Composer: Sergei Rachmaninov
Works: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18; Prelude in G sharp minor, Op. 32 No. 12; Etudes-tableaux, Op. 33 – No. 1 in F minor, No. 2 in C, No. 9 in C sharp minor; Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op. 42
Performers: Hélène Grimaud (piano), Philharmonia Orchestra/Vladimir Ashkenazy
Recording: Watford Coliseum, September 15th-16th, 2000 (Concerto); Teldec Studios, Berlin, June 3rd-5th, 2000 (Preludes and Etudes-tableaux); January 28th-30th, 2001 (Corelli Variations)
Label: Teldec
Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, a cornerstone of the Romantic piano repertoire, remains a touchstone for both pianists and audiences alike, celebrated for its lush melodies and profound emotional depth. Composed during a tumultuous period in Rachmaninov’s life, this work embodies the duality of despair and hope, a reflection of the composer’s own struggles following the dismal reception of his First Symphony. Grimaud’s interpretation, in collaboration with the Philharmonia Orchestra under the baton of Vladimir Ashkenazy, invites scrutiny, particularly in the context of a legacy that includes iconic interpretations by the likes of Horace Parlan and Van Cliburn.
Grimaud’s performance is marked by a sensitive musicianship that shines through in the second movement, where her delicate touch and nuanced phrasing create a tender dialogue with the orchestra. The interplay here is noteworthy; her ability to weave lyrical lines with the orchestral fabric is commendable. However, the first movement reveals a tendency towards over-articulation, where her desire to highlight certain melodic lines occasionally disrupts the seamless flow that Rachmaninov’s music demands. This is particularly evident during the climactic moments when the piano and orchestra should coalesce into a single, powerful entity, yet instead, the piano’s voice can sound slightly fragmented.
Ashkenazy’s conducting provides a sympathetic backdrop, with the Philharmonia Orchestra delivering their customary silken sound. The recording captures the orchestra’s lush textures brilliantly, particularly the exquisite horn solo that opens the first movement, which is executed with a warmth that complements Grimaud’s playing. The engineering is robust, allowing for a clear delineation of orchestral parts against the piano’s rich sonorities. Nonetheless, Grimaud’s slightly dry approach to the Prelude in G sharp minor, Op. 32 No. 12, feels stark; her use of pedal could have enhanced the evocative qualities of this piece, which yearns for a more atmospheric interpretation.
Turning to the Etudes-tableaux, Grimaud emerges with greater confidence, particularly in the fierce opening of No. 1 in F minor, where she captures the tumultuous spirit of the piece. Yet, as with the concerto, her performances of the Variations on a Theme of Corelli feel somewhat surface-level. While each variation is delineated with clarity, there is a missed opportunity to delve deeper into the contrasting emotional landscapes that Rachmaninov conjures. A more daring exploration of the sonorities in this work, which contrasts significantly with the lush orchestration of the concerto, could have revealed a richer tapestry of sound.
Grimaud’s overall interpretation stands as a testament to her technical prowess and artistry. Yet, the absence of a deeper interpretative layer, especially in the core works, raises questions about the choices she makes. Compared to the recent BBC Legends Moiseiwitsch disc, where authority and grasp are palpable, Grimaud’s performance, despite its many strengths, occasionally feels as if it hovers just above the surface of Rachmaninov’s profound emotional depths.
This recording, while not without its merits, ultimately leaves one yearning for a more profound engagement with the music. Grimaud presents a thoughtful and well-executed interpretation, yet it is perhaps the more daring and nuanced performances of Rachmaninov’s works that provide the true emotional resonance this composer demands.
