Posts Categorized: The Piano Files

Stannard shared that “as a teacher, she was more a doer than a sayer. That is, her demonstrations were inspiring and thought-provoking, while her technical observations were more along the lines of “get after that.” She was a musician’s musician and everyone loved her. One of the first impressions I have of her was her standing on the landing of the grand staircase in Clark House cradling a large kettle and waving a ladle in the air. ‘Who wants some soup?'”

Sadly, Kerr died suddenly as the result of an asthma attack, at the tragically young age of 52. Stannard was the first pupil to find out: he had arrived early to the fall semester registration to be sure that he could sign up for lessons with Kerr, only to be told by a shaken administrator that she had died the night before.

Renowned pianist Kirill Gerstein became fascinated by the artist when he saw my Facebook posts and started doing his own online digging, in so doing coming across this 1953 WNYC interview with the pianist, in which she speaks about using music education to help disabled veterans – a wonderful testament to her dedication as a teacher:

There are many great pianists whose performing careers for a variety of reasons did not sustain the promise of their early years, and a good number of them became distinguished teachers whose influence on musical culture was still significant despite taking place behind closed doors. One such amazing pianist went from over 150 bookings a year in Europe before the war to an ever-dwindling number after having moved to Canada – in spite of rave reviews in major centres – yet her impact on the lives of countless students was profound. A distinguished and refined cultural icon, Lubka Kolessa taught generations of pianists who would go on to have notable careers in her adopted country and abroad.

Lubka Kolessa was born into a musical family on May 19, 1902 in Lviv, Ukraine. Her first piano lessons were with her grandmother, who had trained with Chopin’s pupil Karol Mikuli, and once the family moved to Vienna she would study with Liszt’s protege Emil von Sauer. She won the Bösendorfer Prize at age 13 and well after graduation with an already active concert schedule she continued training with another Liszt pupil, Eugen d’Albert.

‘A Wonder’

The conductors with whom she played in the 1920s and 30s reads like a Who’s Who of the legendary orchestral chiefs of the time: Furtwängler, Böhm, Keilberth, Strauss, Mengelberg, Walter, Wood, Weingartner, to name but a few. She apparently had to learn Liszt’s Second Concerto on 3 weeks’ notice when Furtwängler booked her when she was in her teens. She toured her native Ukraine in 1928 to great acclaim, and had several tours of North and South America that were equally successful (Rio de Janeiro’s A Noite stated that “the concerts of Lubka Kolessa were a great event in the world of art.”)

Kolessa made a British television appearance (wearing a traditional Ukrainian dress) on May 21, 1937 and that year played over 175 concerts, reviews brimming over with superlatives: “An artistic event of the first rank? No, more than that – a wonder!” That same year she would move to the UK as circumstances deteriorated on the continent. In Prague on March 13, 1939 – the eve of the occupation – she married James Edward Tracy Philipps, a British diplomat whom she had met on the Orient Express in 1936. Their son was born later in 1939, and with war having broken out in Europe, Philipps was assigned to Canada, the family arriving in Montreal in June 1940 (Philipps expressed strong displeasure at the Thomas Cook agency for having given them a second-class cabin).

Within the year Kolessa was booked to play with the Toronto Symphony, with the Globe and Mail review entitled “Kolessa’s Triumph” reporting that “No pianist of recent years roused more sincere and fervent expression of admiration,” adding that her performance “was a rendering that stirred every musical fibre in those who heard it.” She would teach at the Toronto Conservatory for 7 years starting in 1942, the beginning of a long teaching career in her adopted country (she appears to have parted ways with her husband by this time in what is said to have been a rancorous separation). In New York, she gave a Town Hall recital in April 1943, and in the following years she made a few appearances in which she shared the program (a 1944 appearance at the Ukrainian National Association Golden Jubilee Concert and two pops concerts in following years), but it was her January 27, 1948 recital at Carnegie Hall that generated particular attention. She played a massive program with a creative flow, Bach’s Toccata, Adagio and Fugue followed by Debussy’s Toccata, which led into Schumann’s Toccata and two works by Mozart; after intermission, a set of pieces by contemporary composer Arnold Walter was then followed by a group of Chopin Mazurkas that were bookended by the Fantasy and Andante Spianato and Polonaise. New York Times critic Harold Taubman was very impressed, calling her “a pianist of uncommon personality and charm…an artist with a heart and mind of her own,” and another headline read “Carnegie, where Kolessa belongs.” Thirteen months later she appeared with the New York Philharmonic to play Chopin’s E Minor Concerto and her recital the following year (April 3, 1950) was another massive programme: Schumann’s Etudes symphoniques, Mozart’s C Major Sonata, Liszt’s Funerailles, Paganini Etude No.4, and Hungarian Rhapsody No.12, two Scarlatti Sonatas, and Chopin’s B Minor Sonata.

Despite rave reviews, Kolessa’s career never reached the level it had in Europe and after a return visit to play and broadcast there in 1954, she withdrew from public performance to focus on teaching. She had by this point moved to Montreal (though she would also live in Toronto), where for the next two decades she taught at the Conservatoire de Musique du Québec, the École Vincent d’Indy, and at McGill University in Montreal. Among her pupils were the distinguished conductor and pianist Mario Bernardi (a mainstay on Canadian radio and concert platforms for decades), prize-winning pianist and teacher Louis-Philippe Pelletier, and renowned pianist-teachers Luba Zuk and Ireneus Zuk.

A supportive teacher

Kolessa appears to have been revered by her students, by whom she was referred to as ‘Madame Kolessa’ or ‘Madame K’. The esteemed Pelletier began studying with her when he was 15 and recalls that he was “very impressed, to say the least, by her personality, a mélange of calm authority and kindness. She accepted me in her class at The Montreal Conservatory and I gradually assimilated the basics of her wonderful technical approach. She was fluent in many languages (German, French, Italian, Spanish, Ukrainian) and very well-read. When I worked on the Dante Sonata, she urged me to go through the Divine Comédie, for instance. From time to time, at the end of a long day of teaching, she would invite me to play with her at one piano four-hands or two pianos the Mozart sonatas. She taught me the accentuation, articulation of phrases etc. This was for me a precious and unforgettable experience.” Pelletier adds that her repertoire covered a vast range: the complete Well-Tempered Clavier, all the Beethoven Sonatas (except for 106), the complete Mozart and Beethoven Concerti, and lots of Chopin, Brahms, Liszt, and Scarlatti.

An American pupil who in the 1970s traveled from New York to Toronto every two weeks to take lessons at Kolessa’s beautiful home in the affluent neighbourhood of Rosedale spoke glowingly about her encouraging approach to teaching and holistic music-making.  Whereas other teachers tended to emphasize technique before focusing on tonal quality, with Kolessa it was the reverse: first came the focus on the sound so that the physiological actions would adapt in order to produce the desired sonority. Her linguistic aptitude supported her approach to music and she taught that understanding a composer’s language could help one understand the inflection and other details of their musical idiom: Kolessa stressed that precise notation for composers was not easy and that if you knew the language you would know how what to emphasize, how to breathe, how to phrase. To this end, she would speak in Hungarian to demonstrate an idiomatic approach to Bartok, German for Brahms, and so on.

Kolessa taught well into her old age and died in 1997 at 95. A scholarship in her name was created by some former students at McGill and it was only in the last decade or so that a collection of her recordings was made available on the DoReMi label out of Toronto. While some of the transfers were lacking in the full-bodied sonority that grace some of the master discs, this was an important revival of this great artist to the catalogue, bringing the name of a once idolized artist back to the awareness of collectors and piano fans.

Kolessa On Record

Kolessa made only a handful of studio recordings, all before 1950: a series of Ultraphone discs between 1928 and 1936 (some of them unreleased); a few more for Electrola, the German branch of HMV, mostly short solos and a single piano concerto; and two LPs for the Concert Hall Society in 1949. All of these have been issued on a 3-disc set on the Doremi label, together with a 1936 German broadcast of Mozart’s D Minor Concerto, making up her complete issued recorded legacy, though more broadcasts from her 1954 tour to Germany are known to exist. Regrettably the filtering on some of the older recordings leads a lot to be desired, but the playing is truly astounding, as the fresher transfers of some of these performances below demonstrate.

Kolessa’s sole studio concerto recording – her account of Beethoven’s Third Concerto with Karl Böhm conducting the Sächsische Staatskapelle – may be her only 78rpm-era recording to have been issued on LP. That June 1, 1939 Electrola reading – presented here from an excellent transfer for which I did the side-joins myself – captures her vivacious spirit and refined pianism with great fidelity. The playing is very much like Kolessa herself: refined, distinguished, but with impressive strength and backbone. There is always a full-bodied quality to her sonority regardless of dynamic level, and her nuancing and phrasing are elegant and poetic without the slightest hint of sentimentality or showmanship.

Kolessa’s recording of the Hummel Rondo in E-Flat seems to have been made in 1939 (details are not 100%) and was the ‘filler’ side for the 78rpm set (the Beethoven Concerto took 9 record sides, so the fifth disc had space for another piece). This terrifically clear transfer captures the sparkle, rhythmic vitality, deft articulation, and transparency of Kolessa’s playing with tremendous clarity.

Chopin figured prominently in Kolessa’s recitals, and her 1939 Electrola recording of the composer’s first Waltz in this excellent transfer captures the full-bodied sonority and elegant refinement of the Ukrainian pianist to perfection. Her timing is direct and simple yet elegant (particularly noteworthy are transitions), and her deft articulation is never at the expense of tonal beauty. Lines are elegantly crafted and there is a wonderful interplay between primary and secondary voices.

Kolessa also regularly featured Scarlatti Sonatas in her programmes, with this Sonata in B-Flat Major L.396 appearing to have been a particular favourite. Once again, we hear crisp articulation, gorgeous tone, and transparent textures, her sense of rhythm remarkably steady without ever being rigid.

As stated above, Kolessa made only two LP recordings prior to her 1954 retirement, one of Brahms and another of Schumann, for the Concert Hall Society label in 1949. The Schumann disc featured a glowing traversal of the Schumann Etudes symphoniques Opp.13 and posth and the Toccata Op.7. The Toccata had been featured in her 1948 Carnegie Hall recital while the larger opus was one of the key works in her 1950 recital. A digital LP transfer of the Schumann is currently being remastered and will be shared at a later date – in the meantime, here is the released transfer of Kolessa’s performance of the Etudes symphoniques, in which she incorporates the posthumous variations alongside the Op.13. Here too Kolessa demonstrates her fusion of refined elegance with strength and intelligence: textures are transparent, tone is beautiful at all dynamic levels, timing is natural, architecture and character wonderfully clarified.

Kolessa played several large-scale works in her recitals, and the Brahms Handel Variations Op.24 that she put on disc is one that she had played at least as early as 1921 as per the concert programme reproduced here. As always, Kolessa plays with a combination of strength and elegance, with gorgeous tone, her mindful use of articulation shaping phrases and clarifying the diverse moods of each variation. Chords are impeccably voiced, dynamic levels skillfully layered, lines beautifully burnished, with some very interesting highlighting of left-hand voices often overlooked. A towering performance of this most challenging masterpiece that never never becomes overly weighty or a showpiece for the technical demands of the work.

To close this tribute to this remarkable artist, the Brahms Intermezzo in C-Sharp Minor Op.117 No.3, played with just the right degree of mournfulness and at a spacious tempo in the outer sections without the textures becoming dense or phrasing losing shape, as often happens in contemporary readings of Brahms (the contrast with her briskly-paced middle section is quite remarkable). With beautifully burnished tone, masterfully forged lines, and impeccable timing – most notable at transitions, so often overlooked! – Kolessa reveals depth and emotion with elegance and intelligence, reflecting her true fullness of character and her noble career.

Sincerest thanks to The Brazilian Piano Institute, Rémy Louis, and Michael W for the wonderful concert programmes reproduced in this feature; to Louis-Philippe Pelletier and an anonymous (at her request) pupil of Kolessa for their precious testimonials about this great artist; and to Charles Timbrell and Jean-Pascal Hamelin for their introductions to Kolessa’s pupils. 

I regularly state that we are living in the best time for the availability of historical recordings (I’ve actually been saying this since the 1990s), and 2020 was no exception. With the vast majority of concerts being cancelled, at-home listening and streaming was even more engaged in and despite the terrible challenges facing businesses and the arts, we saw some of our favourite labels release truly stupendous recordings, some previously available and others not.

Here is an overview of some releases that I found particularly impressive in the last year – with the caveat that this is not an exhaustive list by any stretch, simply those that I had the opportunity to hear, which made an impression, and which I believe might be of interest to listeners who subscribe to my page. If you are interested in ordering them (and I encourage you to support as much as possible the companies that are making these recordings available by doing so), the bold text in each paragraph contains a link that will open up a new page featuring the release at an online retailer.

Dinu Lipatti – 70 Years Later

I’ll start off with some publications that are especially meaningful for me because of my longtime involvement with Dinu Lipatti’s legacy – particularly important in 2020 as it was the 70th anniversary of the pianist’s premature death. To begin, APR’s release of Dinu Lipatti’s 1947-48 Columbia recordings, along with his test recordings with cellist Antonio Janigro. I had written the notes for APR’s first issue of the 1947 Abbey Road recordings back in 1999 – a commission which afforded me the opportunity to write my extensive 1999 article about Lipatti in International Piano Quarterly magazine that synthesized many of my findings about the pianist. I proposed this updated set to APR’s current owner Mike Spring (its founder Bryan Crimp produced the earlier set and it was thanks to him that I was able to get into EMI’s archives in 1991) when we last met in London in September 2018 and I am beyond thrilled to see this project completed.

Bryan’s transfers of the 1947 recordings were a revelation back in 1999 and they sound even better today. One of the most important elements is this 1947 account of a Chopin Waltz rarely available in long-playing formats because of Lipatti’s 1950 recording of the complete cycle – but this performance indicates how differently he played when in vibrant health and at EMI’s superb studio:

I had first heard about the Lipatti-Janigro recordings in my first correspondence with EMI in 1989 and it took me 20 years to get the complete existing set from a pupil of the cellists – including the only known recording of Lipatti playing Beethoven. This is the first CD publication of these unissued discs and they are a revelation.

I wrote the booklet notes for this set – some 3500 words or so – which covers a lot of ground about Lipatti’s recording career, including some important socioeconomic factors that had at least as much impact on the volume of Lipatti’s recordings as his illness. I include an excerpt of the notes at this page on my website, as well as the remarkable Beethoven recording, which I share here as well:

Another Lipatti release I was involved with is the culmination of decades of work, and not a recording but a printed publication: a four-section book of images produced by Romanian Cultural Institute entitled ‘Dinu Lipatti – The Musician in Pictures’. I contributed the final of the four chapters, focusing on Lipatti’s recording career and the posthumous hunt for lost recordings. The other chapters by Monica Isacescu, Stefan Costache, and Orlando Murrin all contain many photographs rarely or never seen before, which helps us truly view Lipatti in a different light. It was a delight to be able to work on this project – and once my copies arrived, a thrill to see that some of my words describing Lipatti’s playing were used on the back of the book!

Plans are underway to make the book available for order overseas – I will update this page when it is available for order.

A CD that went under the radar as 2020 came to a close is another Lipatti project for which I made a contribution: the Solstice label’s release of Lipatti’s final concert with orchestra, together with an unpublished audio interview with the pianist. I had done the booklet text and provided a good deal of feedback for the label’s stupendous issue of Lipatti’s last recital a few years ago (a must-buy for anyone who loves Lipatti) and I was happy to finally have the ideal opportunity to get this unpublished interview released – plans to issue it on archiphon in 2000 were scuttled when Tahra released the other two existing Lipatti interviews along with excerpts of this one (the complete interview did not exist in Swiss radio archives but we had a copy).

As always, Solstice did a brilliant job with both audio and presentation, reproducing my English translation of the French interview in a booklet that includes a terrific text by Alain Lompech. The disc features an unusual pairing: the US premiere concerto appearance of another Lefébure and Cortot pupil, Samson Francois. These two very different pianists who trained with the same teachers at the same time, both on the same disc, does indeed make for fascinating listening – highly recommended.

Closing a chapter

Pristine Classical continued its series of releases devoted to Jascha Spivakovsky, the Russian-born pianist who had a tremendous career but who issued no commercial recordings prior to his death in 1970. The ‘Bach to Bloch’ series begun in 2015 by Pristine together with Jascha’s son and grandson wrapped up in 2020 with the final disc in the series, the one on which the ‘Bach to Bloch’ was based: concert performances of Bach’s D Minor Concerto (in Busoni’s transcription) and Bloch’s Concerto Symphonique, a work the pianist prepared with the help of the composer. I became so enamoured with this pianist’s playing upon hearing the first release that I was quickly put in contact with the family, whom I visited in 2016, and commissioned to write the notes for each publication. I love each release and seeing the series draw to a close was both rewarding and disappointing; I can only hope that more recordings of the pianist will be found and issued (there are some duo recordings with his more famous brother, violinist Tossy Spivakovsky, that are under consideration).

Exceptional Eloquence

Another project that I was involved with which thrilled me came from the Eloquence label – by far the best of the big-label producers of historic reissues, with fantastic selections, marvellous remasterings, and informative booklets with superb presentation. (This recorded interview with Eloquence head honcho Cyrus Meher-Homji is well worth hearing.) I was commissioned to write the notes for a reissue of Jan Smeterlin’s glorious 1954 account of Chopin’s Nocturnes, together with a BBC broadcast and unpublished test record. Smeterlin’s playing is exquisite and the entire set is to me a revelation; researching and writing about this artist and his pianism was a true joy and unfortunately his relative obscurity and lack of showmanship might lead to his continuing to be overlooked – I do hope readers of this page will explore this remarkable 2-disc set. You can read my notes and explore the recordings at this post that I made on my website.

The same series of two-disc sets also featured by two other pianists I adore, Agnelle Bundervoët and Albert Ferber. Bundervoët is a somewhat fabled pianist who produced only one LP on Ducretet-Thomson and 3 French Decca discs before retiring from regular performance due to rheumatoid arthritis. Original pressings of these scarce discs fetch massive sums at auctions and while in recent years some broadcast recordings have been issued, her studio recordings were never officially remastered and issued (Sakuraphon did fine vinyl transfers a few years ago). Eloquence did an incredible job of reviving the master tapes and presenting them with a marvellous text written by my dear friend and colleague Frederic Gaussin, who was Bundervoët’s last pupil. An exceptional release.

Albert Ferber made some superb recordings, very few of which have been reissued (his complete Debussy cycle on a budget EMI box is a must) and the Decca recordings issued in this new set were completely new to me. While Ferber occasionally lacks that nth degree of bite in some of these performances, the craftsmanship is always on display and there is much to appreciate in his playing.

Two big box sets produced by the label last year are also exceptional: Ruth Slenczynska’s Complete American Decca Recordings and Andor Foldes’s Complete Deutsche Grammophon Recordings. Both are wonderfully remastered (some of the Foldes source material was more problematic), presented with original LP artwork sleeves, and with stunning booklets eloquently written by Stephen Siek. Both sets feature masterful playing by these artists and will be highly prized by fans of great piano playing.

Slenczynska has a unique pedigree, having had lessons with Hofmann, Rachmaninoff, Cortot, Schnabel, and Petri. The child prodigy abandoned concert career in her teens after enduring unspeakable stress at the hands of her cruel father, but resumed performance in the 1950s after her first marriage ended in divorce. The 10 LPs she produced for American Decca sound better than ever in this glorious remasterings, the refinement of her nuancing and robustness of her sonority being far more appreciable than in any online uploads. This phenomenal Rachmaninoff Prelude performance is but a taste of what can be heard in this terrific set:

Andor Foldes is a pianist I came to appreciate when I was commissioned to write the notes for an Eloquence release of his Mozart Concerto recordings a few years ago. I just adore his philosophies and playing, which you can read about and hear at this link on my website. This new box set is very welcome indeed, with some fabulous performances of a massive range of repertoire. As a pianist who worked with Bartok and Kodaly, Foldes brings some important insights to his playing of their works (he witnessed Bartok suggesting that a student play ‘a little less Bartokish’ – in other words, without banging), and his readings of all composers’ works are founded on intelligence and elegance. I am preparing a longer feature about him on my website, with recollections of a Hungarian colleague of mine in Japan who studied with him for years (one amazing insight: Foldes suggested nuancing by adjusting tonal colour more than timing).

Smaller labels

The APR label continues to produce exceptional compilations of great artists in discographically important releases that are essential in the collections of historical recording fans. In addition to the exceptional Lipatti release, APR produced three other superb sets of great importance last year: Wihelm Backhaus’s 1940s studio recordings, Aline van Barentzen’s earliest recordings, and Magda Tagliaferro’s complete 78-rpm solo and concerto recordings. In all three cases not every recording could be claimed to be these artists’ best efforts on disc – I have a particular fondness for Backhaus’s 1920s and 30s recordings (expertly issued by APR in recent years) and Barentzen’s early LPs – but these sets are of tremendous interest and historical value, as much for the recordings as the insightful documentation in the booklets.

How fascinating to learn, for example, that Barentzen was booked for the world premiere recording of Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain a matter of days before the 1928 sessions because Ricardo Viñes fell ill and unable to fulfill his commitment to record the piece (a great shame, it must be admitted). Barentzen learned the work in 3 days – and what a performance it is!

With Tagliaferro, there is always elegance, personality, and refinement, and there are many gems in this set, among them her recording of the obscure Reynaldo Hahn Piano Concerto (dedicated to her) with the composer conducting, played with inimitable wit and charm:

Backhaus was a different pianist after the war and would leave HMV for Decca, details of which are recounted in the booklet in a text by APR’s now-retired founder Bryan Crimp. But there is still very fine playing on this set, particularly a wartime Mozart Coronation Concerto which features the pianist’s own cadenzas.

2020 saw another set of superb releases by the marvellous collectors’ specialist label Meloclassic, with 9 piano issues and other sets featuring fine violinists and other musicians. Each issue features either well-known artists in rare performances (and/or repertoire) or artists who have been overlooked by posterity. Each of the new sets last year feature inspiring performances by legends such as John Ogden (a jawdropping Hammerklavier and complete Chopin Op.25!), Wilhelm Kempff, Andor Foldes, and Monique Haas (in chamber music – a delight!) as well as less-appreciated artists such as Poldi Mildner (truly top-tier), Hans Richter-Haaser, and Madeleine de Valmalete. A 2-disc set of Soviet pianists included two new to me, Nina Yemelyanova and  Tatyana Goldfarb – both fabulous – alongside better known Tatyana Nikolaeva and Lev Oborin. This was my first time to hear Yara Bernette – a 100th anniversary celebratory release – and the Stefan Askenase set was another welcome addition. Collectors know to pay attention when Meloclassic issues their productions and this latest batch is a treasure trove indeed.

Rhine Classics delivers two more releases in their Fiorentino and Scarpini series, one new set of each artist. After 2019’s jaw-dropping complete Rachmaninoff solo music by Fiorentino, 2020 saw a 9-CD set of the Italian pianist in recital in the US in the last three years of his life (1996-98). All master tapes were provided by Ernst Lumpe, the German collector who brought Fiorentino back to the concert stage and the studio (Lumpe introduced me to his playing when I first visited him in 1990). The sound is superb, as is the playing throughout – always insightful, moving, individual yet idiomatic. There is one recital at which he experienced some memory lapses, but even there his playing was mesmerizing, and each disc features some of the most sublime pianism you could hope to hear – every note, phrase, piece is beautifully played.

Pietro Scarpini is featured in a 5-CD set of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier and Die Kunst de Fuge, salvaged from tapes of both radio broadcasts and home sessions recorded for the pianist’s own documentation. The playing is less consistent than we hear in previous releases of Scarpini’s broadcast performances on this label (some ear- and eye-opening performances that I adore), and he can go from rather mundane phrasing to utterly sublime nuancing from one second to the next. He tends to eschew the pedal and employs some expansive ritardandi that are definitely arresting and insightful, and his overall approach reminds me of Alexander Borowsky’s account: earthy, almost rustic in its directness (he doesn’t emphasize burnished tonal colours), with a less-than-ideal instrument that almost sounds historical – a fascinating take that will be of particular interest to Scarpini fans and those exploring unconventional takes of these magnum opera.

Another smaller label, Sonetto Classics, released a fascinating two-disc set devoted to recordings of the enigmatic Hungarian pianist Ervin Nyiregyhazi. With a catalogue including living pianists Angelo Villani and Norma Fisher (all highly recommended releases) and an important previous release of Nyiregyhazi, this new set yet again features the idiosyncratic Hungarian pianist in rare performances in the best possible sound, soon after his ‘rediscovery’ and in his final recordings, 1973 and 1984 respectively. The playing is, as could be expected, not for the faint of heart, but it there is far less bombast than in some of his official studio efforts and the readings are both contemplative and insightful. The set contains two booklets, a well-documented text by Nyiregyhazi biographer Kevin Bazzana and a 20-page booklet of photographs of the pianist’s 1982 visit to Japan.

The Danacord label produced two sets that I consider essential listening: the conclusion of their series devoted to the great Danish pianist Victor Schiøler, who studied with both Schnabel and Friedman, and a teacher of Victor Borge. I am delighted to own all five sets they’ve produced – I’m a huge admirer of Schiøler – and each two-disc volume is superb, featuring nothing less than marvellous playing in each work. These latest sets – Volume 4 and Volume 5 – were issued in the first half of 2020 and include some concert performances alongside studio accounts, all in wonderful sound and featuring the pianist’s insightful playing. Who else could play a work as prone to exaggerated sentimentality and pomposity as Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-Sharp Minor with such elegance and musicality? A must!

Specialist label Marston Records put out two astounding piano releases this year that feature some amazing rarities, many of which have never been available before. The first is the highly-anticipated Volume 2 of their Landmarks of Recorded Pianism series. The set features studio and broadcast recordings by a host of legendary artists – Rosenthal, Grainger, Hambourg, Renard – as well as lesser known brilliant pianists like Reah Sadowsky and Etelka Freund. Among the most sky-opening performances in the set – some of the greatest playing of anything by anyone that I’ve heard – is a 1933 Tokyo radio broadcast of Ignaz Friedman which, despite the poor sound, reveals pianism even more expansive and powerful than his fabled commercial records. This video I prepared for Marston features some key excerpts from the set:

The year closed with a Marston set that includes all known existing recordings of the legendary Russian pianist Josef Lhevinne, including recordings that had never circulated amongst collectors. Considering he recorded nothing but short works – and barely an hour – hearing him in Tchaikovsky’s Concerto and a Brahms Quartet is a previously unimaginable pleasure! Below, my promo video for the set:

Amongst new recordings, there is one release by a pianist whom I know and admire greatly that is the highlight: Benjamin Grosvenor with his new disc of Chopin Concertos. This is not only one of the great modern accounts but could easily be counted among the greatest of all time, with exquisitely refined nuancing and beauty of tone in every measure. I am convinced that had Grosvenor put down his accounts in the 1930s, we would still be listening to them. Superb in every way.

As stated at the start of this feature, this is not an exhaustive list by any stretch – there are many recordings, both modern and historical, that I might have included had I heard them. With 2020 having been such a challenging year for the arts, it was fortunately still a banner year for recording releases, and I hope that artists and producers will be able to continue their work through 2021 and beyond. Our support is important, so please do purchase original sets when you can to support the labels in what was already a challenging economic climate for releasing recordings. Long may we have great music beautifully played to soothe our souls.

Clara Haskil died on December 7, 1960 as a result of injuries sustained in a fall at Brussels train station. She was only 65 at the time. Haskil had languished in obscurity for most of her life, finally enjoying international recognition in the last decade of her life, before this premature and truly tragic end.

It is likely Haskil’s suffering from several health issues and other challenges that imbued her playing with a sense of pathos that made her readings of the works of Mozart, Beethoven, and Schumann especially poignant; in Mozart and Schumann she was truly masterful in balancing the contradictory states of childlike innocence and existential angst. That said, Haskil was a brilliant interpreter of a much broader spectrum of the musical literature than is indicated by her official discography, which stems largely from studio sessions with the Philips and Deutsche Grammophon labels in the last ten years of her life. While a number of concert recordings have been released and therefore expanded her repertoire of recorded works, there are less-known private and test recordings are less known that are equally revealing and valuable, offering glimmers of greater insight into this tremendous musician’s artistry.

Perhaps the earliest recording we have of the artist is this Columbia test recording ca.1926 of Liszt’s Gnomenreigen – of interest not only because of its capturing Haskil’s playing almost a decade before her first issued recording of 1934 but because she would later produce not a single recording of Liszt’s music. As can be heard here, her technique and musicality are put to perfect use in this virtuosic repertoire.

Although she made a few shorter recordings in the 1930s, it wasn’t until 1947 that she would make her first large-scale recording: an account of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No.4 in G Major, conducted by Carlo Zecchi, who was a magnificent pianist himself (he was a disciple of Busoni) before becoming a conductor. Haskil plays with supple phrasing, remarkably transparent voicing, and glistening singing tone – the second movement is particularly ravishing, her voicing of chords being breathtaking.

Around the same time as this recording, Haskil gave a fascinating broadcast performance on the BBC, with Sir Thomas Beecham conducting, of Émile-Robert Blanchet’s Konzertstück Op.14. Haskil plays with a beautifully polished sonority, impressive virtuosity, and evocative nuancing (what wonderful pedalling). A fascinating and little-known rarity – a gem in her already glorious discography.

One of Haskil’s rarer studio recordings is a glorious reading of the Brahms Piano Quintet Op.34 with the Winterthur Quartet (with Peter Rybar on violin) that was recorded around the late 1940s. Although she would record in a collaborative role with violinist Arthur Grumiaux, she did not record in larger ensembles except for this rarely-available performance (she also recorded no other Brahms in her studio sessions). The performance here features wonderful ensemble, beautiful voicing, rhythmic vitality, long lines, and that marvellous singing sound of Haskil’s (discernible through the clicks and pops of the LP transfer).

One of Haskil’s first LPs was a Westminster disc featuring 11 Scarlatti Sonatas, which is a marvellous example of her artistry, especially her noted capacity to play with astounding directness and clarity – the fluidity of her phrasing and beauty of her tone are beguiling. Anyone who thinks this music is ‘simple’ would do well to listen carefully to these performances and try to emulate a single phrase with such elegance, transparency, and refinement. The clip below features 5 of the 11 Sonatas on that rarely-reissued disc.

Haskil’s crystalline playing was ideal for so many composers’ works and it is a shame that we have only one recording of her in Mendelssohn, a 1936 account of the Pièce Caractéristique Op.7 No.4, played with wonderful rhythm, clarity of articulation, and marvellous pedalling.

Even the many recordings of recitals that Haskil gave in the 1950s that have circulated amongst collectors and been unofficially released are missing works by certain composers that she played, leading many to believe she never played them at all.  This private recording of Rachmaninoff’s Etude-Tableau in C Major Op.33 No.2 is truly unexpected, as there’s not a note of Haskil playing Russian repertoire in her studio or concert discography. Despite having been captured on an amateur device on a somewhat out-of-tune piano, this performance is a fascinating opportunity to hear the Romanian pianist in this repertoire – the only known example of her playing a work by the great Russian composer. What long soaring melodic lines, spacious timing, and rich textures we hear in this fascinating performance!

As mentioned in reference to the Brahms Quintet recording, Haskil made no official recordings of solo works by that composer, which makes this home recording of the Capriccio Op.76 No.5 (one of two Brahms works she recorded at the time) all the more intriguing. Her clarity of texture and emotive timing reveal the harmonic richness of the music without the weightiness that seems to have become the norm today (über-serious readings of his works are now virtually ubiquitous), and her wonderful shaping of lines and gorgeous tone are appreciable despite the less-than-ideal piano.

In commemoration of the 70th anniversary of Dinu Lipatti’s death on December 2, 1950, a collection of commercial and unofficial recordings arranged in a recital format.

My own introduction to Lipatti’s playing came in 1985, when I was in my teens and had just discovered historical piano recordings. That was 35 years after Lipatti died – and now another 35 years have passed. I had no idea when I first saw his name in an Angel Records sampler with the somewhat morbid title, ‘Dinu Lipatti’s Last Recital,’ that I would be as involved with his legacy as I have been. Over the course of the last three decades particularly, I have had several trips to Europe to meet Lipatti’s friends and students, and visited archives and private collections in an attempt to locate and have released rare recordings that showed the fuller capabilities of this great pianist’s artistry than is revealed by the handful of recordings he made for EMI over the course of the last few years of his life.

I had no clue that some of my findings would upturn much of the official narrative. Many of the best-known anecdotes about the pianist – that he wanted three or four years to prepare the Tchaikovsky or Emperor Concertos, that he only played Beethoven Sonatas in the last two years of his life, that he was reluctant to record due to his perfectionism – turned out to be completely false. I still recall how my jaw dropped when, at the EMI archives, I held with my own hands copies of memos signed by his producer Walter Legge that stated Lipatti had agreed in 1948 to record Tchaikovsky’s Concerto in 1949, and that Lipatti himself requested to record a Beethoven Concerto, when he was the one who had spread the aforementioned stories of Lipatti’s reticence to record or play these works! Memo after memo revealed that a lack of foresight and bad luck had unfortunately conspired to limit Lipatti’s recorded output to a handful of small-scale works that only hint at the fullness of his interpretative powers. How tragic that he did not record Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata (which he played regularly in the last decade of his life, not just the last two years), or Schumann’s Etudes symphoniques, as he’d requested EMI to do, or Ravel’s Le tombeau de Couperin – or other shorter works, such as Debussy’s La soirée dans Grenade and Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance, both of which were scheduled to be recorded but for some reason weren’t.

Lipatti often played recitals featuring an array of works from Baroque to 20th century, in chronological sequence, sometimes centred around one main work. The collection here features some of the works he most regularly programmed, in similar groupings: he often paired these two Bach chorales in this order, as well as the first of the two Scarlatti Sonatas presented here (unfortunately a recording of the third usually grouped with these has not been salvaged). One of the central works he often played in these recitals was Chopin’s Third Sonata, which is featured here, grouped with other solo Chopin works as he often did. (Among the other large-scale works that often figured in his recitals was Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata, Schumann’s Etudes symphoniques, and Ravel’s Le tombeau de Couperin.)

He also regularly put together two or three Brahms solo works – I’ve included four as none of these are part of Lipatti’s studio discography and because these particular performances reveal so much of his interpretative genius. It is also unfortunate that we do not have the two works that he most often paired with Ravel’s Alborada del Gracioso – Debussy’s La soirée dans Grenade and Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance – but ending with this most vivacious recording of the pianist seemed a fitting end to this tribute recital.

Fortunately even in the last couple of years – well over half a century after the pianist died – new recordings, photographs, and other material have come to light which enable a fuller apprehension of Lipatti and his artistry. Let us hope that more will continue to be found and made available. I am in collaboration with several dedicated Lipatti researchers – his biographer Grigore Bargauanu, Romanian scholars Monica Isacescu and Stefan Costache, and British researcher Orlando Murrin (whose findings the last few years have been groundbreaking) – to continue to locate and publish as much as possible what we can find.

At the bottom of this page, you will find the ‘recital’ that I have composed based on recordings made by Lipatti between 1941 and 1950, in a variety of circumstances. I hope you enjoy the performances, and would ask that you consider purchasing the releases that have featured these performances when possible. Details about the published recordings can be found at the bottom of the page.

Dinu Lipatti: A 70th Anniversary Anthology ‘Recital’

Bach-Busoni: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland

Bach-Hess: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring

Scarlatti: Three Sonatas:

G Major K.9

G Minor K.450

D Minor K.14

Chopin:

Sonata No.3 in B Minor Op.58

Waltz No.2 in A-Flat Major Op.34 No.1

Two Etudes: Op.25 No.5 and Op.10 No.5

Liszt:

Two Etudes: La Leggierezza and Gnomernreigen

Brahms:

Intermezzo in E-Flat Major (abbr.) Op.117 No.1

Intermezzo in A Minor (abbr.) Op.116 No.2

Intermezzo in C Major Op.119 No.3

Capriccio in D Minor Op.116 No.7

Ravel: Alborada del Gracioso

The link to play it in your browser:

https://hearthis.at/the-piano-files/lipatti-anthology-recital/BZt/

The recordings featured:

Bach chorales taken from Opus Kura’s wonderful release of these recordings: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/7990304–dinu-lipatti-studio-recordings-in-geneva-july-1950

Scarlatti G minor and G major Sonatas among recent discoveries released on Marston Records: https://www.marstonrecords.com/products/landmarks1

Scarlatti D Minor Sonata, Chopin Sonata, and Chopin Waltz from APR’s new release of Lipatti’s Abbey Road recordings: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8784565–lipatti-the-complete-columbia-recordings-1947-1948

Chopin Etudes transferred by Werner Unger on our 2000 ‘Cornerstones’ tribute CD: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8020233–les-inedits

Two Liszt Etudes from my co-produced set Les Inedits on Unger’s archiphon label, now out of print – Gnomenreigen here featured from new source material. https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8020233–les-inedits

First two Brahms Intermezzi from 1995 and 2000 releases I co-produced with Unger on his archiphon label, now only available digitally: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8020227–dinu-lipatti-cornerstones-1936-1950

Second two Brahms works on Marston Records’ Landmarks of Recorded Pianism Vol.1: https://www.marstonrecords.com/products/landmarks1

Ravel’s Alborada from APR’s new set of Lipatti’s Abbey Road recordings: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8784565–lipatti-the-complete-columbia-recordings-1947-1948

On the 125th anniversary of Wilhelm Kempff’s birth, I offer a very brief selection of some recordings made throughout his long career.

Kempff’s name was one of the most visible in record stores for a very long time: he was a long-time fixture on the Deutsche Grammophon roster, and there is probably hardly a classical music fan in the world who didn’t have some of his records in their collection. Once I got immersed in historical recordings, however, I became interested in performers who were both active in the earlier years of recordings and also less known than the headlining pianists from the LP era. Today I appreciate a lot of different styles of playing and I will admit that much of what I heard of Kempff’s discography over the years does not appeal to me as much as the playing of other artists. That said, I am very well aware that artists might have played very differently at various times of their lives and also in live concerts vs. recording studios; Kempff is one of those, and there are indeed many performances of this pianist that I enjoy tremendously.

Kempff gave his first major recital in 1917 and his final recital in 1981 (he died in 1991 at the age of 95), meaning that his career spanned nearly 65 years. Given the evolution of recording technology in this period went from acoustical (horn-amplified) 78rpm discs through to stereo LPs, it is little wonder that many of the artists first performances would be overlooked in favour of his later recordings. Nevertheless, it is always interesting to hear artists in their youth (and in later years, for different reasons) – and that is certainly the case with Kempff.

It is only recently that I came across this acoustical recording of Kempff playing the Schumann Toccata, a disc for the Polydor label that I’ve never seen reissued. We find him playing here with wonderful clarity and dexterity, great rhythmic vitality, and clearly voiced melodic lines, as well as with more abandon than was often heard in later years.

Given that Kempff recorded the complete Beethoven Sonatas twice, in mono between 1951 and 1956 and again in stereo in 1964-65. It’s worth noting that he was in his 50s and 60s at the time, so his playing would naturally be very different than when he was in his 20s, which makes his earlier performances fascinating to hear. While the APR label has done a wonderful job in reissuing a number of his earlier accounts of Beethoven Sonatas and Concertos (highly recommended releases, as always with that label), the acoustic recording of the Appasionata Sonata below – another Polydor recording, ca.1924-25 – has never been reissued.

Another marvellous early recording, this time benefitting from amplified microphone technology (aka ‘electrical recording’), is this stunning 1935 reading of the Schubert-Liszt “Horch, horch, die Lerch” (“Hark, Hark, the Lark”), which captures his tonal colours and deft articulation to perfection:

One of the issues with the music industry is how typecast artists can become: Kempff was primarily known for his readings of Beethoven and Brahms, but his repertoire was vaster, even if his studio discography does not reveal much of the repertoire that one might encounter in his concert appearances. This 1945 German radio broadcast of the artist in Gabriel Fauré’s gorgeous Nocturne No.6 is a major departure from the repertoire with which he is associated and is an absolutely marvellous reading, captured on tape at a time when major labels were still recording directly onto disc: what sumptuous phrasing, long lines, fluid legato, flawlessly-timed pedalling, magical dynamic shadings (the pianissimo that comes in at the 4-minute mark is absolutely breathtaking), and attentive voicing.

Kempff’s gorgeous 1955 recording of Rameau’s Le Rappel des Oiseaux is another departure from his repertoire, played with utterly beguiling tone, magnificent pedal effects, and exquisite sensitivity:

I don’t mean to suggest that all of Kempff’s earlier recordings are inherently better, as there are indeed some marvellous late performances, such as this 1975 account of Bach transcriptions (with a couple by Gluck at the end), played with reverence and astounding beauty:

A final offering of Kempff in concert in 1978, near the end of his career – aged 82, just a few years before he retired – finds him in repertoire for which he is also not as known: Chopin.  This live performance of the Nocturne in B Major Op.9 No.3 finds him playing with wonderful tone, soaring phrasing, and tremendous ease and freedom.

Kempff’s place in the pantheon of pianists is secure as a result of his massive discography and a stable reputation amongst music lovers. I can only hope that more of his discography – and his concert performances – will only help to expand our perception of this marvellous artist.

November 28 this year was the 83rd anniversary of Josef Hofmann’s Golden Jubilee concert at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York. It was a key performance in a series of concerts celebrating the Polish pianist’s 50 years on stage, and fortunately for posterity this incredible event was recorded, without his knowledge (his wife arranged it and he found out about it soon after). Columbia issued some of the solo works on LP in 1955, and the International Piano Library and then International Piano Archives would later make the entire concert available.

The recording of this event of 83 years ago showcasing a pianist born almost 145 years ago features some of the most miraculous playing ever captured on disc and is one of the landmarks of recorded pianism. I will never forget the look on a fellow student’s face back in university when I played him Hofmann’s reading of Chopin’s First Ballade from this concert: after a stunned silence, he simply said ‘I never knew playing like this was possible.’ Indeed, most piano students – and many professionals – still don’t.

Hofmann’s very individual approach fell out of favour with as the Urtext movement grew, as more objective, less personal performance (as opposed to *interpretation*) became the norm – the irony being that at his time Hofmann was seen as more restrained than some of his colleagues. Jorge Bolet was horrified to hear of teachers telling students not to listen to Hofmann’s recordings. Indeed, when the Columbia LP presented here was issued in 1955, Hofmann had not issued a recording for some 30 years and the tides had changed, Hofmann’s style seeming to be something very much of the past.

I would not advocate playing like Hofmann (I don’t suggest anyone play like anyone, but develop their unique voice) but I think that if you aren’t aware of what is possible – of what tonal colours can be produced, how phrasing can be shaped, how primary and secondary voices can communicate, and how the pedal can be used beyond ‘on’ and ‘off’ – then how limited a present-day pianist’s and listener’s concepts of what piano playing is and can be.

The Columbia LP linked below, while lacking a few of the solo works from the concert as well as the two concerted works that Hofmann played, features a good deal of the truly legendary performances from that phenomenal event. In addition to the Chopin Ballade mentioned above, one of my favourite readings from this concert is Hofmann’s reading of Rachmaninoff’s ever-popular Prelude in G Minor Op.23 No.5. The composer was a great fan of Hofmann’s and a dear friend, and it boggles the mind that he dedicated his Third Concerto to Hofmann and that Hofmann never played it, as it has now become what is probably the most popular piano concerto of all time. In particular listening to the middle section of this Prelude, we can get a pretty clear idea of how his approach to the concerto might have sounded and indeed the kind of playing that Rachmaninoff might have had in mind when he wrote it: the silky pedal effects, the mind-blowing transparency of textures, that three-note secondary voice soaring above the more muted silky-pedalled undulation as if coming from a completely different instrument. And the incisive rhythm of the outer sections, as well as taut voicing of chords, is stunning as well. There are miracles in this performance that simply must be heard to be believed – and even then, they can be hard to believe.

I could write extensively about each of these performances, and in some previous posts I have. The Chopin Nocturne Op.9 No.2 with its soaring line, lean textures, and remarkably subtle pedal effects; the Berceuse with wonderful pearl-like runs, polished tone, the most magnificent pedalling, and a marvellous ‘gong’ effect towards the end; the Moszkowski Caprice Espagnole with truly jaw-dropping virtuosity, its towering fortissimos contrasted with feathery pianissimos, rapid-fire repeated notes… each piece on this program is a miracle of pianism – yes, from bygone age, but the music played is from a bygone age too, and so this style of performance at the very least needs to be heard if one professes to have an interest in the music of other eras. We are so beyond fortunate that today we have such easy access to so many recorded treasures of the distant past. The entire concert is still available on CD, on the VAI label, produced by Hofmann scholar Gregor Benko and remastered by master engineer Ward Marston (click here).

Stupendous pianism by one of the all-time legends of the keyboard!

Chopin:

0:06 Waltz (“Minute”) Op. 64 No. 1

2:17 Ballade No. 1 in G Minor Op.23

10:27 Berceuse Op.57

13:55 Andante Spianato & Grande Polonaise Op.22

25:13 Etude Op 25 No 9

26:35 Nocturne Op 9 No 2

30:42 Rachmaninoff Prelude in G Minor Op.23 No.5

34:32 Mendelssohn Spinning Song

36:24 Beethoven-Rubinstein Turkish March (from “The Ruins of Athens”)

38:24 Moszkowski Caprice Espagnole Op.37