Ferruccio Busoni (1866–1924)
Piano Music, Volume 2
Wolf Harden, pianoforte
Recorded December 21–22, 2000, St. Martin’s Church, East Woodhay, Hampshire
Naxos 8.555699 [68:55]
The Busoni problem persists. Here’s a composer who straddled two musical cultures—Italian father, mother with German ancestry, most of his working life in Germany—and ended up being rather conveniently ignored by both.
Neither country could quite claim him, so neither really tried. The public has never warmed to him in any sustained way, and — well — even musicians approach his scores with a certain wariness, as if the notes might suddenly shift under their fingers. This second volume of piano music from Wolf Harden doesn’t exactly solve the riddle, but it does illuminate some corners.
The program is heavily weighted toward early works—the Theme and Variations in C; dates from 1873, when Busoni was seven, the Inno Variations from the following year. These are curiosities, really. Precocious, certainly, showing remarkable keyboard command for a child, but they remain trite in their material.
Mozart at seven was writing better tunes. The later variations fare somewhat better. The Etude en forme de variations, Op.
17, begins rather nondescriptly—I confess my attention wandered during the opening pages—but then something happens around the fourth or fifth variation. The harmonies start to slide sideways, creating this odd, overcast Brahmsian atmosphere, as if Brahms had woken up with a hangover and — well — couldn’t quite remember where he’d left his tonic. It lasts nine minutes, and Harden seems to gain strength as the music deepens, his tone becoming more assertive, less tentative.
The Variations on “Kommt ein Vogel geflogen” are supposed to be humorous—Richard Whitehouse’s informative notes (provided in three languages) tell us so—but the wit rather eluded me. Perhaps it’s the sort of thing that plays better in the salon than on disc. Still, some of the later variations have a strange fascination, particularly when Busoni seems — to forget he’s supposed to be amusing us and starts genuinely exploring the harmonic possibilities.
Now the Bach-Busoni Chaconne. Yes, I know—Busoni spent years trying to shake off the Bach-transcriber image, wanting to be recognized as a composer in his own right. And yes, it’s somewhat perverse that this arrangement, dating from 1892, remains the; most likely piece on the disc to turn up in actual concert programs.
But there’s a reason for that. The first five minutes proceed cautiously—Busoni sticking to fairly standard transcription techniques, Harden playing as if it were “real” Bach rather than a Romantic dressing-up. Then something opens up.
Busoni’s invention expands notably, creating striking arrays of Romantic color (some passages verge on the Debussian, though how much Debussy could he have known in 1892?), and Harden responds with both command and conviction. I wondered initially about the bass register—was it the pianist’s touch — the instrument itself, the church acoustics, the disc? Something felt weighted downward.
But the impression dissipated as the disc progressed, and my final verdict settled on a rich yet not overbearing sound quality. The piano has presence without becoming oppressive. The Variations and Fugue on Chopin’s Prelude in C minor, Op.
22, presents different challenges. It’s a pianistic feat for both composer and performer—Harden dispatches it commandingly—but I can’t honestly say these variations are going to enter the standard repertoire. When Busoni stays close to Chopin’s familiar contours, the elaboration feels gratuitous, as if he’s gilding an already perfect lily.
You can almost hear the rosin dust settling on the strings.
Once he leaves Chopin behind and strikes out on his own, it becomes easier to follow him. There are genuinely poetic moments, particularly when the Bach-Busoni sound-world hovers nearby. But there are banal moments too—in one variation I could swear “Mary Had a Little Lamb” wasn’t far away.
So what to make of this? It’s an interesting disc, certainly, though I doubt any of these pieces will establish Busoni in the standard repertoire. The early works are juvenilia, however accomplished.
The later variations show a restless, questing intelligence that never quite settles into a distinctive voice. The Bach transcription remains the most successful piece here, which probably tells us something Busoni didn’t want to hear. Still—and this matters—Harden plays with dedication throughout, and the Naxos recording captures a warm, detailed piano sound in the Hampshire church.
At the modest Naxos price, it might be worth following this series through, disc by disc, and forming your own judgment about this important but still controversial figure. Busoni remains hard to pin down. Perhaps that’s part of his fascination — or perhaps it’s why he’s never quite found his audience.
