Schumann

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.

With ‘La Ronde’, Nicholas Angelich pays tribute to the relationships between three of Romanticism’s greatest composers for the piano. Schumann, Chopin and Liszt were born within 18 months of each other and knew each other personally. Schumann dedicated Kreisleriana to Chopin, who dedicated two of his Op.10 Etudes to Liszt, who, closing the circle, dedicated his B minor Piano Sonata to Schumann.

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.

Jennifer Pike, who won the BBC Young Musician of the Year competition at the tender age of 12, appears to have survived the perils of prodigyhood and entered her early twenties with musical intelligence intact. Here she offers a terrific program of music from the middle of the 19th century; all of it is abstract, but it brings vividly to mind the crucial trio of creative figures who met in the early 1850s: the ailing Robert Schumann, his musically frustrated wife Clara, and the young Johannes Brahms, mooning over the latter.

A remarkably intimate recording of Schumann's Cello Concerto in A minor, this performance by Anne Gastinel and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Liège, directed by Louis Langrée, may be a little too forward for the average listener's comfort. Direct Stream Digital engineering places Gastinel front and center – almost in one's living room – and the orchestra is not far behind. Such "living presence" may be an audiophile's delight, but others may find the proximity disconcerting, especially because Gastinel's bowing seems overly resinous up close. However, this is the only complaint worth making about this disc, for Gastinel is wonderfully expressive and the orchestra is extraordinarily balanced and clear in its timbres, no mean achievement in Schumann's problematic, thick orchestration. The remaining performances are less forwardly recorded and sound pleasant and natural, with a fresh spontaneity that feels more like a recital than a studio session.

The first complete Schumann symphony cycle on disc, this set was recorded in Tel Aviv in 1956 by one of the most highly respected conductors of the post-war period. Paul Kletzki (1900-1973) brings out the fundamental strangeness and feverish excitement of Schumann's orchestral writing. His readings of these iconic works are key to understanding the path they have travelled towards the recognition they enjoy today.

Robert Schumann often described the opposing “Florestan” and “Eusebius” facets of his own personality. The contrasts between the mercurial, exuberant Florestan and the more considered and introspective Eusebius comes into sharp focus when you compare these spectacular Chicago performances of Schumann’s Second and Third symphonies under Daniel Barenboim with their more recent Decca counterparts with Christoph von Dohnanyi and the Cleveland Orchestra.

Here’s an unexpected and most welcome entry in Decca’s Legendary Performances series. Clifford Curzon was a card-carrying perfectionist who broached recording with the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the gallows. Yet time has been good to his small discography. You won’t find heartstopping dynamic surges in Curzon’s 1954 Schumann C Major Fantasie, but you’ll hear beautifully proportioned lines that never fail to sing, plus sturdy mono engineering that does full justice to Curzon’s ravishing palette of color and nuance. The pianist’s focused delicacy throughout Kinderszenen contrasts to Gieseking’s cool watercolors and Horowitz’s garish, broad brushstrokes, among notable mono versions.