PADEREWSKI: His Earliest Recordings, 1911-1912 – Ignace Jan Paderewski, piano
APR 6006, (2 CDs) 69:11; 77:44 [Distrib. by Harmonia mundi] ****:
It was in July 1911 that technicians from The Gramophone Company transported bulky recording equipment to the villa in Morges, Switzerland to capture the art of fifty-year-old Ignace Jan Paderewski (1861-1941), then among the most renowned keyboard artists of his day. Between 1911 and 1912, Paderewski would inscribe 41 pieces of music–all relative miniatures from the works of Chopin, Stojowski, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Schumann, Rubinstein, Debussy, Schubert, and Paderewski himself–without committing to shellac any of the mighty works with which he was associated by their frequent appearance on his program: The Liszt Sonata, the Chopin Ballades, Schumann’s Fantasy and Symphonic Etudes, late Beethoven sonatas, the Brahms Handel and Paganini Variations. Paderewski frankly hated recording; and given his own penchant for stage fright, the uneven sonic results of the early pressings–happily, Paderewski kept eight test pressings that survived– only confounded the felony, so much as Paderewski was concerned.
Recording engineer Seth Winner has utilized the CEDAR process to remove the most obnoxious ticks, pops, surface abrasions without affecting the dominant acoustical signal, virtually a century old. Paderewski favored the Erard Piano, and its peculiar timbre and resonance manage to survive in varying degrees of presence. At their best, the acoustic discs sound as lively as good electrical recordings, and that is saying something. The A Major Polonaise of Chopin, for instance, rings clearly and establishes the nationalist and poet at once. Schubert’s “Hark! Hark! The Lark!” declaims without sentimentality, while Stojowski’s Chant d’amour suffers from poor sound and decidedly sheds a rueful tear. We detect in Paderewski’s technical arsenal a slight anticipation of the right hand in the left, the minute asymmetry adding to the textural piquancy of performance or the inaccuracy, according to a puritan’s lights. Otherwise filler passages often gain a sense of personal momentum and personality, and the rigors of metrical conformity do not bind Paderewski’s palpable adjustment of music to suit his unique personality.
The little Etude in G-flat of Chopin perfectly conveys this point, as sparkling and impish in its way as that of Hofmann. The Chopin Etude in F from Op. 25 struggles a bit, but when it does fly the effect is aerial. The A Minor Mazurka, Op. 17, No. 4 relates a marvelously bitter-sweet canvas, entirely idiomatic, with plastic grace-notes. Sweetly erotic nostalgia informs the Op. 15, No. 1 Nocturne in F, though the middle section offers some dark currents and intimations of muscular power that later technology might have served with more justice. Sensual flirtations mark the F-sharp Nocturne, Op. 15, No. 2, the seduction taking on more passion in its yearning trio. Paderewski’s eternal Minuet in G appears but once, in 1911, and a stately charmer it is, the brisk right hand roulades quite impressive. Paderewski’s Nocturne in B-flat, Op. 16, No. 4 proves a liquid novelty, entertaining a slight Iberian pulse under its melodic tissue, so it might be mistaken for Albeniz. The last cuts on disc 1 derive from 1912 Paris sessions, beginning with an aggressive account of Mendelssohn’s Hunting Song, Op. 19, No. 3. Debussy’s Reflets dans l’eau, a real piece de resistance, moves effortlessly, idiomatically, and might well justify this entire set. Liszt’s La Campanella did not appear in Paderewski’s own lifetime, but we can hear (in two versions) its alternately gentle and demonic bells in uncluttered harmony. Paderewski inscribed his own, virtuosic Cracovienne fantastique twice in 1912, the first “suffering” his accidentally playing one measure twice.
Disc two opens with the Revolutionary Etude in C minor, the bass a veritable tempest, the Appassionata in miniature. The syncope (Etude) in C, Op. 10, No. 7 flutters in gem like convulsions of sound. The Paderewski legato glides along a seamless surface in the Op. 25, No. 1, as it will again in the wrist-virtuosic Liszt Etude in F Minor, “La Leggierezza.” The non-legato F Minor Etude, Op. 25, No. 2 proceeds with no less articulation, reminiscent of Arrau’s EMI inscription over 40 years later. Chopin’s preferred Etude in E emerges from Paderewski in nobly warm, autumnal colors, rife with sincerity. Connoisseurs should relish Paderewski’ Schumann, of which Des Abends –the first of three sections from the Op. 12 Fantasy-Pieces–melts in magic droplets across the screen of time. Aufschwung wants even more sonic fidelity for Paderewski’s powerful piano tone, the muscular, upward movement quite singing in authentic Schumann style, Eusebius in tempo rubato. Warum dreams intimately, the pauses hearkening to eternity. The extrovert Chopin Waltz in A-flat, Op. 34, No. 1 has two recordings, the second explosively much broader, but both brightly lit. Ease, graciousness of phrase, and eminent vocalism for Chopin’s The Maiden’s Wish, the Chant-Polonaise (arr. Liszt) in two lovely versions, one second apart. Emotionally, the most dramatic moment occurs in Chopin’s Etude in C-sharp Minor, Op. 25, No. 7, a veritable tone-poem of tragic loss, displaying at every turn Paderewski’s tensile, lyric sostenuto. More wrist and digital articulation in Chopin’s Berceuse in D-flat, a study in harmonic motion comparable in even pulsation to Solomon’s classic 1932 rendition. Last, Rubinstein’s salon staple Valse-Caprice in E-flat, notable for its breathless posturing and rhetorical bombast, a romantic vehicle par excellence for the pianist who so well defined the era. [Need we add – definitely not for audiophiles! The piano has long been the most difficult instrument to properly record, and 1911…well…good luck…Ed.]
— Gary Lemco
