Daniel Barenboim - Beethoven: The Piano Sonatas (9CD BoxSet) (1999) CD-Rip

As a schoolboy, I often heard or read the received wisdom among musicians that while Bach's 48 were the Old Testament of keyboard literature, Beethoven's 32 piano sonatas were the New. It's a long time since I came across the remark, but if one had to bestow these labels, it's still unlikely that they would go elsewhere, and although the Bach now seems to belong rather more to harpsichordists, pianists still like to master and then to survey the Beethoven sonatas as a whole. Daniel Barenboim has recorded them twice: his second set came out five years ago, but here is his first, recorded in London between 1966 and 1969 with Suvi Raj Grubb as the producer and usually Christopher Parker or Martin Benge as the recording engineer. Barenboim was under 25 when the project got under way, and he told Grubb that it would represent his conception and interpretation of the sonatas at that time of his life but not his ''last Will and Testament'' about them.
Twenty years on, these performances still stand as a fine achievement, and not merely when judged as those of a greatly gifted young artist. Despite the vast interpretative range needed by the music, Barenboim is inside it stylistically, and the playing—which was always from memory—has the kind of confident spontaneity that is only possible where there is deep knowledge, not only of the letter but also of the spirit. Energy is one element here, as Beethoven clearly demands, but this is a life force that expresses itself not merely in dynamics and speed but also in humour and impulse. In fact, although the dynamic range is wide (''immense'' was the producer's word), the pianist never uses it to enliven music that needs the quiet middle ground. Indeed, we have intimations of the later Barenboim in the way he is inclined to restraint in lyrical music, and the intensity of slow movements has more to do with rapt concentration than with dramatic gesture or self-conscious charm, though I think the Largo appassionato of Op. 2 No. 2 could have a rather stronger feeling and tends to blandness.
One criticism may be made over tempos, which is that they occasionally go towards extremes; slow movements are sometimes slower than we expect, as with Op. 2 Nos. 1 and 3, Op. 10 No. 1 and Op. 31 No. 2 (the Tempest) and others such as the famous Largo e mesto of Op. 10 No. 3 here lasting a full 12 minutes as against Ashkenazy's 9' 49'' (Decca) and Brendel's 10' 40'' (Philips). However, if conversely the Prestissimo finale of Op. 2 No. 1 seems too much of a display of velocity, we may point out that this tempo mark is rare enough in Beethoven for a pianist to conclude that a speed only possible to a virtuoso is what he wanted—and even here the delivery is flexible enough to avoid the feeling of relentlessness (ditto the Prestissimo in Op. 10 No. 1), though once or twice the loudest tone gets a bit harsh, say at the big chords at 2'11'' in this movement. Where I do rather part company with Barenboim is in the way he changes to a slower pace for the sempre piano e dolce tune that follows those chords—it's here, of course, that lesser pianists, invariably too slow in the opening music, speed up because it's now easier!—but this kind of freedom is part and parcel of the authority of his playing and it's never over-used; thus the Allegro vivace first movement of Op. 2 No. 2 is expressed less in sheer pace than in witty, deft yet unhurried playing (we know from the producer that the pianist enjoyed the fun of its graceful rondo finale) and the Allegro assai finale of Op. 2 No. 3 is quick but never breathless. Other finales that are full of intelligent wit are those of Op. 10 Nos. 2 and 3, Op. 14 No. 2 and Op. 28 as well as the two-movement Op. 54, and though I think that of Op. 7 to be slow for Poco allegretto, Brendel takes a similar view.
Robust yet sensitive, fresh and witty, yet alert to detail, whether of articulation or expression; these are performances to enjoy as well as admire. In the middle sonatas, with their new mellowness (as in Op. 26 and the Pastoral, here with a very steady opening Allegro) and their ''Sturm und Drang'' (the Moonlight, Tempest and Appassionata), the pianist rises no less to the interpretative challenges while the technical ones cause no difficulty, and the playing is as forceful as necessary—witness the finale of the Moonlight (more stormy than on his later account for DG) and the outer movements of the Appassionata, where the finale is steadily paced for all its fire. The Presto alla tedesca of the terse G major Sonata, Op. 79, is vivid indeed and the combined vigour and serenity of the Waldstein are again in firm focus, though the very deliberate finale will not please everyone and the pianist himself took a minute less in his later recording, as he also did with the Adagio of Op. 31 No. 2. Serenity is of course a major feature of the last sonatas. Barenboim was already at home in this uniquely introspective music with its inner dramas as well as its external struggles with Nature and notes, though in general his later DG set underlines points less. The finale of the two-movement Op. 101, while the March in this sonata strides forward with buoyant strength; strength and sweetness find their place too in the Hammerklavier.
These are fine performances, by turns striding and songful, and the Arietta in the last sonata of all radiantly realizes what has been called the movement's 'fall upwards' into celestial regions at a deliberate pace that makes it last (and in Barenboim's later performance as well) around 20 minutes as compared with the 17 of Ashkenazy and Brendel. The recording is excellent, with full yet often delicate piano sound, and though inevitably there is a little residual tape hiss one soon ceases to notice it. Once or twice, e.g. in the finale of Op. 26, I noticed other tiny background noises.
This Barenboim issue comes at bargain price. Ashkenazy will cost you rather more, but here is another major account of the Beethoven sonatas and serious collectors will want to possess this one as well. It goes without saying that the Russian-born pianist is as well equipped technically as his colleague, but he, recording mostly in the 1970s and thus when a few years older than Barenboim for EMI, is the less complex, less Germanically thoughtful player; he does not offer any really controversial slow tempos and we may notice that, after discounting the Andante favori that he also plays, his total time is about an hour less than Barenboim's. One extra convenience with this Decca issue is that the sonatas are played exactly in order, not the case with the Barenboim set. Ashkenazy's recording is a little sharper in focus than that of the EMI issue, too, and the sound is more tactile, especially in forte where a trace of hardness is perceptible but not always unpleasing or unstylish in this music—those same chords in the finale of Op. 2 No. 1, for example, here at 2'03'', or the start of Op. 10 No. 1, or the lively finale of Op. 10 No. 2 (where there is too much hardness for my taste). His reading of the Moonlight Sonata has been admired, but I find the slow first movement a trifle mannered rhythmically although the finale is predictably thrilling. However, whilst a virtuoso technique is in evidence in such music as this, Ashkenazy has far more to him and the personality of this playing is sensitive and likeable.
Overall, these performances mostly let the music speak for itself—or more accurately, seem to do so—in a way which is attractive and straightforward while being less challenging and generally (again I say it) less controversial than Barenboim, for which reason collectors may well prefer them; listen to the spacious Adagio grazioso of Op. 31 No. 1, the first movement of Op. 31 No. 3 or the two little sonatas, Op. 49, to see if you respond positively, as I do, to Ashkenazy's clear, clean view. Certainly his thoughtful yet energetic account of the Waldstein will please many people more than Barenboim's introspection, and though he hurries and forces the Allegretto finale of Op. 54, I admit to finding the result exciting and attractive.
The Appassionata and other big middle-period works suit Ashkenazy admirably; there are no problems here save perhaps with that hard forte tone, maybe acceptable in Op. 57 and in the finale of Les adieux but less so in the different world inhabited by Opp. 78 and 79 (in the second movement of which the finale is dispatched rather brusquely too) and the second movement of Op. 109. But in the lilting finale of Op. 90 and again in Op. 101 he delivers the music with songful grace as well as strength; the fugal finale of Op. 101 dances as well. In scaling the mighty peaks of the last four sonatas—Ashkenazy is again more straightforward than Barenboim, so that the Hammerklavier is less titanic and the Arietta of Op. 111, though eloquent, is not so soul-searching; but the first movement of this last sonata is magnificent and the quiet nobility of the playing of the work as a whole will be refreshing if you want a change from the musical expression of Goethean imponderables.
It's hard to decide between these two artists, but if I had to do so I think I would go for the young Barenboim for his special insights, including his humour in such sonatas as Op. 2 No. 2 and the Pastoral, and his warmth in Op. 26, as well as the way that he seems to see everything as if afresh. I would therefore pay the price of occasional discomfort with this or that movement. His tone also has a bit more depth than Ashkenazy's, though the Russian pianist has a point and attack (say in the brisk finale of Op. 2 No. 3, the more leisurely one of Op. 7 or that of Op. 26 with its gentle toccata figuration) that has its own attraction and conviction. For the majority of collectors, EMI's bargain price must also be worth remembering.
We are, of course, spoilt for choice, Barenboim's later DG set is well recorded and has a fine ripeness, but on balance it seems a bit too serious-minded at times and the extra directness of the earlier one makes it still more attractive. Brendel's set is also among the finest available, well recorded and including the Andante favori as well; but, again, for freshness I would go for the present bargain EMI issue with Barenboim.'