Too fast. Too sloppy.
That's the sort of criticism that has been leveled at these live performances of Argentine-born pianist extraordinaire Martha Argerich, recorded in 1978 and 1979 and released in 2000 by EMI Classics. Once more, she makes short work of Robert Schumann's Fantasiestücke and Maurice Ravel's Sonatine and the diabolical (in more senses than one) Gaspard de la Nuit. Indeed, they are nothing if not stunning. Perhaps too much so for some, especially the Schumann.
Personally, I like 'em the way she plays 'em here--bold, tempestuous, uninhibitedly feral, disturbing when called for, at times mellow and genteel--yes, the powerhouse pianist is fully capable of genteel playing. Of technical brilliance she certainly lacks none, but technically brilliant pianists are not hard to find these days. It's the rare artist who puts that prodigious technique to good use, to produce a performance that, besides dazzling its listeners, also speaks directly to their souls. I'm talking about the pianist's immediate, complete, unyielding hold upon the audience, who are caught in a kind of trance in which everything else outside of the music ceases to exist. Witchcraft, you might say? Whatever it is, it works for me. Perhaps in the witchhunting days of yore, Martha might have been one of those burned at the stake.
In the classical music world especially, much of the passion can be squeezed out of performances, a victim of certain narrow-minded, dogmatic segments who tut-tut at anyone who dares stray from the standard musical path and strict adherence to the score (which means exactly—what?). Technical perfection is well and good, but if the heart and soul of the performer are not in evidence, the playing amounts to nothing more than an impressive exercise, a sterile, clinical reading devoid of the human element. No, thanks, I'll pass on that.
And yet there are certain limits to the musical liberties taken that must also be respected. Interpretations that are totally out of whack, and a complete absence of control are shunned by all but the brave and foolish, although genius might make something else altogether of a well-known piece. (The forty-year-old controversial reinterpretation of Brahms by Bachian Glenn Gould comes to mind.)
In my view, the challenge for classical music performers is to bring out the essence of a work, its overt and hidden meanings, while having the discipline to remain within certain universally accepted bounds that define it as "classical music," and not jazz or pop or what-have-you. Reasonable changes in the tempo, rhythm, loudness and touch, perhaps, among a host of others, can all be made to this end.
'Tis clearly a fine line, and one that Martha Argerich has managed to tread (stretch?) so skillfully. Oftentimes, just when you feel she's about to plunge over the edge and into the ravine like a runaway truck, she slams on the brakes and makes a swift turn in one quick, deft, subtle move, and you finally catch your breath as she brings you back to safety—in the meantime, you've just experienced a trip filled with spine-tingling thrills!
And yet her impressive playing is not limited to thunder and lightning by any means. Her more pensive, lyrical passages often boast such exquisite moments of ethereal grace and beauty. The depth and breadth of her reading of a single work can be of such magnitude, they may equal a lifetime's worth for many others. Okay, perhaps a bit exaggerated, but you get my drift.What strikes you at once in these live recital pieces is the clarity of her melodic lines. You immediately "get" what the work is about through her translucent and revelatory readings. Her playing isn't note-perfect (in the Fantasiestücke and Gaspard de la Nuit), but so what? It's the spirit of the performance that matters. Besides, to me it also implies an endearing imperfection in this god-like pianist. (Vladimir Horowitz was accused of the same crime.)
Martha gives the impression of having such absolute mastery over each piece that they've now become part of her own being. Or that the composers speak through her. I often wonder if she keeps a secret hotline open to the spirits of these long-gone fellows. No doubt others may disagree totally (and vehemently) with my opinions here. I'm neither a professional musician nor even a decent amateur. I simply know which performers move me at a profound level.
(Just an aside here. I recently heard Russian pianist Evgeny Kissin's interpretation of Frederic Chopin's Barcarolle [in F sharp major, opus 60] and, of course, had to find out how Martha's version stacked up. The contrast between the two readings surprised even me: it's the difference between a cup of insipid Maxwell House java, and a full-bodied brew of authentic espresso made from real Italian-roasted beans. The latter definitely satisfies a whole lot more. I find that Kissin, for all his technical perfection, lacks a certain maturity and understanding, a je ne sais quoi, in his playing. Don't believe me? Listen to it for yourself if you ever get the chance. Even disinterested listeners agreed with me on that one. So you see, I'm not entirely biased in my assessment here.)
Intentional or not, a common theme appears to unify the selections in this disc--the world of fantasy and imagination, both the pleasant (as in Schumann's Fantasiestücke, miniatures on flight, whimsy, diurnal and nocturnal dreams and visions) and the gothic and ghastly (Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit, a piano suite for Aloysius Bertrand's 1836 tryptich of poems that speaks of spirits, ghosts, goblins, and a hanged man), as well as the Impressionistic (Ravel's Sonatine).
Fantasiestücke by Robert Schumann.
In Schumann's Fantasiestücke ("Fantasy Pieces"), Martha plays tenderly, flowingly and dreamily in Des Abends (Evening) and Warum (Why?), with the questioning motif in the latter a study in poignancy. The contrast between the percussive and rumbling sections in Aufschwung (Soaring) is deeply satisfying, the momentum building to a wonderfully cathartic climax. Love the rapid, "ripped" notes that start at 1' 13". Her accelerating, "springy" chords in Grillen (Whims) suggest a spirit of fun and lightheartedness. She thunders ominously in In der Nacht (In the Night) like an approaching storm, giving a hint of what dangers lie ahead. There are the delightfully whimsical passages in Fabel (Fable) that alternate with slow, lazy ones. Traumes Wirren (Dream Visions) achieves a wonderful vivacity with her quickly dispatched series of notes. Finally, without taking itself much too seriously, the major chords of Ende vom Lied (Epilogue) announce the finale with a majestic authority, ending quietly in an echoing decelerando that speaks of a well-deserved rest.
To be sure, her Schumann may strike some as too rushed for their tastes, with the anticipated subtle, romantic nuances flung out the window. Heck, I, for one thoroughly enjoy this fantastic flight of musical adventure with Martha at the controls. Rushed or not, it's a reading you'll find hard to ignore.
Sonatine by Maurice Ravel.
In contrast to the Fantasiestücke, Ravel's Sonatine evokes a flowing, liquid movement, and one suspects that the score has musical staffs filled with dense forests of miniature notes. The Sonatine has a cooler, more subdued feel that contrasts with the previous selection. Martha's touch here is perfect, and the gentle, bell-like clarity of the Modéré and the Mouvement de menuet has a quiet elegance, while the Animé is one long, breathless run filled with rippling notes veiled in an aura of mystery. Ravishingly good, I must say.
Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel.
As mentioned earlier, Ravel was inspired to write this after reading the poem triplet of Aloysius Bertrand, which derived much from medieval romance and mystery. Phantasmagorical and macabre sum up the mood and atmosphere of the work. Gaspard is supposed to represent the Satanic One himself.
Ondine has lots of flowing and cascading notes melded together via the sustaining pedal, conjuring up images of water in a dark, mysterious forest. The original poem describes Ondine as a teasing and seductive water nymph.
The creepy and sad Le Gibet (The Gallows) follows. Repeated incessantly in the background is a single note (B flat) played twice in succession, the first slightly louder than the second, suggesting the tolling of a bell in the distance. Meanwhile, a hanged man's lifeless body slowly swings back and forth like a pendulum in the cold night wind, as little insects and animals crawl and scurry here and there—quite unpleasant, morbid images. Martha maintains the constant, insistent tolling of the bell-notes admirably, a feat that demands exceptional control.
I find Scarbo to be the most frightening of the lot. It's also reputed to be one of the most challenging pieces that even advanced piano students will ever play. Martha first evokes the eerie atmosphere heavy with suspense, and soon you're jolted out of your chair with the sudden paroxysms of chords that leap out at you like so many evil, grinning jack-in-the-boxes. A tremendous store of stamina and skill are needed to successfully render the feverish, throbbing chord repeats that simulate Scarbo's (a demonic gnome) game of frighten-the-poet. It's a remarkably sinister bit of music brought to vivid life by Martha's virtuosity.
Hers is perhaps the fastest version of Gaspard out there, clocking in at a mere 18' 08". It is also the piece that makes up part of the Argerich legend (true, though): her mentor Friedrich Gulda gave her five days to study Gaspard de la Nuit (and Schumann's Abegg Variations as well), and like a good student, Martha did as she was told, learning both by heart in those few days. Through interviews, she has confessed that she simply didn't know that these works were supposed to be difficult!
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I happen to like Martha's piano here, with its mellower treble section without the tinny sound that can get too bright and metallic at times. Her wise use of the sustaining pedal hints at precious lessons to be learned by this here struggling amateur.
The recording itself is very good despite its age, with a nice clarity to the sound of struck piano strings. Distracting noises from the audience (e.g., coughing) are kept to a satisfactory minimum and become audible mostly in the quieter passages. You'll be so caught up in the music, these won't even matter.
If you've grown weary of the usual, by-the-numbers playing of classical works, you may want to give this terrific disc a try. Even if you've never heard of the pieces before (as I hadn't when I got it), you should be warned that Martha Argerich's astonishing performances may just seduce you into liking the whole lot. For the curious non-classical music listener, this disc might even open the door to the classical world a crack and jump-start your search for other works in the genre...hopefully. Most assuredly a five-star disc (out of five).
