by Bill Heck
Beethoven: Piano Sonatas 28, 29. James Brawn,
piano. MSR Classics MS 1473
I had mixed feelings as I started listening to this, the
last volume in James Brawn’s traversal of Beethoven’s piano sonatas. Not mixed
feelings about the performances: see below for more on that front. No, it was
just that we have reached the end of this excellent cycle. Those who have seen
reviews of several earlier volumes by our colleague JJP and me will recall
that we were, to say the least, favorably impressed. Naturally I was eager to
hear the latest. But it was a bit like opening that last present at the
birthday party when I was a little kid: the cycle is complete; there’s nothing
to anticipate, no wonderful surprises to look forward to.
Those who have followed this cycle know that these volumes
have not comprised a cycle in the common sense of starting with Number 1 and
counting up; instead, the volumes have been a series of programs, each
consisting of two or three sonatas chosen for musical reasons. This final
volume does include two consecutive sonatas, though, and the two present both
similarities and interesting contrasts.
No. 28 usually is considered the first of Beethoven’s “late
period” sonatas; I had not heard it in some time, so it was fun to be
reacquainted. To me, the first movement sounds improvisatory, bringing to mind
a pianist jamming, playing with a series of themes and riffs – although in this
case, the jam is at an otherworldly musical level. (Readers who are taken aback
at such a comparison should feel free to dismiss this as crazy rambling.) It is
astonishing to realize that Beethoven was composing things like this despite
his near-total deafness. More generally, this work, as the excellent booklet
points out, looks back to earlier sonatas in terms of structure, but a few
moments listening reassures us that Beethoven is probing more deeply, is
experimenting more freely than in those previous works. At the same time, the
mood here is fresh and light in what is a rather short sonata (Brawn completes
it in just over 20 minutes). Perhaps the most likely listener reaction to this
work is simple joy.
No. 29 (Hammerklavier)
is harder to categorize. Beethoven seems to throw in everything, and the
technical demands on the pianist are outrageous: the work not only may be the most difficult of
Beethoven’s piano compositions but is one of the more difficult by any
composer. Moreover, this is a huge, sprawling work; Brawn’s timing here is
about 48 minutes.
I mentioned earlier the favorable reception of previous
volumes in this series by JJP and me, so it will come as no surprise that I am
more than satisfied with this one as well. Indeed, this review can be relatively
brief because most of what I could say would simply repeat positive comments
that I’ve made earlier. As in the previous volumes in the series, there is a
certain rightness about Brawn’s playing: upon listening, one is left with a feeling
that yes, of course, that’s exactly the way it should be done. It’s always
possible to hear what’s going on: Brawn eschews excessive use of the sustain
pedal, his articulation is clear without being so ostentatious as to distract
from the music. I don’t mean to say that the performances are without character;
rather, in each case, the “character” seems to fit well with the work being
performed.
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Beethoven in later life
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And I certainly don’t mean to say that Brawn, or anyone else,
plays any of the sonatas, particularly the late ones and even more particularly
the Hammerklavier, in the only possible way. As just one example, a point
that struck me upon listening was the range of possible approaches in the
fourth and final movement of the Hammerklavier. In the central section
of this movement, the titanic fugue, it strikes me that Brawn focuses on
clarifying inner details of the intertwining voices. Contrast this with, say,
the early 1950’s recording by Rudolph Serkin (which miraculously still sounds
quite good), with its stricter adherence to, and even emphasis on, an almost
metronomic tempo. Again, I don’t mean that one fails to play in tempo or the
other obscures the notes, just that one performance can’t do everything,
especially is such a formidable work as this. Which is “correct”, which is
“better”? Obviously neither, they are simply different, and both are the
products of deep insight (and undoubtedly of incredibly difficult work during
practice sessions).
Given the number of Beethoven sonata cycles out there, it
would be silly to proclaim one “the best” or to suppose that one set of interpretation
has said everything that there is to say in such musically rich works. But
Brawn’s entire odyssey is one to which I shall return often.
As usual in this series, the recorded sound is excellent,
with the rich tones of the Steinway D presented in all their glory. As the
booklet notes, Beethoven “…often complained about the limitations of the piano,
proclaiming…’It is and remains an inadequate instrument’”. Not to denigrate the
often insightful recordings relying on “original instruments” or copies
thereof, but I can’t help wondering what Beethoven would have thought of the contemporary
use of period instruments to allow us to hear that with which he was so
dissatisfied. At least in this case, I have to think that Beethoven would have
approved of the newer instrument.
In summary, if you’re not familiar with Brawn’s Beethoven
Odyssey, now would be a good time to check it out. Start anywhere and enjoy
some fine performances of this wondrous music. Oh, and that business that I
mentioned earlier about nothing to look forward to? Brawn’s Facebook postings
indicate that, for now, after twelve years of work on this project, he wants to
spend more time on performance and music education (one of his great passions).
That’s understandable. But I hope that we’ll see something new in the way of
recordings in the not too distant future.
