Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
Debussy – Piano Works [TB]
Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, piano
Recorded 1963, Turin (Italian Radio)
Label: Deutsche Grammophon / Apex 0927 40649 2 (reissue 2023)
Duration: 48:13
There’s something both beguiling and slightly maddening about Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s approach to Debussy—this 1963 Italian Radio live recording, now resurfaced, showcases the pianist at his formidable best, yet not without quirks that invite closer scrutiny. The remastering deserves praise: clarity and spatial perspective are improved, though the sound remains unmistakably “historical” — a label that inevitably tempers expectations. But let’s be clear: no one picking up this disc should fret over muffled textures or anemic impact.
The sonorities, rich and resonant, hold court with an unforced authority. Michelangeli’s touch here is the stuff of legend. His control is immaculate, every note articulated with crystalline precision, especially evident in Images, Set I.
“Reflets dans l’eau” shimmers with a liquid transparency that feels almost tactile—the piano’s upper registers glint like sun-dappled ripples, each ripple etched in fine detail. Yet, for all this brilliance, the execution is sometimes curiously monochromatic in dynamic shading. The pianist’s notorious fastidiousness seems to curb any real risk-taking at the softer end.
The subtle gradations of pianissimo, vital in Debussy’s palette, occasionally give way to a more uniform pianissimo—leaning towards the audible rather than the whispered. The second set of Images—particularly “Poissons d’or” and — well — “Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut”—exposes this limitation more starkly. These slow-moving, atmospheric sections ask for that liminal dimension where sound blends into silence, where echoes are felt as much as heard.
Michelangeli’s crystalline clarity here, while impressive, sometimes translates into a certain reticence, a reluctance to surrender fully to the poem’s misty ambiguity. There’s an analytical detachment, a distancing that leaves me wishing for a more intimate embrace of Debussy’s elusive soundworld. Turning to the two extracts from Book II of Préludes, “Canope” and “Bruyères” offer a sonorous, if straightforward, interpretation.
The tonal colors are carefully wrought but lack a bit of the fantastical edge that other pianists—say, Pollini or Brendel—might conjure. Still, Michelangeli’s articulation remains exemplary: phrasing is organic, never mechanical, and the pedal use is judicious, lending just enough blur without sacrificing clarity. A particular highlight is the Children’s Corner, a suite that Michelangeli evidently cherished.
His 1963 broadcast rendition captures a spontaneity that studio recordings sometimes miss. The “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” sways with a playful snap, its rhythmic piquancy perfectly sprung. The gesture is celebratory rather than caricatured, a tribute to Debussy’s subtle wit rather than a mere mimicry of ragtime clichés.
This live energy translates into a compelling narrative arc, from the wide-eyed innocence of “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” to the jaunty "finale". The presentation, alas, offers its own frustrations: the accompanying notes, while well-informed, suffer poor layout and typographical neglect—an irritating distraction in an otherwise valuable release. One hopes future reissues will address this, matching the disc’s sonic and interpretive merits with more thoughtful packaging.
In sum, Michelangeli’s Debussy – Piano Works is a vital document—one that reveals the pianist’s towering artistry but also his occasionally over-fastidious restraint. For those who prize clarity, precision, and intellectual rigor, this album remains a treasure. Yet, for all its virtues, it sometimes lacks the full-bodied sensuality and dynamic breath that Debussy’s piano music demands.
This is not the Debussy of lush impressionism but rather a crystalline, sculpted vision—refined, sometimes austere, always compelling. Highly recommended, but listen closely—and with an ear for what’s there, and what might have been.
