Robert+schumann

One of the pleasant surprises of the first decade of the twenty first century was the way pianist Angela Hewitt developed from one of the most celebrated of Bach specialists into an all-around first-class performer in a much wider range of repertoire. Take her 2007 disc with Schumann's Humoreske with his Piano Sonata No.1 in F sharp minor. While one might have expected clarity and drive from Hewitt, who had long mastered those qualities in Bach, the evident passion and fantasy reveal new aspects of her playing, especially in her F sharp minor Sonata, which sounds like an ardent musical bildungsroman. Her Humoreske, similarly, has the poetic imagination and the lyrical fervor characteristic of great German romantic poetry. As on her Bach recordings, Hewitt's tone is pearly, her technique formidable, and her interpretations combine thoughtfulness with spontaneity. Recorded by Hyperion with winning warmth and an uncanny sense of immediacy, this disc will delight Hewitt's fans and enlarge Schumann's discography by one excellent disc.

Mark Padmore and fortepianist Kristian Bezuidenhout combine here to perform two of Schumann’s major cycles to words by Heine. They also throw in a selection of five Heine settings by the largely forgotten Franz Lachner (1803-90) from his Sängerfahrt (Singer’s Journey), which include the same text – ‘Im wunderschönen Monat Mai’ – with which Schumann’s Dichterliebe begins.

While Pollini's Schumann is not to everyone's taste – some find his virtuoso playing too cool and his bracing interpretations too intellectual – for those who revere Pollini, his Schumann is a tonic after nearly two centuries of sloppy and sentimental performance practice. Pollini's Davidsbündlertänze may not be as poetic as Arrau's and his Kreisleriana may not be as fantastic as Argerich's, but he finds meanings and significances in the works that no one ever has before. Pollini's Concert sans orchestre and Allegro in B minor are second to none in technical panache and interpretive aplomb. DG's piano sound is as real as playing the piano.

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 highly productive and respected in his lifetime as a composer of Lieder, Robert Franz (1815–92) has since become a peripheral figure in music history. One reason may be that he avoids dramatic contrasts and instead aims at an emotional ambiguity: ‘My representation of joy is always tinged with melancholy, whilst that of suffering is always accompanied by an exquisite sensation of losing oneself’, he once wrote to Liszt. As a consequence his music appeals to those who are able ‘to admire the nuances of a charcoal drawing without longing for the colours of a painting’, to quote from Georges Starobinski’s liner notes to this recording. As they began to explore the songs of Franz, Starobinski and the baritone Christian Immler were moved by their findings to devise a programme which includes 23 of the composer’s often quite brief songs. Using the poet Heinrich Heine as their guiding star, they present these – all Heine settings but from different opus groups – in the form of two ‘imagined’ song cycles.

The three string quartets, Op. 41, of Robert Schumann date from the middle of 1842, the same period when he also composed the Piano Quintet in E flat major, Op. 44, so their inclusion together in this double-disc album from Onyx is appropriate, if slightly curious. While the Piano Quintet is among the most popular pieces in the chamber repertoire, the string quartets have languished in a state of comparative neglect and are relatively under-represented in the catalog. The shadow of Beethoven loomed large over many composers in the 19th century, and the example of his extraordinary late string quartets made successors appear lacking by comparison; this is the most likely explanation for the weak standing of Schumann's Op. 41, and why the Piano Quintet escaped invidious comparisons. Yet these clear-eyed and thoughtful performances by the Gringolts Quartet demonstrate that Schumann's abilities in the string quartet genre were considerable, and they show his careful balancing of the parts and bring out the motivic coherence he derived from Beethoven. The Gringolts are absolutely secure in playing these works, but there is a noticeable burst of energy and enthusiasm that they bring to the Piano Quintet, which is shared by pianist Peter Laul. Onyx provides fairly focused recording of the strings, but the piano recedes into the background, perhaps because of the microphone's placement in the highly resonant church acoustics.