Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli - Beethoven, Schubert And Brahms [1981] [DVD]

This recital from 1981 consists of Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms. I have always had the feeling that Michelangeli understood Beethoven and Mozart intellectually more than by the kind of instinct he showed for Chopin, Liszt, Debussy and Ravel. There is any amount of true insight and discernment in his Beethoven, but never the sense of revelation that I get from, say, Serkin. When it comes to Schubert there is nothing else to go on besides the one sonata here; and as regards Brahms the only other piece M left us is his astounding Paganini variations. The five works here are all early productions by their respective composers - of the five Beethoven sonatas that M ever performed four were from the early period, the Schubert sonata is the first of the three he wrote in A minor, and the Brahms ballades have the opus number 10.

The 61-year-old performer does not look healthy. He smoked like a chimney, and his widow's memoir of him (available on Aura.com in Italian) seems to confirm what a glance at him would suggest, namely that he didn't eat much. The hair behind his rather odd hairline is still luxuriant, and at least he didn't dye it grey at the roots. His manner is grave and abstracted, and he perspired more than his physique might lead us to expect, another point confirmed by Giuliana. He does not sit artificially still, but there is very little body movement beyond tilting his head back now and then, and the facial muscles work compulsively. Most compulsive for me was to watch those mighty fingers. Their movement verges on languid - at one point in the third Brahms ballade there is a succession of descending arpeggios and it was hard to see which fingers had even moved at all. However much his digits have to do, they seem to do it with the utmost economy of effort, and in the most powerful fortissimo the player's hands never rise far above the keyboard. In an interview he gave in 1977 M said that it was all one to him whether an audience was present or not. In fact I more than half believe this. On the one hand Giuliana tells us what agonies he went through prior to a public recital and his unparalleled track-record of cancellations tells its own story; but on the other hand there is a strong sense that the player is alone here with the music. This may be the most consummate technician of the instrument there has ever been, but there is no exhibitionism from him whatsoever.

More than anything else what made M unique was his tone-production, and this recital is an absolutely riveting display of that. He takes a different approach to each of his three composers. In Beethoven, to his credit, he does not try to beautify the characteristically gawky effect of Beethoven's chords. The Schubert sonata is not much later in date, it was written for much the same kind of instrument as Beethoven had, M gives it a big-scale and vigorous reading, but the sound of the chords is different entirely and more euphonious. When it comes to the Brahms ballades, the miracles begin. I have a studio recording that he did, as I do for everything else on this disc, and I have Katchen and Gould by way of comparisons, but I never heard anything like this in my life. M starts as he means to continue with some striking pedalling at the start of the first ballade, and the crescendo at the start of the faster section has to be heard to be believed, rising to an enormous volume but with never a hint of harshness. Throughout all four ballades the variety of tone-colour, never seemingly contrived or unidiomatic, is wondrous. Chopin, where are you now? Eat your heart out, Debussy. This is - Brahms! As with the tone-colour so with the handling of the rhythm and timing, another string of jewels of perfection.

In terms of interpretation, there was never any telling which way Michelangeli might go next. Nor indeed was there any way of predicting what kind of mood he might be in. This recital seems to have caught him at his best. As in his other perfomances of Beethoven's funeral march sonata, M disdains taking the opening variations at different speeds, a practice frowned on by Tovey but carried off with panache by Richter. He starts the march itself with a slightly dry and percussive tone, using a more legato effect when it next comes round, and he is aristocratically restrained over the rumble-flash effects in the trio. In the B flat sonata op 22 the main change I noticed was that he now takes a much more flowing tempo in the adagio, much the way Serkin used to do it. As always with him, all repeats are observed.

He had mystique, and one senses it palpably here. I would say that nothing in this entire recital serves as any kind of benchmark for other interpreters. There are any number of equally 'valid' ways of doing everything here. However music exists only in performance, no interpreter of any consequence takes any hypothetically 'neutral' interpretation, and any great performance of any great music is always partly the interpreter's creation. Of all things on this earth music is the most divine, and the spark from on high can descend on players as well as on composers. What we have here is a phenomenon like no other. I don't propose to submit him to some sordid exercise of rating or comparison, I just doubt that his like will ever be heard again.

Most people agree that Arturo Benedetto Michelangeli (1920-9 June 2004) was one of the giants of recent pianism. I never had the honor of hearing him live, but I've treasured many of his recordings over the years. (I am particularly fond of his recording of the Ravel G Major Piano Concerto, coupled with the Rachmaninoff Fourth Concerto, on EMI.) And I have seen him only once on television--many years ago playing the Beethoven Fourth Concerto with I don't remember whom. (I've never seen the VHS/DVD that features him and Richter; I really need to rectify that ommission.) So, this DVD was a welcome arrival. I certainly was not disappointed with the performances here: Beethoven's Sonata No. 11 in B Flat, Op. 22, and the Sonata No. 12 in A Flat, Op. 26; Schubert's Sonata in A Minor, D. 537 (Op. 164); Brahms's Four Ballades, Op. 10. Indeed, they are immensely enjoyable, and in some cases stupendous.

Michelangeli didn't play all the Beethoven sonatas in his career, at least not in public; in fact, he only played a handful of them. And Opp. 22 and 26 figured large in his recital programs. They are played in reverse order here and I would like to spend a little time on the Op. 26 because I find it so wonderful. From the very beginning of the first movement we know we are in for something special: the sforzato chord at m. 4, for instance, has notable emphasis and slight prolongation on the D flat (which is actually a crushed appoggiatura in an otherwise straightforward A flat chord) that sets the tone for the fairly bold manner of Michelangeli's take on this movement that is so often played as fairly tame, fairly pastoral. (By the way, did you know that Op. 26 is one of only two Beethoven sonatas that do not contain a sonata-allegro movement? This first movement is an andante set of variations the beginning of each of which is here captioned discreetly on-screen.) Variation II is notable for the delicacy of Michelangeli's staccato left-hand octaves; his hand almost never leaves the keyboard and yet there is a lightness that most pianists would obtain only by leaping off the notes in order to put some air between the staccati. Listen to the expertly controlled crescendo at mm. 5-8 of Var. III followed by sforzati in the following main bass notes that exactly match the volume arrived at at the end of the crescendo, while above them the melody's volume has gone back to the original piano. This kind of attention to musical detail is the sort of thing that makes Michelangeli a kind of god to some music-lovers. Well, enough micro-dissection. I simply wanted you to get an idea of the technical aspects of this inspired music-making. One more word about this sonata. Listen to the limpid left hand scales in the second half of the first section of the Scherzo. And then the soft yet resounding chords in the Trio. Holy moley!

Before I make this review much too long for anyone to read, I'll simply comment that I find the Op. 22 slightly less startlingly vivid, but still a cut above most renditions I've heard. It's a difficult sonata to pull off, especially in the second movement whose right hand melody must be simplicity itself as well as agonizingly expressive all the while; Michelangeli manages that, although there is maybe a hint of calculation here. The Schubert A Minor reminds me a good bit of that recorded by Kempff, a pianist I know he admired. However, he begins the sonata with more forcefulness than is usually heard. This soon settles, though, into a rather more thoughtful mood; there seems to be an emphasis on dynamic contrasts throughout his traversal of this work.

He finishes off with the Op. 10 Brahms Ballades. Having played the first one, 'Edward,' in my youth, I was particularly struck by his incredible control of phrasing. This is a rather more controlled reading that one often hears; many pianists really emote (in the worst sense of that word) because of the gruesome subtext of the Ballade. With Michelangeli the emotion builds to the climax and resolution and it feels natural rather than acted.

This is a 1981 live performance before a quiet audience in the auditorium of Radio Televisione Svizzera Di Lingua Italiana (RTSI, the Italian language Swiss radio and television network) in Lugano, Switzerland. There is no footage of Michelangeli entering the stage; it simply opens with him at the piano ready to begin. At the ends of the two halves of the recital he simply gets up and walks away, barely acknowledging the audience. I'm told this was typical of his stage manner, but it is a bit odd appearing to me. The video camera moves rather too much for my taste. I would much rather have spent a great deal more time focused on Michelangeli's hands than his rather tic-ridden facial expressions. And we almost never get to see his pedaling, a real loss because it is one the marvels of his playing. One does gasp at the silkenness and technique of his legato, the stillness of his movements, and the forcefulness of his fortissimi that seem to come out of nowhere--he certainly doesn't telegraph his punches. Still, I suppose all this camera movement has become the norm for televised musical performances and at least it never did quite become frenetic as camerawork so often does these days. The sound is quite good.

I am delighted to have this DVD. It captures both the sound and the physical technique of a pianist I've admired for many years and I'm very happy for that.

Scott Morrison

Finally the chance to watch ABM playing in video. For the many who could not have the chance to listen him in concert, this DVD will be a real revelation.
The program replies a recording made by ABM for DGG in the 80's, with the addition of two Beethoven Sonatas not officially published before on cd.
ABM doesn't need any presentation or comment: any word of comment could be simply unadeguate to his art.
Few words about this Swiss Television production: the sound is clear but not of good quality; the film hesitates too much on Michelangeli's face, better then a simple lateral view of the piano, with his hands and pedals (just compare the wonderful Black&White films of Italian television - Turin 1962): authorisation by ABM to film him could be used much better.
However, in my opinion this DVD should be part of the records collection of every music lover.