Yep, I do immensely enjoy the Grieg Piano Concerto. Always have. Start to finish, it delights, but the slow movement and the slow section of the finale just gets me every single time I listen, at least in better performances. Over the years, I've read some disparaging remarks about the work, and a few people seem to not hold it in the highest regard. Maybe this has to do with its comparative popularity – how can something that is popular be good? – but maybe not. That doesn't matter, either way. When I look at available recordings, I see that many titans of the piano have recorded it, some multiple times. It's this fact that contributes to me liking it so. When I can listen to Michelangeli and then Freire and then Andsnes, well, what's not to love? I decided it was time to systematically work my way through this work to find the greatest recording. Well, sort of. Since I first heard it, Leif Ove Andsnes' second recording with Mariss Jansons has stood as my favorite. So really, this exercise in musical excess will determine if that recording holds up against the onslaught.
Note that only the final version of the concerto will be surveyed, so Love Derwinger's recording of the original version will not be included. Also not included is Robert Riefling's recording because I have not made it a point to buy an LP copy and also because whichever entity owns the Valois catalog is committing a crime against humanity by not issuing all of his LP era recordings.
What better way to start out than with not one, not two, not three, but four recordings by Arthur Rubinstein?
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First, the 1942 recording with Eugene Ormandy and the Phillies. Tight timps launch the work, Rubinstein forcefully announces his presence, the band responds, then Rubinstein comes back, all big chords, then jaunty playing. Then finally the hypnotically beautiful tunes arrive. Both band and soloist go back and forth, and the middle-aged soloist zips through many of the passages. Ormandy makes sure to let the strings luxuriate, and one hears some old world portamento and style. The cadenza has a free-wheeling sound to it, which it should since it is essentially live. The second movement sounds very beautiful, but also pretty quick, with Rubinstein, in particular, not going slow anywhere. The finale starts extra zippy before backing off to those gorgeous melodies, and here Rubinstein heaps on the beautiful playing. The final two-thirds or so is all zippy, high-energy, high drama playing.
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Next up, Dorati and the RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra from 1949. One immediately notices the superior sound, with crisper timps, more punch, more clarity in Rubinstein's playing, and while noticeably longer, the first movement flows better, with less tension in the slower playing and more in the faster playing. The sound is so much more vivid, and Rubinstein storms the heavens so much more effectively, that I am guessing this is an early tape recording, with the editing options that allowed for. Of course, it was recorded in one day, so I don't know for sure. What I do know is that the superior sound and benefit of more relaxed when appropriate playing benefits the slow movement even more than in the first recording. Rubinstein keeps the tempi brisk overall, but layers on lovely legato in some passages. The final burst forth with energy at the start, with Dorati making Ormandy seem undisciplined. The slow, beautiful section benefits from closely recorded winds and gentler playing from the soloist, but overall, the movement is about bravura playing. A step up from the recording with Ormandy.
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Next, the first stereo recording with Alfred Wallenstein and the RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra, from 1956. Tempi are broadened a bit, and the benefits of stereo recording are evident. Wallenstein gets solid playing from the cellos (he'd better), and all the strings, with those extra mics picking up some nice little figurations. All the while, Rubinstein's tone sounds more beautiful, his tempi less pressed, his playing perhaps a little less rock solid than before. The slow movement is where this version shows its strengths. More fine cello playing, and gorgeous playing from Rubinstein permeate the movement. In the finale, there's still drama and drive, and beautiful playing in the slow section, and it sounds more laid-back romantic than fiery, when compared to the Dorati.
We are are reading this, just allowing you space to post your ideas and opinions. I have all four AR recordings thanks to owning the big pink box.
I also have the pink doorstopper... The Grieg concerto is probably the piece I have most recordings of "by accident". That is, I am not sure I ever bought a disc for that piece but I still got about 10 in boxes or as "fillers": 4x AR, Michelangeli, Cziffra, Fleisher, Freire, 2x Andsnes.
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The last Rubinstein, also with Alfred Wallenstein and the RCA Victor Symphony Orchestra, from 1961. The elderly Rubinstein's take is the broadest of all. The more distantly recorded piano aside, the interpretation is the same, just slower. That yields the most beautiful of all slow movements and slow section of the finale, but the overall energy level is lower, though Wallenstein still brings it home nicely.
You started this thread the morning after I unfortunately had a disappointing live experience with the Grieg concerto. Dallas Symphony with Paul Lewis.
Before the performance started, I told my girlfriend that Grieg's is probably my single favorite piano concerto. I consider it to be formally perfect: it starts with a real attention-getting bang, the first movement rightly builds to the solo cadenza as the climax of the structure, the slow movement is utterly gorgeous and the perfect length, and the finale is a romp that knows exactly when to end, too. Concise, exciting, beautiful, showy, fun.
Unfortunately, Paul Lewis' vision of the piece matched some of his recorded work: too soft, too slow, too quick to mistake the profound and the lame. My girlfriend observed that several times, conductor Ryan Bancroft seemed to disagree with Lewis about tempi, Bancroft wanting to go faster. The first movement was a conventional tempo, but rhythmically soft. The slow movement stretched out to about 7:15. Thankfully, the finale did meet standards, but still with a certain excessive broadening out for the lovely secondary subject.
This has understandably left me jonesing for a peppy, propulsive recording in the 26-27 minute range. Might put on Rubinstein 2 later today.
While I'm boringly soapboxing: my first exposure to the Grieg concerto was when I went and bought my own CD of it. My parents didn't keep any Grieg in the house because Mom had somehow learned that he was a scary Modernist, like Berg or Webern. I still remember picking up the Naxos disc of the concerto (with Havard Gimse) and Symphonic Dances at our local Borders bookstore, going to the checkout line, and hearing Mom say, "You're buying GRIEG?!??!?! Are you SURE??"
Quote from: Brian on January 17, 2023, 09:57:10 AMYou started this thread the morning after I unfortunately had a disappointing live experience with the Grieg concerto. Dallas Symphony with Paul Lewis.
Before the performance started, I told my girlfriend that Grieg's is probably my single favorite piano concerto. I consider it to be formally perfect: it starts with a real attention-getting bang, the first movement rightly builds to the solo cadenza as the climax of the structure, the slow movement is utterly gorgeous and the perfect length, and the finale is a romp that knows exactly when to end, too. Concise, exciting, beautiful, showy, fun.
Unfortunately, Paul Lewis' vision of the piece matched some of his recorded work: too soft, too slow, too quick to mistake the profound and the lame. My girlfriend observed that several times, conductor Ryan Bancroft seemed to disagree with Lewis about tempi, Bancroft wanting to go faster. The first movement was a conventional tempo, but rhythmically soft. The slow movement stretched out to about 7:15. Thankfully, the finale did meet standards, but still with a certain excessive broadening out for the lovely secondary subject.
This has understandably left me jonesing for a peppy, propulsive recording in the 26-27 minute range. Might put on Rubinstein 2 later today.
While I'm boringly soapboxing: my first exposure to the Grieg concerto was when I went and bought my own CD of it. My parents didn't keep any Grieg in the house because Mom had somehow learned that he was a scary Modernist, like Berg or Webern. I still remember picking up the Naxos disc of the concerto (with Havard Gimse) and Symphonic Dances at our local Borders bookstore, going to the checkout line, and hearing Mom say, "You're buying GRIEG?!??!?! Are you SURE??"
Disappointing to hear about Lewis.
My introduction to the Grieg and Schumann concertos was at 14 when it served as part of the inflight music on an El Al flight from New York to Tel Aviv. The music hooked me so much I played them four or five times over the course of the flight (it was a 13 hour flight; this was back in 1973). I have no idea of who the performers were. My first recording for my own use ended up being the Geza Anda performance of both.
I was barely born then and probably should not be that surprised that there were direct flights from New York to Tel Aviv in 1973 but I am even more surprised that there was inflight music back then. How did this work? A tape on repeat and then one plugged in personal headphones?
Quote from: Jo498 on January 18, 2023, 03:20:02 AMI was barely born then and probably should not be that surprised that there were direct flights from New York to Tel Aviv in 1973 but I am even more surprised that there was inflight music back then. How did this work? A tape on repeat and then one plugged in personal headphones?
Sort of, although music was piped in to the seats, the airline provided the headphones,and several programs were offered, American pop, Israeli pop, etc. Only one classical program was offered.
My group spent a week in Rome after three weeks in Israel, and the flight back from Rome to New York was so delayed that I slept the entire time, and didn't listen to any music at all.
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A couple from Benno Moiseiwitsch follow, starting with his 1941 recording with the Halle Orchestra directed by Leslie Heward. The timps sound taut, and Moiseiwitsch's entrance has plenty of fire. The magic, though, happens in his return, where his effortless playing finds him delivering glorious sound and ample dexterity, though some fudges occur. The slow movement offers elegant, beautiful playing, and in the finale Moiseiwitsch alternates between fire and elegance. The orchestral playing is nice enough, if perhaps a tad scrappy in places, and the recorded sound and balances are not optimal, marring a still fine recording.
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Moiseiwitsch's second recording with Otto Ackermann and the Philharmonia from about a decade later is in better sound, with better orchestral playing. Moiseiwitsch's tone becomes brittle in louder passages, though in softer passages he still sounds elegant. Alas, in some of the more virtuosic passages, like in the first movement cadenza, there are more imperfections than in the earlier recording. Due to improved recorded sound, the Adagio comes off very well, with Moiseiwitsch's tone in the quietest playing sounding very lovely, indeed. The third movement, with a distracting edit quite obviously blending different recording sessions, fares best in the slower music, with the faster and louder passages sounding at times brittle and rushed, but still exciting. While there are some nice things here, it's not a favorite.
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Second tier names Pascal Devoyon and Jerzy Maksymiuk with the London Philharmonic come next. The opening timps are brisk and punchy, and Devoyon's entry has oomph and rubato to satisfy, but then as all assembled move forward in a 13'41" opening movement, long stretches of luxuriance appear. Devoyon pays attention to the smallest details, delivering fantastic little accents and perfectly weighted arpeggios. Maksymiuk, aided by a goodly number of microphones, brings attention to orchestral detail, with so many little nice touches and such lovely string playing that one's ears flit from this to that. The fully modern recording offers fine dynamic contrasts and balances the piano almost perfectly, sometimes pushing it to the background, but mostly bringing it to the foreground. Devoyon brings elegance and refinement throughout, and expertly plays with tempi. His lead-in to the cadenza is slow and sparse, followed by a flash of notes, more slow playing, stretching the line, then bravura virtuosity mixed with pedal aided haze. Mmm hmm. Things get even better in the slow movement. Maksymiuk plays with luxuriance bordering on the Wagnerian, or at least Szymanowskian. Devoyon's playing is slow and purposeful, with all manner of dynamic gradations in the pp to mp range, with some hefty low register weight thrown in when needed. Devoyon foregoes a barnstorming open to the finale, instead letting the music sort of unfold. He amps things up a bit, but he never really just goes for gusto when musical ends can be achieved.
This recording bewitched me the first time I heard it years ago, and its spell remains unbroken. I think I know why Steven Isserlis has made multiple recordings with Devoyon. And Jerzy Maksymiuk, though he appears rarely in my collection – some Szymanowski, Haydn, and Mozart along with this disc – delivers here as in those recordings.
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Julius Katchen and Istvan Kertesz with the Israel Philharmonic. The left to right channel timp roll intro hints at an exciting version, and Katchen's intro does as well. The orchestral playing displays fairly virtuosic style, and then Katchen's return is all about super-speedy virtuoso playing of the basically empty variety, though when he starts to play slower music he brings more beauty to the mix. Mostly though, the opening movement is about playing to the gallery. The Adagio, with old-fashioned Decca multimiking and spotlighting, has some vibrato heavy strings adding some romance, and Katchen turns his supervirtuosity to delivering some lovely playing, though it sounds entirely empty. The finale follows the same approach, but in the cadenza, Katchen goes to the edge of his technique, nearly setting the keyboard ablaze. There's much excitement, but little musical satisfaction.
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Sviatoslav Richter with Lovro von Matačić and the Monte Carlo band. Nice timps lead to Richter starting off big and bold and moving into sweeping, grand playing. Whenever and wherever Richter is called on to play slowly or with tenderness, he of course does. He brings proceedings to a dead stop at the outset of the cadenza, dashes off the virtuosic passages with panache and nicely differentiated dynamics, playing at different levels for left and right hand in some places. He brings musicianship to his virtuosity. Matačić and crew nearly keep up. The Adagio sounds subdued and elevated, with Richter bringing some of his later Schubert sublimity to the playing, though it never sounds ravishingly beautiful. The finale has mucho energy and pep, some really clear bassoon playing, and generally works nicely enough. It's all very well done, but at times it seems that Richter is playing beyond the band. Had he had as sympathetic a partner as Devoyon, this would be even better. The at times bright, harsh sound and pedal stomping are there but not deleterious.
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Alice Sara Ott with Esa-Pekka Salonen in Bavaria. Nice timps and broad, flowing playing from Ott start things off. The first movement is on the laid-back side tempo wise, and Ott flits effortless back and forth between potent forte bravura playing and more beautiful playing. Everything seems to just glide along so well. Salonen gets the playing he wants, but the orchestral sound is sort of a modern dynamic range blob, lacking the clarity Matačić or Maksymiuk get. It's an engineering thing. The Adagio is very much Ott-centered, and her playing sounds unfailingly beautiful. Like Katchen, it does not sound deep; it's all surface playing. The same holds true in the finale, which Ott takes at a pleasant tempo, one sufficient to generate heat, but one also able to let her play beautifully, especially in the slow section. In some ways, this is something of a contemporary Katchen take, one where technique dominates, but Ott's playing sounds more fluid and more beautiful, and it is therefore better overall. Plus, the recording includes some gobsmackingly great solo Grieg.
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Van Cliburn with Eugene Ormandy and the Phillies. Potent timps, and a grand, sweeping opening from Cliburn gives way to a broad opening movement where Cliburn displays his proclivity to play with tonal beauty and slow luxuriance. He can and does turn it on when he needs to, but he was just never an outright hypervirtuoso. Ormandy and his band sound much better in stereo here than for Rubinstein, adding some heft and richness and weight. The cadenza starts slow and insofar as the dodgy sounding piano allows, Cliburn relishes the little details, dispatched with Ottian effortlessness. The Philly strings sound absolutely fantastic in the Adagio, and Cliburn does his thing, playing with at times nearly stupid beauty. The finale is a bit broadly paced, but it is bold and rich, with Cliburn doing his thing, at times swelling in forte playing to nearly match the band, and Ormandy brings the grandeur. Rock solid.
I'm assuming the correct image is one of these two
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True to its record of totally accurate item listings, Amazon categorizes the first one as a "paperback".
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The great Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli with the great Alceo Galliera in La Scala. Tight timps, thundering piano, a lovely orchestral reprise, then the young ABM displays his pianistic chops as much as the aged recording allows. Precise tempo and dynamic control, lovely tone, and ridiculously, perfectly manicured playing already displaying the prepared to the Nth degree style he took even further later in his career. Like with Cliburn, the broad opening movement tempo allows the pianist to indulge in luxuriant control, though ABM goes further. The decent mono sound does not allow the full beauty and luster of the La Scala band to emerge, and it is not as tight as Philly, but Galliera, one of the great accompanists, supports his soloist just so, and he displays perfect timing thanks to that theater background. The Adagio comes in at over seven minutes, and ABM offers a masterclass in slow, tender, beautiful, embalmed playing. That seems negative, but it's not. This is idealized Grieg playing. The finale has oomph and pep where appropriate, but it is in the dreamy slow section where ABM again shines.
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ABM partnered with Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos and the New Philharmonia. I've not listened to this recording in perhaps a half-decade, and probably more. The opening electrifies. ABM tears it up, blasting forward with speed and near ferocity, married to accuracy and resolutely attractive playing. It just smokes. Burgos keeps up, getting the band to do what needs to be done. ABM does slow down here and there, and does so expertly, but here it's all about of-the-moment intensity. The playing and performance are blue hot. The Adagio shaves a minute off the earlier version, and one can hear the increased tension from the first notes in the orchestra. When ABM plays starting at just after a couple minutes in, he goes for beauty, but he does not take his foot off the gas. The movement presses forward with unstoppable momentum and keyboard roars in the loudest passages. The finale accelerates and intensifies things further. Michelangeli was on fire in the concert, and he just unloads passage after passage. The pianistic display awes – no one plays better. It has been years since I listened, and the sheer energy just bulldozes everything. When the flute announces the arrival of the slow section, it comes just in time for the listener to catch one's breath. ABM does not go slow, per se, but he slows way down, and the way he front loads some phrases makes one jealous of all those who got to hear him in person. This performance thrills and beguiles. It's what Katchen and Kertesz tried to do. One of the great Grieg PC recordings from one of the greatest BBC Legends discs. Amazing.
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From a lion of the past to a lion of the present, Joseph Moog with frequent collaborator Nicholas Milton and a long named German band. Moog in person is the most poised pianist I've seen – he made Hamelin seem discombobulated, and the Canadian was cool as a cucumber. Moog can play anything. Here, the open is conventional tight timps followed by large scale playing by Moog, before settling into a somewhat laid-back take on the opening movement. (Coming after the '65 ABM is sure to result in such an impression.) Moog holds back, playing fast, slow, lovely, quiet, loud, whatever, and a sense of restraint and propriety permeates the take. When he plays with unabashed speed at just after six minutes, he rivals ABM and may sound more effortless than Ott. He starts the cadenza slowly then glitters his way through some passages. The slightly broad Adagio allows the band to play with lovely string tone, and it finds Moog delivering beautiful and clear playing. No need to unduly thicken the music here. The finale demonstrates high octane, if Apollonian playing from the soloist, and fine, clean support from the band. There's much to enjoy here, but it's not a top tier take. Moog is young now, and was even younger when this was recorded and, unfortunately, nominated for a Grammy. Perhaps he can revisit and up his formidable game.
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Stephen Kovacevich partnered with Colin Davis and the BBC Symphony Orchestra, played at impolite volume. So, here's a recording that's both fun to listen to, but something of a miss. There's certainly no complaining about the quality of playing as playing, from either soloist or band. But the interpretation has always left me cold. Kovacevich does best in the virtuosic passages. In the Adagio, he plays with precious little subtlety or beauty, instead he hammers out a lot of the music with edgy sforzandi. A few passages sound gentle, but not many. The final movement marries bravura and harder than it should be soft playing in an energetic movement. This is a good performance to put on, crank up, and do some type of physical activity – exercise, say, or housecleaning.
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Leon Fleisher and George Szell in Cleveland, of all places. Crisp, tight timps to open, with a high voltage announcement by Fleisher, gives way to a broad overall tempo first movement of great flexibility, and very Apollonian sensibilities. While Fleisher hammers out some music, and Szell follows his lead, it's tightly conceived, with little in the way of gooey rubato or gooey anything. It's no-nonsense music-making. The broad Adagio sounds faster than its timing, no little thanks going to the virtuosic Clevelanders in one of the more satisfyingly executed openings to the movement. Fleisher plays with no little calmness and beauty, even if his trills tend to just sound quick and nothing else. The finale succeeds more in the faster sections than the nice slow section. While this recording is entirely demeritless from an execution standpoint, it does not match up to other recordings. Part of that is a blind spot I have for Fleisher's pianism; for some reason, it just never really clicks with me.
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Russell Sherman with Joseph Silverstein and the Utah Symphony. One is always guaranteed interventionist playing by Mr Sherman, and some may love it, others may hate it. Me? Well. The first movement comes in at a hair over fourteen minutes, placing it on the slow side. That is not obvious with the timps and the sweeping and grand as all get out entrance of Sherman, nor with the orchestral playing that follows. Come Sherman's return it becomes more obvious, as do the mannerisms. Excess rubato, heavy and thick chords, distended arpeggios, some jackhammer sforzandi here and there for no reason, and wide dynamic range applied seemingly willy-nilly: check, check, check, check, and check. Sherman plays very slowly sometimes, for short passages, as does the band, and Sherman more than most other pianists is more than willing to fade into the background briefly and sound like he's playing an obbligato part. A silent start to the cadenza turns into some passing glittering playing followed by slow playing before building into a quasi-Lisztian torrent of notes, and the movement ends on a romantic note, as it were. The Adagio, coming in at a slow 7'18", starts with the orchestra does some lovely things, but this is the Sherman show. He plays some of the music so slowly, emphasizing each note and letting them just hang there at times, that it is truly a miracle that he does not break the musical line. But when single notes end up sounding monumental, it doesn't matter. The playing doesn't really carry much in the way of musical weight, a sense of searching, and so forth, it just sort of hypnotizes. The finale opens with Sherman playing more slowly than any other pianist, and then after the orchestral tutti his playing speeds up, but more than that he makes every note distinct and audible. The effect illuminates the score but does not initially seem to make sense, until it does. He then proceeds to some more quasi-Lisztian and at times downright heavy and thick playing, complete with audible vocalizing. (Vocalizing pops up in multiple places.) The slow playing reprises the feel of the Adagio, and then the return to fast playing again starts slower than normal, and Sherman adds dynamic shifts, seemingly mid-chord, for no other reason than to just do so. He also plays some of the music as some type of faux-waltz or overly dramatic dance – and it works. Sherman and crew then bring the work to a satisfying, romantic close, displaying the unique approach on display heretofore. So, I love it, as I basically love all of Sherman's recordings. It's an acquired taste. Mr Silverstein and the band do good work.
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Geza Anda and Rafael Kubelik in Berlin. Proper timp open, strong open by Anda, and then things move on to good, proper old school music making. Things are neither rushed nor slow, dynamics are wide but not outsized, Anda plays incredibly well, but not in a hypervirtuosic manner. He lets the playing breathe and brings nice clarity. The cadenza follows a similar music first, virtuosity second approach. Given the opener, it's no surprise at all that the Adagio sounds beautiful. Anda lavishes attention and often downright gentleness, with Kubelik offering support of his smoothest, most flowing type. The finale starts off slower than normal, with Anda opting to focus on clarity, and then Kubelik transitions to the slow section beautifully, Anda does his thing, and then they up the ante a bit to the coda.
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Anda again, this time with Fluffy. With a nearly identical timing for the opening movement, the overall impression is similar, though Anda's playing sounds brighter and a little less secure when he dashes off passages. The playing sounds comparatively unsteady. Karajan's accompaniment sounds beautiful and more firmly shaped than Kubelik's, which translates into less musical flow but more luscious orchestral sound. The slow movement amplifies this impression, though here, in places, Anda may sound even more beautiful. The finale again demonstrates the same overall attributes. Overall, the pairing with Kubelik satisfies more.
Todd, bad eyes...its the same recording ! brahms 2 with karajan and....grieg with Kubelik !
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Olli Mustonen and Herbert Blomstedt in San Fran. A fine timp opening, and a big, sweeping open from Mustonen gives way to a slow overall opener. Mustonen shows himself to be even more brazenly interventionist than Sherman, playing some of the music in such a distended, bloated, slow way that one can imagine Tzimon Barto nodding along while listening. Really, it's just too much. Which means it's just about enough. The first proper slow piano passage sounds lovely, but throughout, where other pianists may be apt to deploy legato, Mustonen is happy enough to play with incisive staccato just because. Like Sherman, not a bar goes by without some little intervention, and quite often they are big interventions. I mean, you listen, and then, blam, one chord gets belted out for no good reason, and phrases end up emphasizing the start because why not. The way he splashes out notes in the cadenza, only to follow up with a run so cleanly articulated one wouldn't be surprised if it were studio trickery, and then builds to a Brahms meets Liszt meets, well, Grieg climax works just dandy. The slow movement opens with some gorgeous playing from the band, with Blomstedt bringing the magic with near-Wagnerian strings and brass. Mustonen maintains his penchant to tinker, though now he also displays dynamic control at the pp-p range to rival just about anyone in anything, save Volodos. The playing sounds beautiful, but it's not even the beauty that the listener listens to; no, the listener listens to hear what Mustonen's gonna do next. The fairly slow final movement sees more of what Mustonen did in the opener, playing far more slowly than normal in some passages just because he can, and then zipping through some passages cleanly, and others where seemingly every note is tweaked just because he can. Straight-forward passages are very much the exception. Underlying all this is rock steady, beautiful, and powerful support from Blomstedt, very much playing the straight man. Ultimately, this recording falls just short of Sherman's because Sherman sounds nutso idiosyncratic but spontaneous while Mustonen sounds nutso idiosyncratic but studied. Make no mistake, this is a corker, in high end Decca sound. Listening, one can't help but ponder a crucial question: when will UMG release a Mustonen complete edition?
Quote from: rachmaninoff on February 02, 2023, 04:16:09 AMTodd, bad eyes...its the same recording ! brahms 2 with karajan and....grieg with Kubelik !
You are correct. The recording I streamed was definitely different (different timings) so I will see if I can find out what it was. I put this together in December, and my streaming history doesn't go back that far. Since I was looking to put together a Top 40 list, I will have to listen to a new recording.
Hello Todd ! Perhaps I was too direct with you with my comment ! I apologise for this. I'm the persoon (Belgium...who silly.30 years ago..sold my LP box Valois with the 32 sonatas with Riefling..)
Quote from: rachmaninoff on February 02, 2023, 05:10:04 AMHello Todd ! Perhaps I was too direct with you with my comment ! I apologise for this. I'm the persoon (Belgium...who silly.30 years ago..sold my LP box Valois with the 32 sonatas with Riefling..)
When you're right, you're right.
I feel for you on the Riefling set. I've thought about buying a used LP set since I've seen at least two pop up, but so far I haven't gone for it. Hopefully whoever owns the recordings will sense my desperation and reissue in digital format.
I discovered Grieg with Anda Kubelik; (loan LP ); then, I wanted to purchase the grieg concerto. The only in the store was Solomon/Menges. Always one of my favorite !
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I had to include a Wilhelm Backhaus recording. No, not his abridged 1910 version with a snare drum intro, but this later shellac version with John Barbirolli and The New Symphony Orchestra. A proper, crisp open and a propulsive start from Backhaus hands off back to Barbirolli, who gets lovely, taut playing, but it is when Backhaus returns that one hears what the middle-aged pianist could do closer to his technical prime, as he scampers along the keyboard in the fast music and coaxes beauty in the slower, but never really slow playing. He dashes off the cadenza with real brio. Backhaus keeps things extra zippy in the Adagio, yet maintains beauty, and really, his trills are some of the very best yet recorded, whether on shellac, tape, or hard drive. Completely in line with the performance to this point, the finale is high octane, fast, and all about excitement. This recording does offer a prime instance of just what Backhaus could do technically way back when, even though his best musical efforts were to come. Still, I make it a point to listen to his pre-war recordings from time to time. A titan he was.
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Nikolai Tokarev with Olari Elts and the Lucerne Symphony Orchestra. A swift timp crescendo promptly morphs into Tokarev's big entry, which switches back to clean, clear orchestral playing. Then Tokarev digs in, and he effortlessly flows back and forth between bold, rich playing and swift, colorful, and effortless playing where dynamics are finely graded at all levels, accents whiz by, with endless, minor touches everywhere. His hushed arpeggios invite the listener to pay the utmost attention. The movement comes in at just over twelve minutes, but it never sounds rushed. Indeed, Tokarev manages to make fast playing sound leisurely, and the slower passages sound hauntingly beautiful and perfectly poised even when they are quick. Some sharp upper register playing serves to add color to the proceedings. Tokarev starts the cadenza off slow, zips through the faster playing, then unleashes in the massive climax, creating a quasi-orchestral vibe. The Adagio starts with lean, taut orchestral playing, then Tokarev enters with gorgeous, gentle playing that, when it speeds up, accelerates at just the perfect rate, and to the perfect dynamic level. Some other pianists emphasize each note, but Tokarev does not, instead creating proper relationships between notes, resulting in perfect phrasing and a cumulatively moving experience, though moving in an aesthetic rather than emotional way. And in those trills, he one-ups Backhaus by dispatching some with almost inhuman evenness at a soft piano level. Yep, yep, yep. The finale starts off with ample oomph and drive, and then accelerates, with the band playing extremely fast, and then Tokarev playing at least as fast as anyone else but making it sound stupid easy. The slow section boasts both gorgeous pianism and at least as gorgeous orchestral playing, and a big old pregnant pause before the final notes of the section. From that point its all energy and dynamic contrasts and drive right through to the end, with Tokarev basically matching the very greatest virtuosos in this survey. And all this in a live recording. (Hey, ABM was on fire, too.) Elts and his band play everything in perfect sympathy with the soloist, never sounding anything other than perfectly polished, yet never detracting from the soloist. One of the best.
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Time for another titan, this time Claudio Arrau paired with Christoph von Dohnanyi with the Concertgebouw. A long, gradual timp build up transitions to a grander than grand entrance by Arrau, before transitioning to an extremely long, slow, broad opening at 14'33". Arrau does dash off some passages quite quickly, and with no little drama, but mostly he plays slow, with no little drama. Of course, his tone sounds fulsome and rich, and Dohnanyi's slow 'n' gooey accompaniment fits perfectly with the soloist's conception. The cadenza offers a solo encapsulation of the movement. To be sure, there are some absolutely wonderful passages sprinkled throughout, but they are interspersed with passages that work notably less well. Not at all surprisingly, Arrau's broad approach works best in the over seven-minute Adagio, with big, rich, beautiful playing to relish. The final displays the same sound and hits and misses of the opening movement. Overall, an at times glorious, at times not take.
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The great Jean-Yves Thibaudet and Valery Gergiev in Rotterdam. A quick timp buildup segues to at times bright, at times weighty playing by Thibaudet, and then Gergiev gets some good playing with pronounced and exact vibrato. Thibaudet's return is held under wraps, and is almost the whole movement, which sounds somewhat restrained, a sense made worse by the slightly opaque sound. Sure, Thibaudet dispatches some virtuosic passages with the best of them, but these are fleeting moments. Even the cadenza, dispatched with seeming ease, sounds somewhat low energy in spots. In the Adagio, Thibaudet shows that he can play as beautifully as anyone, and the movement fares nicely. It's only in the opening of the finale, though, that things click, with soloist and band bopping along nicely, and then Thibaudet plays the slow section beautifully. Alas, the coda sounds kludgy . Overall, the performance doesn't really work for me. Not one of Thibaudet's best recordings.
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Ivan Moravec with Miklos Erdelyi and the Prague Symphony Orchestra. Quick open, with Moravec bringing the drama, and then in the orchestral return, the Prague winds play with a unique timbre unlike any other version. (Those oboes!) The somewhat spacious sound lets Moravec's playing wax and wane dynamically, and he masterfully alternates tempi, creating a beautiful, fluid feel. He delivers in both the bravura and slow playing and punches out a clean if not note perfect cadenza that has both high energy and haunting beauty. Moravec nails the Adagio, with perfect pacing and dynamic gradation and beauty and affect, and the band matches him. The finale boasts a gorgeous slow section, and the fast sections sound energetic and bubbly, not too serious or heavy. It's fun. Good stuff. Sound quality of this live recording is not tip-top, but it's more than good enough, and the same can be said for the conductor and orchestra. A superb recording.
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Dinu Lipatti and Alceo Galliera with the Philharmonia. A blurred timp opening gives way to Lipatti going for the grand, sweeping intro. Galliera once again demonstrates A-list support, perfectly marrying support to the soloist stylistically and getting extremely fine playing from the band. Lipatti mostly plays with energy and bite, and some satisfying weight, even given the age of the recording. He also plays with no little nuance in the slower passages and delivers a more musical than empty virtuosic cadenza. The Adagio finds Lipatti playing poetically, affecting and it works very well indeed. It was his recording that first established how I prefer this movement to sound, and it still works. The finale has ample pep and drive where needed, and more fine playing the slow section. I've not listened to this recording in maybe a decade. It's a bit better than I recalled, even if it does not end up a top choice.
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Eva Knardahl with Kjell Ingebretsen and the Royal Philharmonic. It's a BIS original dynamics recording! The slow first movement starts with crisp timps and broad, large-scaled playing from Knardahl. Knardahl doesn't even bother trying to play in an especially virtuosic manner, instead preferring to play more slowly and let the music breathe. That's not to say she's not up to snuff, because the cadenza, for instance, is quite good, but this is not a barn-storming version, very much on purpose. Her use of a Bösendorfer brings brighter upper registers and weightier lower registers, which blends very well with her style. The Adagio starts with lovely orchestral playing with especially attractive string playing. Knardhal shines, coaxing beautiful playing out of her instrument and taking her sweet time doing it, and she happily takes on an almost obbligato approach in some passages. This is about musical flow and beauty, not super-heated intensity, and those bright upper register trills sound just nifty. The finale is a bit slow, though here Knardhal plays some passages at a nice velocity, though with reduced volume. There's a comparatively relaxed feel to the whole thing, with only the hardest hitting tuttis sounding intense. This is how to do a slow take on the concerto. Not one of the greats, but excellent for what it is.
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Stewart Goodyear with Stanislav Bogunia and the Czech National Symphony. Because sometimes you want to listen to a pianist with unlimited technical prowess play. Bogunia starts things off with conventional if hard hitting timps, and Goodyear enters in grand, fast fashion. He dispatches some bars with ease and force and control and musical substance that sort of sounds like what Katchen was going for. He's not afraid to lay off, play beautifully, and fade into obbligato playing much like Knardahl. But really, with this pianist, one listens for the virtuoso elements, and he does not disappoint. That written, Goodyear sees no reason to go full virtuoso, even in the cadenza, when more nuance can help in passages. But then he can and does deliver in a perfectly controlled coda. Goodyear goes for a slow Adagio, and he manages to play quite beautifully, sometimes slowly, sometimes in a manner that sounds slower than it is, and always using those magic fingers to make the music sing. The finale bops along with energy and rhythmic elan, with Goodyear chewing up and spitting out the hard stuff, and adding some rubato here and there, just because. He delivers lovely playing in the slow section, too. And the build up to and then the coda are high voltage. An extremely fine, unabashedly virtuoso take on the concerto.
I really like this concerto by Grieg, I even place it in a "top 10" of my favorite piano concertos.
But do you know that Grieg was considering a second concerto, in B minor? In 1882 and 1883 he worked on this second concerto, but it was never completed. Sketches for the concerto were recorded by pianist Einar Steen-Nøkleberg.
In 1997, the Oslo Grieg Society organized its third international competition for composers on the theme: to "re-imagine" Grieg's second concerto. One of the candidates, the Belgian composer Laurent Beeckmans, drew up a complete piano concerto from the sketches, which was first performed in London on May 3, 2003.
Another elaboration on Grieg's sketches was completed by Norwegian composer Helge Evju and was recorded by the Naxos label.
The few sketches by Grieg, then at 3'15, the "finished" version by Helge Evju.
In my opinion, apart from certain passages, I find it difficult to recognize Grieg 8)
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The Z Man and Fluffy. There's never any possible doubt about execution and sound. The strings dominate whenever the orchestra plays, overpowering winds, and Zimerman plays with control and exactitude that might intimidate even Michelangeli. But man, is the opening movement slow and almost syrupy. Zimerman uses his Zimerman-level technique to deliver slow, gorgeous playing, with the unassailable beauty of each note seemingly and end in itself. No one could possibly fault his precise dynamic control, either. As an example of pianistic perfection, it operates at the highest level. Of course the Adagio has gorgeous string playing, gorgeous orchestral playing generally, and obviously Zimerman plays the slow music at the limits of human abilities to generate pianistic beauty. And then the standard he sets is surpassed in the finale, which on either side of the slow section is filled with grand, virtuosic playing in the grand manner. I've never been particularly fond of this recording, even though its technical merits are never in doubt, and despite the fact that Zimerman is one of my favorite pianists. But there you go.
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In every survey, there has to be a worst recording, and this is it. Alexey Zuev's recording on a mid-19th Century keyboard and backed by Kenneth Montgomery leading the Orchestra of the 18th Century falls flat. First, the keyboard sucks. It lacks the sustain and color and ability to generate satisfying forte and fortissimo playing this work demands. Also, it ain't so hot down low. The orchestra sounds anemic, with the clarity amplifying that. Making matters worse is the slow overall tempo of the opening movement, which seems several minutes longer than it actually is. Fortunately, the Adagio is not quite as unpleasant, but it nonetheless doesn't work. The finale mashes up the first two movement in not working at all and not working. Rather as with Ms Ott, the solo Grieg selections work better, though Zuev in no way matches Ott.
Agreed with that one. Since the Chopin Institute is so hard to find, I ordered a physical copy, and was immediately disappointed on listening. All the instruments of HIP, without a shred of the actual style or practice. Dull dull dull.
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Back to a hypervirtuoso, this time György Cziffra paired with Andre Vandernoot and the Philharmonia. Like Zimerman, Cziffra favors a very broad overall tempo for the first movement. Some other things are the same. Some things different. First, after the just fine timp, Cziffra delivers sweeping, grand playing, and he can and does blast out the virtuosic passages with ease. He also delivers some the quieter passages with some real nuance and gentleness, and his dynamic gradations and clarity in the pp-p really sounds fantastic. So far, this is all very similar to Zimerman. Thing is, the playing sounds freer and less contrived, more flowing, which does not align with Cziffra's more common, flamboyant playing. His take on the cadenza is almost the archetype of the super-virtuoso approach. He dashes off some of the playing at dizzying speed, plays the quite music beautifully, uses long pauses for dramatic effect, thunders out the loudest music for even more drama, and plays with so much tonal and dynamic variability, and with such freedom, that other takes, even exceptionally well-done ones, sound staid and bland. In a slow Adagio, Cziffra ups the ante in terms of delivering delicate, nuanced, gorgeous playing. He's not all gentle playing, spicing things up where needed, but he's far removed from the over-the-top stylings he brings to other composers. It's all terribly un-Cziffra-like. This gets reinforced when the seven plus minutes ends long before the listener wants it to. The finale sees Cziffra dispatching virtuoso passages with ease, playing beautifully, and bringing his A-game in an energetic, flowing manner. Hot stuff.
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Cziffra again, with his son leading the Budapest Symphony Orchestra. Similar in overall conception, this recording ends up sounding more superficial, and more overtly virtuosic for the sake of virtuosity. This applies to the piano playing and the orchestral playing. To be sure, Cziffra again demonstrates his ability to play beautifully, especially in the very long Adagio, but the whole thing is too sleek for its own good. It's certainly not bad, and there are multiple moments that work exceedingly well, and the differences are small between his two versions are small, but cumulatively they result in a notably less satisfying take.
I'm still waiting for my favourite recording to be reviewed though I must revisit the Cziffra/Vandernoort
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Janne Mertanen and Hannu Koivula and the Gavle Symphony Orchestra. A big open by the band and soloist transitions to a well executed first movement, just slightly on the broad side, that mostly sounds beautiful, some upper register piano notes aside. It's all perfectly fine and basically unmemorable. The same applies to the not even fleetingly engaging cadenza. The slow Adagio sounds attractive in an anodyne way. The finale blends the first two movements in a perfectly forgettable way. I remember when this recording was hot stuff and some pianophiles praised Mertanen to the heavens, with this recording the main example. Try as I might, it has just never clicked with me. His Chopin concertos, on the other hand . . .
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Murray Perahia and Colin Davis with the BRSO. Perahia at first glance would seem to be a pianist well suited to deliver one of the great recordings of the Grieg concerto. Not a barn-storming virtuoso, but rather a pianist displaying both virtuosity and taste, he should be able to bring to bear all his formidable talents to this piece. He does, kind of. Davis can and does deliver some muscular support, and Perahia can and does deliver a muscular opening, and he delivers some fine playing in the more extroverted passages, but in the slower and quieter passages, while no slouch, he just doesn't deliver magic or anything especially distinct or memorable. Now, in the Adagio, Perahia brings his A-game, starting off nearly inaudibly, gradually building up, then tapering off wonderfully. He moves back and forth wonderfully throughout, and really does good work. The finale has ample energy, but some of the more bravura passages seems somewhat undernourished, too limited dynamically, though they do flow nicely. The whole thing does. This is not in any way a bad recording, it's just not top shelf.
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Walter Gieseking and Wilhelm Furtwangler, presumably in Berlin, from a few lifetimes ago. It has been so long since I listened to this recording – at least twenty years – that it is the equivalent of new to me. The opening movement comes in at under eleven minutes, indicating some cuts, and of course some super-zippy playing from Gieseking in his live performance freewheeling manner. Jumping around the keyboard without a care in the world, he dispatches runs and big blobs of passages in an insouciant manner bordering on the reckless. But then, that's the way it should be. There are certainly moments of excitement, and the orchestral tempo taffy pulling sounds good, especially in the context of a concert. The Adagio comes in at a taut 5'34", and Gieseking offers a masterclass in how to play slow music swiftly and beautifully. The finale has some nice playing in the slow section, lots of energy and excitement, some patches of sloppiness by Gieseking, and works in the context of the performance. There's no doubt that this would have been a fine performance to attend, but I'm not sure it needed to be recorded for posterity.
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Yukio Yokoyama and Neeme Järvi and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra. A proper timp open segues to quick, light, crisp, purely Apollonian playing by Yokoyama. What he may lack in romantic gestures and nuanced tinkering, he makes up for in precisely graded dynamics, springy as all get out rhythmic elan, and clarity. It sounds vibrant and spontaneous. It very much sounds like his early LvB concertos in its vitality and refusal to be weighed down. Now, when he needs to rip, he does, and his cadenza has hypervirtuosity to match anyone's. In the slow movement, he brings more tonal variegation, though clarity remains more prominent. And as his Emperor demonstrates, Yokoyama delivers trills as well as anyone on disc. The final movement is all vim and vigor to start, with Yokoyama seeming to (rightly) please the live audience. He hammers music out when needed, and he delivers an attractive slow section before launching into a full throttle close. Järvi and band keep up, bring out details nicely, and generally sound just swell. There's much to enjoy here, though it's ultimately not a top tier recording. Like with Ott, some fine solo Grieg is included in the package, though Yokoyama sounds relatively better in the concerto.
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Starting in on the home stretch, with nothing but heavy hitters from this point. Herbert Schuch with Eivind Aadland and the WDR Symphony Orchestra Cologne come next. A slow to start timp roll segues to Schuch, who plays with grand style, but also interventionism of the highest order. He deploys rubato effectively, and even the way he ends chords, ending some notes while sustaining other for a split second longer, enthralls. He then basically doesn't leave anything alone. He's almost like Sherman or Mustonen, but his level of refinement sounds superior. His first take on slow music is arguably the most beautiful of any pianist's, and the minute dynamic gradations, the perfect tonal control, the flawless clarity, all combine to make this a pianistic feast. The SOTA sound helps, and this is reinforced by the almost glowing sound of the orchestra, with wind playing and sound second to none. When Schuch has to deliver a big crescendo, he really delivers. He starts off the cadenza with an almost Brahmsian sound, switches to dazzling playing, switches to slow, at times distended playing heavy on poetry and punctuated by one fabulous left-hand note, before starting a slow, gradual build up to a thundering climax, before tapering off, all the way to pianissimo playing that Volodos would approve of. The slow Adagio starts with almost ridiculously beautiful string playing to rival any, and Schuch's touch awes. Again, he will hold this or that note or chord for an extended period. Like Pogorelich in some of his DG recordings, Schuch does things just because he can, but they always work, and they're not quite so extreme as the Croat's interventions. The finale starts with energy and drive and virtuosic display, and then in the slow section, Schuch starts off with playing that could fairly be described as folk song like, and then he moves into outright pianistic poetry. He then plays some chunks of the faster music in an almost dancelike manner, but he also displays his virtuoso bona fides right through to the glorious end. I'm a huge Schuch fan. I even appreciate his penchant for ugly Christmas sweaters. Of course his take on the Grieg concerto is a favorite. One of the best of the best.
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Radu Lupu and Andre Previn with the LSO. A full force opening from band and soloist gives way to playing where Lupu displays all the virtuosity of Schuch, but without the idiosyncrasies, though at the expense of ultimate beauty. Lupu's tempo choices, just a bit broad overall, feel just right and the piece moves forward at a just right pace. When Lupu needs to play gently, he does, and when he needs to unload, oh boy can he. Previn accompanies as well as anyone, staying perfectly in tune with Lupu. The cadenza is direct, mixing unaffected virtuosity and measured beauty just so. The Adagio sounds glorious, with Previn getting weighty, beautiful playing, and Lupu playing gorgeously, and more or less as straightforward as possible, and it works. It's like an aural palette cleanser. The finale moves between fast and slow effortlessly, and Lupu again delivers a no-nonsense, no frills take that works fantastically well. One of the greats.
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A short while before deciding to work through a big slug of recordings, I relistened to the Freire/Kempe version, which acted as a spark for this undertaking. So now it's time to listen again. The outcome is foreordained. The piece blasts out of the gate, with both band and pianist starting in high energy mode and never backing off. The young Freire displays his masterful chops, zipping through the fast passages with silly good accuracy and articulation, and then delivering some nicely slowed and cooled slow playing. It reminds the listener of ABM's live recording to an extent, though it's not as hot; the studio allows for smoothing it out. The cadenza is a virtuoso feast. Freire goes for a quick, taut, high-tension Adagio, yet he never fails to play with immense beauty and rhythmic fluidity. The finale has a standard tempo and Freire and Kempe go for the bold approach, with lots of oomph and energy, and even with all the great pianists covered up to this point, it is fair to say that Freire matches anyone. Yeah, this is a youthful, virtuosic take on this concerto, and it works supremely well. Kempe and the band offer perfectly tailored support.
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Finally, it's time for Leif Ove Andsnes, starting with his first recording with Dimitri Kitaenko and the Bergen Philharmonic. A fairly slow opening movement starts off with ample energy and speed from band and soloist, with Andsnes' return flowing, not too slow, not too fast, before jumping into playing displaying musical virtuosity giving up not a whole lot of anything to anyone. Kitaenko makes sure the timps get more love in the movement, or at least the engineers did, and it sounds nice. Andsnes displays mastery as he moves between more relaxed and more virtuosic playing. The cadenza is less overtly virtuosic than many others, but Andsnes adds some nice, musical touches, especially as it ends. (There's also some audible pedal action.) The slow Adagio boasts some lovely string playing, especially the cellos, and Andsnes goes for a slow, lovely, and light approach. Swift, energetic, rhythmically vibrant, and comparatively light is the best way to describe the fleet opening of the finale, and the playing after the slow section. The slow section itself sounds beautiful but slight. Overall, an excellent version.
Listened to Freire/Kempe last night. This one is really larger than life...
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Now for the version with Jansons in Berlin. Appreciably quicker overall, the band and Leif start off with ample oomph, and then Andsnes returns with a more flexible, more nuanced take that sounds even smoother than before. He dispatches the more virtuosic playing quickly, but it sounds less flashy. While his does not display the touch of Schuch, it improves on the Virgin recording. Jansons has the BPO at his disposal, so whenever the orchestra pops in, it does top tier work. Andsnes' piano playing sounds less bright overall, more textured, more beautiful, and more relaxed in the sense that he never seems to stress or push the music harder than it should be pushed. The cadenza melds perfectly virtuosic fast playing, a dramatic climax, and occasionally cutting right hand playing in perfect proportion. The Adagio is also notably quicker than the first recording, and no doubt about it, the Berliners provide some of the very best support in the survey. Andsnes improves upon the earlier recording by playing more beautifully, delivering more perfectly realized accelerandos, and turning somewhat swift playing into music that fully conveys the appropriate affect more typically reserved for slower playing. He adds a bit more heat, a bit more drama, too. The finale finds Andsnes pulling out all the stops. It's fast. It's dramatic. It's passionate. It's virtuosic. And in the slow section, the delicate strings and winds introduce gorgeous, delicate, but not too slow or syrupy keyboard playing. Andsnes and Jansons then rip through the remainder of the movement just so. Everything about the movement, the work is basically perfect.
Andsnes in Berlin retains top spot, fending off intense challenges from Michelangeli from over a half century ago, and from Schuch from the last few years, as well as any number of other piano titans. The outcome does not surprise, but the journey was the whole point, and I got to revisit some recordings I've not heard in many moons. Now I think I need another new recording of the work.
After the most exhaustive, scientifically rigorous survey of Grieg's Piano Concerto that has ever been or ever could be conducted, the definitive and objective ranking of recordings can now be revealed:
Top Tier
Andsnes/Jansons
Michelangeli/Burgos
Schuch/Aadland
Lupu/Previn
Freire/Kempe
Devoyon/Maksymiuk
Sherman/Silverstein
Tokarev/Elts
Cziffra/Vandernoot
Mustonen/Blomstedt
Second Tier
Moravec/Erdelyi
Richter/Matačić
Michelangeli/Galliera
Andsnes/Kitaenko
Lipatti/Galliera
Rubinstein/Dorati
Goodyear/Bogunia
Cliburn/Ormandy
Anda/Kubelik
Rubinstein/Wallenstein ('56)
Third Tier
Moog/Milton
Yokoyama/Järvi
Knardahl/Ingebretsen
Moiseiwitsch/Heward
Backhaus/Barbirolli
Perahia/Davis
Fleisher/Szell
Kovacevich/Davis
Rubinstein/Ormandy
Ott/Salonen
Fourth Tier
Zimerman/Karajan
Cziffra/Cziffra
Gieseking/Furtwangler
Mertanen/Koivula
Rubinstein/Wallenstein ('61)
Moiseiwitsch/Ackermann
Arrau/Dohnanyi
Thibaudet/Gergiev
Katchen/Kertesz
Zuev/Montgomery
The Freire Kempe version is indeed stunning - so powerful.