Alicia de Larrocha, piano. EMI Classics CMS 7 64504-2—2 CDs.
Isaac Albéniz spent the final years of his life creating Iberia, a cycle of twelve pieces that transformed memories of Spain into some of the most intricate and original piano music of the early twentieth century. Its difficulties are formidable, but virtuosity is only the beginning. The pianist must suggest guitars, dancers, bells, street songs and festival processions while keeping Albéniz’s dense textures transparent. Few musicians have understood that world as naturally as Alicia de Larrocha.
De Larrocha recorded Iberia several times. This EMI edition preserves the version made for Hispavox in Madrid in October 1962, when she was thirty-nine and playing with an exhilarating mixture of confidence, spontaneity and youthful daring. Her later Decca recording is more spacious and sonically impressive, but it does not quite reproduce the nervous vitality heard here.
“Evocación” immediately establishes the character of the performance. De Larrocha allows its opening to emerge as a distant memory, but she resists turning it into an impressionistic haze. Rhythms remain quietly alive beneath the surface, and the music gradually acquires shape and direction. “El puerto” is light, pointed and buoyant, while “El Corpus en Sevilla” grows from ceremonial procession into an overwhelming explosion of bells, song and religious fervor.
Her command of Albéniz’s color is remarkable. In “Rondeña” and “Almería,” she differentiates the many internal voices without disrupting the music’s flow. “Triana” dances with extraordinary freedom. The accents have genuine bite, but the performance never becomes a display of generalized Spanish excitement. Every rhythmic turn sounds specific and inevitable.
“El Albaicín” is among the set’s high points. De Larrocha brings out the opposition between the brooding opening material and the more lyrical answering phrases, suggesting flamenco without reducing Albéniz’s sophisticated writing to imitation guitar music. “El Polo” is dark and obsessive, while “Lavapiés,” one of the suite’s most technically treacherous pieces, becomes a teeming Madrid street scene. Its cross-rhythms and crowded textures remain astonishingly clear.
The final book contains some of de Larrocha’s boldest playing. “Málaga” has grace without prettiness, and “Jerez” unfolds with an improvisatory freedom that disguises its structural complexity. “Eritaña” brings the cycle to a dazzling conclusion. De Larrocha pushes the music hard, but her control never falters; the performance has the exhilaration of a live occasion.
The second disc continues with Navarra, completed after Albéniz’s death by Déodat de Séverac. De Larrocha gives its repeated dance rhythms a seductive ease while making light of the dense piano writing. The remainder of the collection draws upon earlier Hispavox recordings. Five selections from the Suite española—“Granada,” “Cataluña,” “Sevilla,” “Cádiz” and “Aragón”—show Albéniz in a more direct and immediately picturesque style.
Four shorter pieces complete the program. The Pavana-Capricho is elegant and lightly inflected; the famous “Tango” is played with affectionate restraint; and “Rumores de la caleta” and “Puerta de Tierra” receive performances full of rhythmic character. Listeners should note that this set contains only five of the eight pieces commonly included in the complete Suite española: “Asturias,” “Cuba” and “Castilla” are absent.
The analogue recording inevitably shows its age. The piano can sound slightly close and hard at climaxes, and it lacks the tonal richness of de Larrocha’s later Decca version. Yet the remastering preserves a surprising amount of detail, and the comparatively dry acoustic often helps clarify Albéniz’s elaborate textures.
What makes this set indispensable is not its sound but its sense of risk. De Larrocha plays as though the music is being discovered in the moment. Her rhythms breathe, her colors change constantly, and even the most difficult passages retain an air of improvisation. Technical mastery is everywhere, but it is always placed at the service of character and atmosphere.
Verdict: One of the great recordings of Iberia. De Larrocha’s later Decca account offers fuller digital sound and greater refinement, but this fiery 1962 interpretation has an immediacy and volatility that make it uniquely compelling.
