# Yassa’s Beethoven: Control, Elegance, and the Question of Fire
LISZT Six Lieder von Goethe
BEETHOVEN Sonata in C, Op. 53 (Waldstein)
BEETHOVEN Sonata in F minor, Op. 57 (Appassionata)
Ramzi Yassa (piano)
Rec. 1990s? (DDD)
PAVANE ADW 7304 [65:49]
Ramzi Yassa plays with the kind of technical assurance that makes you stop worrying about wrong notes and start listening to what a pianist actually has to say. This Egyptian-born artist—who has worked with Groves and Mehta, no mean credential—brings to this Pavane disc a cultivated intelligence and a radiant sound. But intelligence and beauty aren’t always enough when Beethoven is in one of his moods.
The Waldstein receives what I can only call exemplary treatment, at least on paper. Yassa observes every dynamic marking, every sforzando lands where Beethoven put it, and the fingerwork in those notorious broken-chord passages (bars 120–141 in the first movement, for instance) dazzles without strain. He takes the first-movement repeat, thank heavens. The B-flat modulation sings. From bar 180 onward, those shifting harmonies—Beethoven at his most subtly destabilizing—emerge with gorgeous clarity.
Yet something nags. The marking reads "Allegro" con brio, and while there’s plenty of "allegro" here, the brio feels… well, rationed. I wanted more recklessness in those fortissimo left-hand A-major chords at bar 62, more sense that the music might escape its maker’s control. Instead we get control itself—admirable, perhaps even noble, but not quite Beethovenian in its refusal to court danger.
The unauthorized rallentandos before the chorale theme (bar 195) puzzle me. Why linger there? And again before bar 235—what purpose? Yet other tempo modifications work beautifully: that hesitation at the end of bar 292, the held breath before excitement breaks forth, feels absolutely right. It’s as if Yassa knows intellectually what Beethoven wants but hasn’t quite trusted his own instincts enough to be inconsistent about it.
The Introduzione—those twenty-eight bars of harmonic wandering (F, E, E minor, B, D minor) before the "finale" proper—receives sensitive handling. That theme beginning at the end of bar 9, never developed, never returning, hangs in the air like an unanswered question. Yassa’s long fermata at the end genuinely makes you wait for what comes next. The "rondo" itself unfolds with delicacy, introspection, fluid cross-hand passages that sound effortless even when they’re not. Bar 115’s restatement of the theme is simply lovely—yes, I used that word about Beethoven, and I meant it.
The off-beat passage from bar 239 tells gloriously. The broken chords from bars 251–312 may be mere note-spinning (even Beethoven nods), but the fingerwork remains outstanding. The passage from bar 349 demands nerves of steel; lose concentration and you’re finished. Yassa doesn’t lose concentration. The prestissimo coda keeps its cool head even when Beethoven seems to be losing his.
Now the Appassionata—here’s where things get complicated.
This is Beethoven’s soul laid bare, possibly unintentionally so. Was the Viennese friend’s wife who sight-read the rain-dampened manuscript the Immortal Beloved? We’ll never know, but the music itself suggests someone struggling with feelings too commanding to contain. The first minute alone contains enough drama for an hour-long symphony. Those single-note dialogues—one note in each hand—suggest two people, only two, engaged in some tortured exchange.
Yassa’s admirable control may not quite suit Beethoven’s temper here. The composer is agitated, reluctant to settle down, turning over in his mind what sounds like a soliloquy of desire, hope, anger, anticipated success. This is a man—a deaf man, a bachelor, but a man nonetheless—experiencing the full force of human passion. The music knows it even if we sometimes forget.
The "finale", though—here Yassa triumphs. This tour de force, one of Beethoven’s most exciting piano pieces, receives playing that held me spellbound. The disc is worth acquiring for this movement alone. The technical command, the architectural grasp, the sheer electricity of the coda—this is pianism of a high order.
The Liszt songs—transcriptions of Goethe settings—are gems, sensitive and beautifully rendered. Anyone who can play Liszt (the greatest writer for the piano of all time, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise) with such perfection must be a great pianist. Period.
So where does this leave us? With a album that shows considerable artistry, technical mastery, and musical intelligence, but perhaps not quite enough abandon. Yassa plays Beethoven as if the composer were a civilized man. Sometimes he was. Sometimes—especially in the Appassionata‘s outer movements—he wasn’t. The "finale" alone justifies the purchase, and the Waldstein offers much to admire. But I found myself wanting more risk, more of what makes live interpretation live.
We need to hear more from Ramzi Yassa. Next time, perhaps, with the safety net removed.
