Busoni: Piano Music, volume 2
Wolf Harden, piano.
Naxos 8.555699. Recorded at St. Martin’s Church. Compact disc, 68:55.
Busoni remains one of those composers—how to put this?—perpetually on the verge of a breakthrough that never quite arrives. Italian father, German-ancestry mother, a life spent mostly in Germany: the man belonged everywhere and nowhere, which gave both musical cultures a convenient excuse to leave him to the other. We’ve moved past the Bach-Busoni image, at least in theory. But here’s the rub: on this second volume of piano music, it’s precisely the Bach-Busoni Chaconne that stands the best chance of actual interpretation.
The irony cuts deep, particularly since everything else here predates his twentieth birthday.
Wolf Harden approaches the Chaconne with initial caution—both he and Busoni seem to be feeling their way through the opening pages. Standard transcription techniques, the pianist treating it rather like “real” Bach in modern dress. Then something happens. Around five minutes in, Busoni’s invention catches fire, creating a striking array of Romantic sonorities that occasionally verge toward Debussy (how much of the Frenchman’s music had he encountered in 1892?). Harden responds in kind, suddenly playing with both command and genuine conviction. I worried at first about bass-heaviness—pianist, instrument, St. Martin’s Church acoustics, or the recording itself?—but the impression dissolved as I continued listening. Rich without being overbearing.
The Étude en forme de variations begins nondescriptly enough. Nine minutes, though, and unexpected poetic depths emerge: out-of-phase Brahms, harmonies suggesting overcast skies, moments of genuine surprise. Again, Harden gains strength as the music unfolds.
Richard Whitehouse’s notes mention the humor in the “Kommt ein Vogel geflogen” Variations. It eluded me entirely. But later variations fascinated nonetheless—Busoni’s mind working in unexpected directions, even when the joke doesn’t land.
The C Major Variations and Inno Variations date from 1873 and 1874, respectively. Very early indeed. They remain fairly trite in their material, though the boy’s command of the piano was already remarkable. Precocity isn’t the same as depth.
Which brings us to the Chopin Variations—a pianistic feat for both composer and performer, commandingly brought off by Harden. Will they enter the standard repertoire? I doubt it. The early variations feel gratuitous, elaborations on music already complete. Once Busoni leaves Chopin’s familiar contours behind, it becomes easier to follow him on his own terms. Poetic moments emerge, particularly when the Bach-Busoni aesthetic hovers nearby. But banal stretches appear too, and in one variation I could swear “Mary Had a Little Lamb” wasn’t far away.
This disc interests without quite convincing. If Busoni eventually claims his place in the standard repertoire—still an open question—it won’t be through these pieces. But Harden’s dedicated performances and the disc’s rich sonority make a case for following this Naxos series through, disc by disc. At this price point, why not make up your own mind about this important, controversial, perpetually elusive composer?
The jury, after all these years, remains out.
