’s performance, which has rejuvenated the work for me.
The Liszt Sonata is a tougher nut to crack. Every pianist and piano-fancier who knows the piece intimately has a preferred interpretation of the work in their head, meaning that every new interpreter will bump up against mental resistance that can be difficult to overcome. The rolled and/or broken chords that I cheered in the Schumann here at times seem like gilding the lily, particularly throughout the mysterious opening and ensuing octave passages. After grumbling about the first few pages, I enjoyed his phrasing in the leadup to the big D Major second theme; as a result of that phrasing, the transition material possessed an intelligent impetus that is often lacking. (Most pianists seem impatient to just get to the tune, rather than truly building up to it.) In general, I am impressed by his willingness to shape every phrase with care, even if I occasionally disagree with how he shapes any given phrase. He is making rhetorical points, which is always preferable to a bland middle-of-the-road reading. There is some imaginative voicing in the leadup to and during the middle Andante sostenuto section, and the arpeggiations that troubled me in the opening here made sense within this most lyrical section of the sonata. The fugue is very impressive as performed on this instrument, lacking the heaviness that bedevils many pianists due to the comparatively dull action of the modern Steinway. Even in this difficult music, Grimwood finds color in the passagework. The arabesques found just before the “Stretta quasi Presto” near the end sparkle like Mendelssohn, and…it works! For once, the octaves can be balanced in melodic fashion, not simply forming a wall of sound. The rolling of the final B Major chordal peroration weakens its impact, and similar constant arpeggiation in the “Andante sostenuto” draw attention in an unwanted manner. I find the rolling of the F Major chord several bars before the end, however, to be oddly affecting.
The filler pieces are lovely without commanding the same interest as the “main events,” though attention should be called to Grimwood’s characterful preluding before the Liszt Consolation no. 3.
All in all, this is a fantastic, thought-provoking recording, and I hope to hear more of Mr. Grimwood’s playing of Romantic repertoire on period instruments.
Richard Masters
Previous review: John France (February 2025)
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