courtesy of Naxos of America
The remaining two of the five albums of Stuttgart performances by the Austrian pianist and composer Friedrich Gulda were released on the SWR>>music label a little less than two weeks ago. The first of these consists of major undertakings at two studio sessions, the first on April 11, 1953 and the second on November 6, 1968. Ironically, Amazon.com has created a Web page for the physical release of this album, claiming that the time of delivery “Usually ships within 3 to 5 days.” I must confess that I feel a bit skeptical about availability of this item on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, so I continue to prefer the downloading option. Since Amazon does not seem to have a Web page for this, I once again advocate downloading from a Presto Classical Web page.
Each of the two CDs in this release is devoted to a major technically challenging work, each by a different composer. The first CD presents a complete traversal of Frédéric Chopin’s Opus 28 collection of 24 preludes covering all of the major and minor keys. The second CD presents Ludwig van Beethoven’s last major composition for solo piano, the Opus 120 set of 33 variations on a waltz presented to him by Anton Diabelli. (This work was completed in 1823 and was followed in 1824 by the last set of bagatelles, the six in Opus 126.) By way of an “overture” to the Diabelli variations, Gulda plays the WoO 80 set of 33 variations on an original theme in C minor. Both of these compositions involve thematic material on a miniaturist scale.
I have never been much of a fan of recital performances that include a start-to-finish traversal of the Chopin preludes. A recording, on the other hand, has at least the potential to serve as a useful “reference document.” From that point of view, Gulda’s account is a valuable item. While each of the preludes is relatively short in duration (all of the tracks are less than five minutes), Gulda presents each one of them as a rhetorical journey in miniature. As a result, these performances reinforce the proposition that each prelude is more than just a challenge in keyboard dexterity. Each presents its own expressive journey, and it is listening to each of those journeys that makes Gulda’s recording a valuable one.
On the other hand both Opus 120 and WoO 80 make a clear case for the proposition that, whatever physical pains Beethoven had to endure towards the end of this life, his sense of humor was as keen as ever. Readers may recall the impact on my own approach to listening that arose when András Schiff performed Johann Sebastian Bach’s BWV 988 “Goldberg” variations, providing notes for the program book that approached the entire composition as a journey for both performer and listener. BWV 988 was the first half of a recital Schiff gave in Davies Symphony Hall; and the second half was devoted entirely to Beethoven’s Opus 120, suggesting that this was as much of a journey as BWV 988 had been. In both of those performances, one could count on wit as a key device in advancing the progress of that journey.
In that context I would say that Gulda’s Opus 120 is highly satisfying, often playing with a bit of suspense in teasing the attentive listener over what will next happen. In that framework one might almost view WoO 80 as a “warm-up” for Opus 120. The suspense can also be found in WoO 80; but, because both theme and variations are almost microscopic in scale, both performer and listener progress through the composition at a breakneck pace. Having completed the 32 variations in WoO 80 in a little over eight minutes, the listener can settle into Opus 120, prepared to relish its many tropes with a more “conditioned” ear.
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