
I’m the first to confess that I’m not much of an Aaron Copland fan. His “Americana” or “Populist” or at least popular works (whatever you want to call them), in particular, just don’t do it for me. I have heard some of his less popular music, and found that more to my liking, and his opera
The Tender Land as conducted by erstwhile local conductor Murry Sidlin at a venue I know is worth a listen or two. When I saw that Robert Silverman’s 1970s recordings of four of Copland’s piano works had been reissued at Naxos price by Marquis Classics, I figured it couldn’t hurt to give old Aaron a shot.
The disc opens with Copland’s piano sonata from 1941, and this work falls squarely into Copland’s modernist compositions. The piece opens with some nicely appealing, if it’s your thing, angular (or spiky or jagged) music played with crisp, hard staccato by Silverman, something he’s adept at. The music and playing eases up a bit after a while, but it doesn’t exactly become Rach-like. It remains dense and difficult. And that’s just the Molto moderato opening section. (The work is one long movement.) The Vivace section sounds a bit lighter, at least for a time, but it remains spiky, and the louder passages come across nicely as Silverman hits them keys hard. The piece closes with a long Andante sostenuto that manages a very complex trick, and one I’ve heard very rarely: it stays resolutely modern and abstract and difficult, but it also sounds beautiful, at least at times. Much credit must be given to Silverman for this, of course, but the music does sound attractive and supremely serene. The music
almost pulls off that time-suspension trick, and in some ways it sounds like a modern equivalent of the second movement of LvB’s 111. I still prefer the Bonn master’s work – it is, after all, one of the supreme masterpieces of all music – but this work exceeded expectations. It’s quite good and will earn repeated listens.
The rest of the disc isn’t up the same standard. The
Passacaglia from 1922 sound very formal and serious and never really offers the type of musical nourishment I hunger for. It’s rather plain. The
Four Piano Blues, written between 1926 and 1948 for four different pianists including Andor Foldes and William Kapell, are better. The first is heavy, probing, and deliberate; the second lighter, more lyrical, and more playful; the third sounds beefy yet warm and glowing, while retaining a serious formality; the fourth is rhythmically spry and angular. All have jazzy elements. The disc rounds out with
The Cat and the Mouse from 1920, which is jaunty, scampering, fun, and fresh, with a broad dynamic range.
This very short disc (46’ or so) is thus mostly about the sonata, which is quite a work. The younger Robert Silverman trumps the older Robert Silverman in terms of technique, and his musical sensibility is assured. The only problem with the disc is the sound. Extraneous noises interrupt the music throughout. I can’t tell if it’s someone breathing really heavy, or something scraping along the ground or a wall, or just tape distortion or deterioration, or all that and more, but it does become a bit bothersome at times. So does the occasional post-echo from the analog tapes. Those caveats aside, this disc proved to be a nice, ear opening experience.