The pairing of two masterful young musicians, pianist Trpceski and conductor Petrenko, has become a high-profile story in their Rachmaninov. They've won ovations at the Proms in London, and their previous Rachmaninov recording, of the Piano Ctos. #2 and #3, was widely acclaimed. I found it a touch sober, going for seriousness rather than dazzle, but this follow-u goes down more easily because it shows off their talents without the reminder of great predecessors. Except for Byron Janis and Michelangeli, few virtuosos have made a hit of either the first or last of the concertos. They appear in complete cycles, but in both cases the lack of Rachmaninov's signature lush melodies is a problem, since the listener must keep up with seemingly endless knuckle-crunching passagework, much of it to no great purpose except as fireworks display.
Let me admit immediately that I cannot follow either work with sustained interest, but I admire Petrenko in particular as one of the outstanding young conductors in the world. Indeed, he and Trpceski set fire to Cto. #1 with gales of stormy passion. In the middle of a thousand cascading notes, the conductor finds a through line in the first movement that (almost) brings coherence. All the externals are in place, too - excellent orchestral work from an orchestra that adores their star conductor, up-to-date recorded sound, and a very good piano. In the Andante, with its long solo passage that takes us into the world of the Etudes-Tableaux, Trpceski balances lyric melancholy with forward movement, never dawdling or indulging in affected hesitations and pauses. The finale, marked Allegro vivace, is meant to be a barn burner, and it's hard to forget Janis's cut-glass brilliance with Reiner on RCA. Trpceski is more sober, never percussive, and a lot less fun in the wild ride department. His more modest rubato also seems a bit dry; this is Rachmaninov, after all, and we expect toffee and Bailey's Irish Cream in our coffee.
In his maturity the composer became a master of handling orchestral color, and there is actually interest in both sides of the Fourth Concerto, soloist and orchestra. The keyboard writing isn't such a waterfall of double-fisted octaves and runs, although the spectacle remains a bit endless. Perhaps the nicest thing in this work, for me at least, is that Rachmaninov gives his melancholy streak full scope. There are no grand tunes, but one feels at home in his bittersweet moods. Petrenko has more to work with here, and he delivers a reading so passionate and thrilling that it could stand on its own if the pianist sneaked out to sign autographs. Michelangeli delivers more spine tingles, but Trpceski, though lacking in that kind of charisma, keeps pace beautifully with Petrenko. He has a winning combination of technique, musicality, and polish. (It's unfair to compare this Rachmaninov fourth to one of the classics of the Gramophone, but anyone coming new to this music really must hear Michelangeli.)
The most popular work on the program, the thrice-familiar Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, is the one place where I feel that over-refinement is a real flaw. Trpceski and Petrenko are strait-laced; they don't seem to be having fun with this brilliant bauble. In her recent recording with Abbado, the whiz kid Yuja Wang was delicate, whimsical, pixie-like, and therefore refreshing. Even better, for its urgency and depth, is the recording by Denis Matsuev with Gergiev. Or one could go far back to William Kapell and his Horowitzian bravura. Prepare to read raves in the British press about the new recording - and it is certainly very appealing - but reports that Trpceski and Petrenko have scaled Everest are exaggerated.