A Beethoven Odyssey, Volume 9

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. 

Beethoven in later life

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.

Rachmaninoff/Gershwin Transcriptions by Earl Wild (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Rachmaninoff: Songs transcribed for the piano by Earl Wild - Dreams Op. 38 No. 5; The Little Island Op. 14 No. 2; Midsummer Nights Op. 14 No. 5; O, Cease Thy Singing Op. 4 No. 4; On the Death of a Linnet Op. 21 No. 8; Do Not Grieve Op. 14 No. 8; George Gershwin: Three Preludes; Earl Wild: Fantasy on Porgy and Bess. John Wilson, piano. AVIE Records AV2635

Sadly enough, Earl Wild (1915-2010) has become somewhat a forgotten figure among followers of classical music. Perhaps Bill Heck and I are a bit more tuned into his name than most, because for many years, Wild resided in Columbus, Ohio, where Bill and I both attended graduate school and where we both live today. In addition, we are both quite fond of his recordings of the Rachmaninoff piano concertos, which he originally made for Reader’s Digest with Jascha Horenstein conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and have subsequently been rereleased on other labels including Chandos and Chesky. Wild was a remarkable virtuoso who was skilled not only as a performer (he was the first American pianist ever to be invited by Arturo Toscanini to perform as soloist with the New York Philharmonic) but also as a transcriber, particularly of the music of Gershwin and Rachmaninoff.  Interestingly enough, accordion to Wikipedia, Wild also holds the distinctions of being both the first pianist ever to perform a recital on U.S. television (1939) and evert to stream a performance on the internet (1997). He is also the only pianist ever to have been invited to the White House to perform before six consecutive U.S. Presidents: Hoover, Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson. What a career! 

On this release from the American pianist John Wilson (not to be confused with the English conductor of the same name), we hear Wild's transcriptions of seven songs by Rachmaninoff, three brief preludes by Gershwin, and then Wild’s own Fantasy on Porgy and Bess. The Rachmaninoff transcriptions are elegant and expressive, richly romantic as you might expect. Wilson clearly loves this music, and that love comes through in his playing, which is clear, confident, and convincing. These are songs, imbued with melody and emotional overtones; however, they are not sappy or sentimental, but are carefully crafted pieces of serious music. The three Gershwin Preludes are in turn bouncy, moodily reflective, and finally a bit skittish. None, however, sound legitimately jazz-like or particularly inspired. At least to my ears, this is not top-drawer Gershwin. YMMV.

The needle on the old Gershwin-O-Meter bounces back up the scale with Wilson’s rendition of Wild’s take on Gershwin, however – the Fantasy on Porgy and Bess is in an entertaining romp through the familiar themes from Gershwin’s tuneful work. You can tell that Wild enjoyed putting these tunes together for the keyboard, and you can tell that Wilson enjoys playing them for us at the keyboard. In the liner notes, which are based on a conversation between Wilson and the English music broadcaster Jeremy Nicholas, Wilson recalls that it was Gershwin’s music that first lured him into classical music. He goes on say, “the first Earl Wild piece I learned was his Porgy and Bess. I just loved it. I’d played most of it since I was 19, so when I came to record it, it was in my heart. I think it’s perhaps his perhaps his best crafted transcription.” 

The liner notes, although not extensive, are heartfelt and revealing. And as we have come to expect from AVIE, the engineering is first-rate, capturing the sound of Wilson’s Steinway in fine fashion. If you are a fan of melody, this release is one that should be right up there on your audition list. 

3 Shades of Blue/Kind of Blue (Book/CD Review)

by Karl Nehring 

Kaplan, Janes. 3 Shades of Blue: Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Bill Evans, and the Lost Empire of Cool. New York: Penguin Press, 2024. 

Miles Davis: Kind of Blue. So What; Freddie Freeloader; Blue in Green; All Blues; Flamenco Sketches. Miles Davis, trumpet; John Coltrane, tenor saxophone; Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, alto saxophone; Wynton Kelly, piano (Blue in Green only); Bill Evans, piano (all other tracks); Paul Chambers, bass; Jimmy Cobb, drums. Columbia/Legacy CK64935

 

In a couple of recent posts I have shared some thoughts by jazz musicians concerning the influence of classical music on jazz (you can find those posts here and here). In his new book, 3 Shades of Blue, James Kaplan tells the interlocking life stories of three key figures in jazz: trumpeter Miles Davis, saxophonist John Coltrane, and pianist Bill Evans. Those with even a passing knowledge of jazz history are no doubt familiar with at least one of those three names, while those with a bit more knowledge will likely recall all three from their appearance on what today is probably the most widely known jazz album in history, Miles Davis’s landmark 1959 recording, Kind of Blue. Of course, all three musicians released other notable albums, such as Davis’s Sketches of Spain, Birth of the Cool, In a Silent Way, and Bitches Brew; Coltrane’s Crescent, Giant Steps, and A Love Supreme; and Evans’s Sunday at the Village Vanguard, Everybody Digs Bill Evans, and Conversations with Myself.

 

Those with an interest in jazz will gain an insight into the musical and biographical influences that contributed to the sound of those and other recordings by not only these three but other jazz luminaries as Kaplan weaves the three biographies into an overview of the development of different forms of jazz such as swing bebop, post-bop, cool jazz, modal jazz, harmolodics, and free jazz. But of special interest to fans of classical music might be to learn that all three of these jazz giants were influenced by classical music. For example, Kaplan writes that one piece that Miles almost became obsessed with was Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s 1957 recording of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G… Miles wanted to put wide-open space into his music the way Ravel did. He wanted to use different scales the way Khachaturian, with his love for Asian music, did… Davis told Evans that the new album he had in mind would make use of some of the Western classical themes they’d analyzed together…”

 

Evans had been classically trained, but ultimately decided that he wanted to become a jazz pianist. He moved to New York, the hub of jazz, determined to try to make the transition. As Kaplan describes his tiny apartment, “on the music stand were pieces by Chopin, Ravel, and Scriabin, as well as Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier. When he practiced he loved to play classical and then modulate into improvised jazz. The tempo turning to idiosyncratic rhythm, the harmonies close cousins to those in the European music.”  (An interesting fact not mentioned in Kaplan’s book is that at some point later in his career, Evans struck up a friendship with the legendary Canadian classical pianist Glenn Gould; in fact, Evans recorded his famous overdubbed solo album Conversations with Myself using Gould’s piano.)

 

As for Coltrane, Kaplan observes that “almost everyone associated with John Coltrane took note of his voracious appetite for learning about music in general and his instrument in particular… Like Charlie Parker, he made a point of learning to play in every key; also like Parker, and like Miles, he listened broadly and deeply, not just to jazz but to the modern Europeans. ‘Trane and I,’ Jimmie Heath recalled, ‘used to go to the Philadelphia Library together and listen to Western classical music – they had the headphones, you know. We would play Stravinsky and people like that and listen to all this music we could.’”

 

There.is of course much, much more to be found in this deeply researched, engagingly written book that lays out the life stories of these three giants of jazz who combined to give us one of the great recordings of the twentieth century. If you are a fan of Kind of Blue, Kaplan’s book will give you an inside look into its creation and creators. But if you are one of the few people who have not by now given a listen to Kind of Blue, you really ought to give it a listen. It is one of those rara albums that most people – even those who profess not to like jazz – seem to be able to enjoy once they give it a listen. It has a gently swinging quality to it that soon will have you bobbing your head or tapping your tors. In fact, chances are good that you have heard some of this music before – So What and All Blues are floating out there in various arrangements all over the place. Like a great recording of a great symphony, Kind of Blue is an album that can be enjoyed over and over again – it always proves to be just as satisfying a musical an emotional experience each time. It truly is a landmark recording well worth seeking out.