Rudolf Serkin

Here we have all of the solo and concerted stereo Beethoven repertoire featuring Rudolf Serkin released by Sony Classical, gathered together in an 11-disc budget boxed set. It does not include mono Beethoven items that Serkin remade in stereo. However, Serkin's great mono-only Diabelli Variations is present, along with alternative live Marlboro Festival recordings of the Fourth concerto and the Choral Fantasy, plus two stereo versions of the Op. 110 sonata (one from 1971, the other a posthumously released 1960 recording).

This new recording of…the great D minor, K466, made last November with the LSO under Abbado, is immensely welcome. The old magic is still there: the ability to make every semiquaver in a run count: the way he can invest even quite 'innocent' music…with real meaning and character; the pathos and lyricism he brings to the slow movements; and the tension and drama he reveals in the outer movements of K466.

What always shone through Serkin's playing was its unvarnished honesty, its refusal to do anything for effect or to ingratiate itself. Sometimes that makes for uncomfortable results – Serkin often seems to be in mortal combat with what he was playing – but his finest performances, as in the late sonatas (Opp 109, 110 and 111) here, were unique.

Though Serkin isn`t concertizing a great deal these days, he remains a fascinating pianist on disc. Some listeners (this one included) find Serkin`s playing occasionally too pointed and harsh. Yet for those who tire of the delicate, jewel-box Mozart that is fashionable among pianists today, Serkin surely represents a compelling alternative. His performances of the Concertos Nos. 15 (K. 450 in B-flat Major) and 22 (K. 482 in E-flat Major) are expansive, thoughtful and pleasantly unhurried. In slow movements, he`s never less than thoughtful, creating some exquisite pianissimos in the process. Abbado is ever the sensitive accompanist.

The partnership of Serkin and Abbado in Mozart is a fascinating one. They are such different musical personalities, yet they work remarkably well together, so that each performance becomes an artistic amalgam of two quite different artistic approaches. Abbado matches a natural spontaneous warmth (listen to the beguiling way the orchestra shapes the secondary theme in the first movement of the A major Concerto) with the utmost refinement of detail; whereas Serkin, patrician, authoritative, strong, is more selfconsciously expressive when he deviates from a strictly rhythmic presentation of the melodic line in the same movement.

Deux femmes et deux hommes : la parité est respectée pour ces quatre sonates à titre de Beethoven.

Pablo Casals was once the greatest living cellist. His technique was formidable, his tone was magisterial, and his interpretations were sovereign. In the '20s and '30s, Casals was a charismatic virtuoso on the same level as Kreisler and Horowitz. Those days were over by the time he recorded Beethoven's works for cello and piano with the superb Rudolf Serkin in 1954. His formidable technique had irrevocably decayed: in the fast passages and movements, Casals could barely keep up and he dropped notes like a tree drops leaves in a late autumn rain. His magisterial tone has deteriorated: in the slow passages and movements, Casals groaned and growled like boughs and branches in a hard autumn wind.

Pablo Casals was once the greatest living cellist. His technique was formidable, his tone was magisterial, and his interpretations were sovereign. In the '20s and '30s, Casals was a charismatic virtuoso on the same level as Kreisler and Horowitz. Those days were over by the time he recorded Beethoven's works for cello and piano with the superb Rudolf Serkin in 1954. His formidable technique had irrevocably decayed: in the fast passages and movements, Casals could barely keep up and he dropped notes like a tree drops leaves in a late autumn rain. His magisterial tone has deteriorated: in the slow passages and movements, Casals groaned and growled like boughs and branches in a hard autumn wind.

Pablo Casals was once the greatest living cellist. His technique was formidable, his tone was magisterial, and his interpretations were sovereign. In the '20s and '30s, Casals was a charismatic virtuoso on the same level as Kreisler and Horowitz. Those days were over by the time he recorded Beethoven's works for cello and piano with the superb Rudolf Serkin in 1954. His formidable technique had irrevocably decayed: in the fast passages and movements, Casals could barely keep up and he dropped notes like a tree drops leaves in a late autumn rain. His magisterial tone has deteriorated: in the slow passages and movements, Casals groaned and growled like boughs and branches in a hard autumn wind.