Bartok Plays Bartok

Béla Bartók - Bartók Plays Bartók, Bartók At The Piano 1929-1941 (1995) {Pearl GEMM CD 9166}
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© 1929-41, 1991 Pearl ‎| GEMM CD 9166
Classical / Early 20th Century / Modern / Piano

Hungarian composer Bela Bartok (born in Romania) was an innovative composer in his day and along with Gyorgy Ligeti is highly regarded as one of the greatest composers to come out of Hungary in the 20th century. While a majority of Bartok's works are timeless classics in modern Classical repertoire, recordings are Bartok performing his own music are extremely rare to find these days. This is what makes the "Bartok Plays Bartok" disc from Pearl Records such a treat to listen to. The recordings on this disc date from between 1929 and 1941 and display Bartok's gifts as a solid pianist in their fullest. His pianistic attack and full command of the instrument comes through in every piece included here.

This is quite simply one of the most important and consistently superbly executed recording projects of all time. Bartók's piano music isn't exactly overrepresented on disc, being as it is without doubt one of the most important piano oeuvres ever composed, and in the hand of Zoltán Kocsis, doubtlessly one of the greatest pianists alive today, one should expect some superb discs where the works at long last receive the treatment they deserve. In fact, the actual result surpasses any possible expectations.

Few musicians were more significantly linked with a single composer than the late Hungarian-American pianist György Sándor with his teacher Béla Bartók. The authoritative recordings of Bartóks music that Sándor made for American Columbia between 1945 and 1955 and decades later for Sony Classical during his golden years. It also contains his justly famed interpretations of composers ranging from Bach to Rachmaninoff.

Isabelle Faust plays Bartok like a wonder-struck explorer confronting new terrains. She wrestles triumphantly with the First Violin Sonata's knotty solo writing, reduces her tone to a whisper for the more mysterious passages, employs a wide range of tonal colours and trans forms the finale's opening bars into a fearless war dance. This is cerebral music with a heart of fire and will brook no interpretative compromises: you either take it on its own terms, or opt for something milder.

There are several reasons to own this Vox Box 2CD set. For the first, it includes five great violin concertos in some of the very best performances in their discography. For the second, Ivry Gitlis (born 1922) is a great living violinist and these recordings made in early 1950s show his art in the best way, when Ivry's violin sounded powerful and brilliant.

First there was rhythm - pulsing, driving, primal rhythm. And a new word in musical terminology: Barbaro. As with sticks on skins, so with hammers on strings. The piano as one of the percussion family, the piano among the percussion family. The first and second concertos were written to be performed that way. But the rhythm had shape and direction, myriad accents, myriad subtleties. An informed primitivism. A Baroque primitivism. Then came the folkloric inflections chipped from the music of time: the crude and misshapen suddenly finding a singing voice. Like the simple melody - perhaps a childhood recollection - that emerges from the dogged rhythm of the First Concerto's second movement. András Schiff plays it like a defining moment - the piano reinvented as a singing instrument. His "parlando" (conversational) style is very much in Bartók's own image. But it's the balance here between the honed and unhoned, the brawn and beauty, the elegance and wit of this astonishing music that make these readings special.

Three concertos, three orchestras, three soloists, one conductor–an interesting concept, and it works. These are very fine performances by any standard. The First Concerto at first seems not to have quite as much rhythmic heft as say, Kocsis or Ashkenazy, but a glance at the score reveals Pierre Boulez and Krystian Zimerman to be exceptionally attentive to Bartók’s dynamic markings. The first fortissimo arrives five bars after figure 11, exactly as written, but it would be a mistake to typify this reading in any way as soft-edged. Bartók himself, as a pianist, was noteworthy for stressing his music’s lyricism and folk-orientation. So does Zimerman, and the combination of this quality with Boulez’s typical clarity makes for an unusually probing reading.

For her third album on Alpha, Patricia Kopatchinskaja is joined by a highly talented pianist whose approach to music is as extremist as hers, Polina Leschenko. Together they explore pieces that have many points in common. The Hungarian violinist Jelly dAranyi, grandniece of Joseph Joachim, was a muse to both Bartok and Ravel. In 1922 and 1923, she premiered the two Bartok sonatas for violin and piano and Ravel dedicated Tzigane to her. He wrote to Bartok: You have convinced me to compose for our friend, who plays so fluently, a little piece whose diabolical difficulty will bring to life the Hungary of my dreams; and since it will be for violin, why dont we call it Tzigane? Of course, Tzigane by Patricia Kopatchinskaja, who has been playing and dancing this music since her childhood in Moldova, does not sound like salon music . . .