Hoang Pham is a young pianist of Vietnamese background who studied in Australia and subsequently the US. He now has an international career, appearing frequently in America and Europe. In 2013 he gave a series of recitals in Melbourne, one of which is preserved in this live recording.  Pham’s program is formidable: Beethoven’s Pathétique, Scriabin’s Poème and Sonata No 9 (Black Mass), Bach’s Partita No 2 and, last but not least, Liszt’s Petrarch Sonnet and Dante Sonata from the Second Year of Pilgrimage (Italy).  At first I thought one of the less often played Beethoven sonatas would have been a smarter choice, however, this is a fresh and first-rate performance of the Pathétique. The drama of the first movement is well paced, the cantabile of the second movement affecting, and the finale exhilarating. The contrasting works by Scriabin are possibly the highlight of the recital. Pham presents the composer’s rigorous, highly chromatic late Sonata with great clarity of line.  He is clearly a pianist who relishes the Romantic tradition, once again emphasising the lyrical side of Liszt’s Petrarch Sonnet (a piano transcription of an earlier song) and plunging fearlessly into the pianistic rhetoric of the Dante Sonata. If this piece…

SSO on form helping Lukáš Vondráček to scale the mountain that is “The Rach 3”. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Brilliant pianists tend to be either jaw-dropping virtuosos or they are intensely musical. James Brawn, at 42 years of age, while having the chops at his disposal to negotiate the thundering octaves of Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz No 1 or Mussorgsky’s Great Gate at Kiev belongs in the second category. He is a musician first: you hear it in the clarity of line maintained throughout the extensive variations of Busoni’s monumental arrangement of the Chaconne from Bach’s Violin Partita No 2, the gentle cantabile of Liszt’s Consolation No 3, and the unaffected fluidity of the C Major Prelude from Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier. Brawn was born in England, but spent his early years in New Zealand and Australia, where he first studied piano. He has won many prizes. For a while he returned to Melbourne to teach at Scotch College but in 2010 moved back to the UK to resume his concert career – of which this and two discs of Beethoven sonatas are a product. The title “In Recital” reflects the judiciously chosen program; the disc does not seem to have been recorded live in concert.  The centrepiece is the Mussorgsky, where Brawn takes a thoughtful approach. He is more…

Bavouzet and Noseda give us a mighty impressive overview of the Prokofiev piano concertos in this cleanly recorded set. While having all the necessary power at his disposal for big climactic moments – such as the monumental cadenza in the Second Concerto – overall, Bavouzet concentrates on the poetry and capriciousness of Prokofiev’s writing. The young composer, in Bavouzet’s hands, sounds more enfant than terrible. The Frenchman’s light-fingered fleetness pays dividends in the First and Third Concertos, but it is in Nos Four and Five where he is truly revelatory. Previously in complete sets of these works I have had the feeling that the Fourth (for left hand only) was not terribly familiar to the musicians and that they performed it rarely in concert. In his booklet note, Bavouzet relates how he studied the piece closely at a time when his right hand was giving him trouble. (Fortunately for him – and for us – he made a full recovery.) His familiarity shows in the way he shapes musical phrases, bringing colour to a work that is sometimes regarded as grey and unmemorable. His pace is an asset in the quirky Fifth Concerto. Bavouzet shines in places where you… Continue…

How did one composer document, and survive, the 20th century’s most brutal political experiment? Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

These are exciting performances of two of Prokofiev’s masterpieces but both leave something to be desired. Matsuev has fingers of steel, and once we get past a strangely uninflected opening statement from the clarinet, the Allegro gets underway with a vengeance. Russian musicians are running this performance, and this is the Russian way of playing Prokofiev: hard and fast. There’s no denying the adrenalin rush but subtlety falls by the wayside. It’s bad luck for Matsuev that a set of the Prokofiev concertos has just appeared from Chandos – Jean-Efflam Bavouzet seeks out the lyrical and capricious in Prokofiev while keeping plenty of strength in reserve. In comparison, Matsuev and Gergiev seem blustery and unpolished. In the wartime Symphony No 5, Gergiev nails certain moments like no one else. The climactic theme of the first movement, punctuated by tam-tam and cymbals, is as visceral as could be. However, this theme is played twice and he rushes through the first statement perfunctorily. The passage is more effective in the hands of Karajan and Levine (to cite two first-rate recordings). The scherzo and finale are briskly delivered but Gergiev meanders through the slow movement until the point where musical tension begins to…

This set contains recordings made between 1993 and 1996 and includes most of the major orchestral works by the short-lived late Romantic Max Reger (1873-1916). Missing are the Violin Concerto, the Hiller Variations and the early Sinfonietta. However, two sets of variations on themes by Mozart and Beethoven are included, each closing with a monumental fugue. Reger was renowned as an organist, and his orchestration is conceived in organ terms: sections predominate rather than individual instrumental colours. Segerstam’s disciplined and refined performances, spaciously recorded, emphasise this. The conductor is demonstrably attuned to Reger’s style in two expressionistic works. The first is virtually a single-movement symphony, entitled Symphonic Prologue to a Tragedy (1908); the second, a series of tone-pictures inspired by paintings by Böcklin. With his restless chromatic sequences, Reger sometimes takes so long getting to the point that you wonder if there is any point at all. This certainly applies to the 45-minute Piano Concerto of 1910, which is Brahms on steroids. It demands musicians who revel in larger-than-life romantic gestures. Pianist Love Derwinger understands this, and makes a more convincing case for the work than the emotionally detached Marc-André Hamelin on a recent Hyperion disc. This is good value…

Michael Kieran Harvey is one of Australia’s great pianists, his virtuoso technique evident in the most challenging pieces imaginable.

In the 1920s, Paul Hindemith was well and truly aboard the Modernist bandwagon, writing “shocking” absurdist operas employing bitonal harmony and even jazz. His violin sonatas, however, bypassed all this. His first two appeared in 1919 and 1920, predating his iconoclastic period, while the later sonatas date from 1935 and 1939, by which time he had left youthful hijinks behind.  Though Brahms would have found them mystifying, in the early works Hindemith breathes the same air as the older master. No 2 gets a strong performance from German violinist Tanja Becker-Bender and her Hungarian partner Péter Nagy. They are thoroughly inside the idiom, capturing the slightly lugubrious atmosphere of the slow movement. They also show fine rapport in the later C Major Sonata, when Becker-Benda lightens her tone for the fleeting scale passages at the close of the Langsam movement.Elsewhere they can turn abrasive – Hindemith’s music doesn’t need help to sound tough – and at forte Becker-Bender’s tone becomes wiry in the upper register.  Recent competition in Op 11 No 1 and the two later sonatas comes from Frank Peter Zimmermann on BIS. His tone is easier on the ear, and his musicianship (and that of his pianist Enrico…

Canadian pianist Angela Hewitt initially became known for her Bach but lately she has ranged farther afield with composers such as Chabrier and Fauré. The last eight years have seen her gradually recording the complete Beethoven piano sonatas. This is the first disc in that series I have heard, and it is just terrific. In this program, Hewitt brings together the sunniest of the late sonatas (No 28, Op 101), the wittiest of the middle period sonatas (No 18: Op 31, No 3) and the rarely played Sonata No 11, Op 27. Without going to inappropriate extremes, she relishes dynamic contrasts and pays attention to detail with unfailing subtlety –yet, far from sounding studied, her playing retains a sense of spontaneity. Take the Allegro finale of the A Major sonata: Switching unexpectedly from exuberance to tenderness, intimate one moment and forthright the next, Hewitt makes it sound like a brilliant improvisation. Hewitt’s thoughtful, responsive performance of Sonata No 11 makes one wonder why the piece is not more popular (competition is fierce among the Beethoven sonatas, admittedly!) The first and third movements show us the composer in a playful mood, handling musical motifs like a juggler, while the second movement…

Benjamin Britten’s three string quartets are not the only works he wrote for this medium but they are certainly the most important, forming cornerstones of his compositional career. The First, composed in America in 1941, comes from the period when the young composer was still showing off his extraordinary technical prowess. The Second, which concludes with a 15-minute chaconne of Beethovenian depth, was written in the wake of Peter Grimes, while the Third, at the end of his life, quotes from his final opera Death in Venice. Thanks to the recent Britten centenary, several new recordings of his quartets are now on the market, including one by the Endellion Quartet (Warner Classics), and a two-disc set from the Emperor Quartet on the BIS label. The latter boasts detailed and polished performances, but the Takács players trump them in verve and emotional commitment. How well the Takács capture the intensity of the Second Quartet’s Vivace movement, or the power and grandeur of the Chacony’s closing bars. They miss a degree of introversion and nostalgia in the Third Quartet, where Britten – like his friend Shostakovich – uses the medium to make a highly personal statement, in this case one of farewell….

Unlike some of today’s prodigies, Rusian pianist Daniil Trifonov (b. 1992) shows every sign of artistic maturity in this live recital, given at New York’s Carnegie Hall in February 2013, where he made his American debut in 2009, aged 18. Two years ago he recorded a Chopin disc for Decca, but this live recital truly puts him on the world stage and signifies a distinguished career ahead. Trifonov’s program comprises the Liszt B Minor Sonata, Scriabin’s Second Piano Sonata, Chopin’s 24 Preludes Op 28 and a short piece by Medtner. The contents of that program suggest his great Soviet predecessor, Sviatoslav Richter. Trifonov does not approach Richter in sheer power and concentration – who ever could? – yet he has more to offer than merely spectacular technique. Subtle and affecting at the soft end of the dynamic spectrum, Trifonov also understands “the demonic element” (as his champion Martha Argerich put it).  His Liszt Sonata is truly grounded. Last year I was impressed by Khatia Buniatshvili’s recording, which fizzed with edgy energy, but Trifonov’s less volatile but no less expressive approach properly anchors the work. His lyrical gift is evident in the way he coaxes the chorale theme out of the depths…