Icac 克劳迪奥·阿劳 Claudio Arrau

Claudio Arrau recorded these concertos twice for Philips, the present performances in 1963, and then again in 1980 with Colin Davis and the Boston Symphony. There's very little to choose between them. Tempos are almost identical, and contrary to what one might expect, the slow movement of the Schumann concerto is actually a bit faster in the later version. Arrau's way with the music is wholly characteristic of the man: serious, even reverential (at the beginning of the Schumann), and played with drop-dead gorgeous tone. The result enhances the stature of both works, but the Grieg in particular. The climax of the finale has an epic grandeur without a hint of bombast that you simply won't find in any other performance. Dohnányi's accompaniments are also distinguished: he lets Arrau lead but isn't afraid to permit the orchestra to assert itself where necessary; and of course the playing of the Concertgebouw is top-notch. If you haven't heard Arrau in this music, it really doesn't matter which of his recordings you wind up with, but do try to get at least one of them.

Although Claudio Arrau had impressive credentials as a Liszt player - his only teacher was Martin Krause, who was a student of Liszt - and he performed many of the composer's works early in his career, he neither exploited this association, nor became known as a Liszt specialist. Perhaps this was because Krause warned him not to become a specialist in the music of any one composer, urging him instead to embrace all music. Consequently, the younger Arrau's repertoire was very large; however, as he grew older he concentrated on fewer composers, moving as it were from the universal to the particular applying almost prophetic insight into certain scores, especially those of Beethoven and Liszt.

Deep thought, care and love pervade this newest contribution to Arrau's Schumann cycle, just as they did all the others. The discovery for me was the Blumenstück, which if played at all (it isn't often) so easily emerges like some pretty but pale little drawing-room aquarelle. But not from Arrau. Characteristically, he reads between the lines of every bar, and discovers as much to express as in any of Schumann's wholly introspective pieces. I was amazed at the variety of mood he extracts from the work's not greatly varied figuration throughout the sequence of brief, closely related sections.

The security of Arrau's technique, the continuing fullness of tone and the fine gradations of touch, is nothing less than astonishing. So too is the mature accommodation he has come to with Beethoven's endlessly problematic C minor Concerto. Arrau's earliest recording of the concerto, with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1947, may have been more brilliant (though, from the orchestra's point of view, more slapdash) but this long-pondered, lovingly evolved reading takes us much closer to the idealizing centre of Beethoven's visionary world; and does so, incidentally, in a way that could not be approached in 1000 years by the authenticity merchants with their pygmy instruments and tedious lists of contemporary metronome markings.

This Final Sessions release captures Arrau's tone better than any CD album I have heard. From the intial English Suites, all four of which were recorded during Arrau's Debussy sessions in Switzerland. The Beethoven is from Arrau's final Beethoven cycle, left incomplete at the time of his death and vary somewhat from his 60's set containig the concerto's and variations. The Schubert is wonderful. I can imagine a better vehicle for Arrau's wonderful sound and legato than D894. The Debussy, attainable only on Warner France, is also very incitful. Arrau does not subscribe to the Gieseking haze, but rather combines a germanic profundity with Michelangli's precision.
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”… However, not only is Davis more in sympathy with Arrau's majestic approach, he's got the incomparable Staatskapelle Dresden backing him up. The result is a Fourth Concerto for the ages: just listen to Arrau's silky-toned opening, the soft hush of the violin section's entrance leading up to the thrilling subsequent crescendo. And the slow movement! Words can't do it justice, nor can they capture the finale's wonderful sense of vigor within repose.”

Though it`s hardly uncommon for a musician to be performing and recording at age 85, it`s difficult to think of many octogenarian performers who continue to explore new paths. Arrau is the wonderful exception, as his current Beethoven cycle for Philips has indicated time and again. This recording of the first two piano concertos offers further proof, for here Arrau turns in performances that force us to reconsider these works. We may be accustomed to hearing the First Concerto played with lightness and Mozartean elegance, but Arrau goes well beyond this cliche. His account of the first movement has a depth and mystery it is rarely accorded.

Arrau's "Emperor" reveals more angst in the first movement development than most other performances, giving the whole work an added depth of feeling. Some listeners may prefer greater general liveliness, especially in the finale, but I find the approach wholly convincing in scale and so beautifully executed as to silence criticism. Technically speaking, these performances always sounded marvelous, and they still do. Unforgettably grand.