Stephen Kovacevich - Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 (1994)

Just think what I dreamed last night’, Brahms told Clara Schumann. ‘I had used my symphony which came to grief for a piano concerto.’ The dream came true: what had begun life as a sonata for two pianos, and then been sketched out as the start of a symphony, became a grandly imposing concerto opening movement. It is much to Sawallisch’s credit that this first movement – one of the most thrilling in all Brahms – conveys solemnity without ever sacrificing drama and tension. Stephen Kovacevich is on top form, too: just listen to the exhilarating way he launches (aided by Wimbledon-style grunts) into the powerful double octaves at the start of the central section. The serene slow movement – a requiem for Schumann – is quite beautifully handled, and there’s no shortage of gipsy exuberance in the finale. The LPO play superbly throughout, and my only reservation – a small one – concerns the piano’s very first entry. Brahms composes a ‘dissolve’, in which the soloist takes over the cellos’ figuration. Kovacevich’s left-hand rubato here means that the transition is not quite as seamless as it should be. The serene late songs with viola, touchingly sung by Ann Murray, provide an extra incentive to acquire this outstanding release. Performance: 5 (out of 5), Sound: 5 (out of 5) -- Misha Donat

Brahms's song of the dying girl ''Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer'' recalls with tender pathos the ghostly half-remembered outline of the theme of the slow movement of the Second Piano Concerto. It is one of five songs that make up his Op. 105 Lieder and it is marvellous to have not only this song so sympathetically performed by Ann Murray and Stephen Kovacevich but the whole group. Three of the songs are decently represented on record—''Immer leiser'', the thrilling ''Auf dem Kirchhofe'' and the soaringly lovely ''Wie Melodien zieht es mir''. But until now you would have sought in vain the group as a group. This is a pity when the third song, the folksy ''Klage'', makes so delightful a foil to its immediate neighbours, and when the final song, ''Verrat'', is such a splendid example of a ballad about homicide being treated by the mature Brahms with a subtlety we don't always find in some of his more bloodcurdlingly dramatic earlier settings.

So the formula has worked again. With Kovacevich's marvellous, Gramophone Award-winning disc of the D minor Concerto (10/92) it was the glorious late songs with viola and piano; now it is Op. 105, equally pertinent. Before that, in the Scherzo of the new recording of the B flat Concerto, the sonority and attack of the playing rekindles memories of that earlier disc. Brahms in D minor clearly works wonders for these musicians. - Richard Osborne