In Memoriam: Listening to Alfred Brendel

Most people listening to classical music today have, to a greater or lesser degree, been musically socialized with the performances of Alfred Brendel. He was a fixed star on the international scene when it came to Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert and a few other of his favorite composers. His dry wit, usually gentle, rarely acerbic, poignancy, his unapologetic classicism made him an unlikely, charming icon. He has passed away on Tuesday, June 17^th, 2025 at his home in London.

I was on the steps outside the Musikverein when I read the news that Alfred Brendel had passed away in London, at the age of 94. This was the place he had given his final recital of his truly final farewell tour and this was the town where he lived when his career got under way in 1950 after first successes in Graz and before he permanently settled in the UK in 1971.

His success was a stellar one; born in the 1930s, Brendel was of a time that came a generation-plus after the keyboard titans à la Arthur Schnabel (1882), Wilhelm Backhaus (1884), Edwin Fischer (1886), Arthur Rubinstein (1887), Wilhelm Kempff (1895), Vladimir Horowitz, Rudolf Serkin and Claudio Arrau (all 1903). He was thus a “modern” artist, to anyone born before 1980, and, crucially, born into the stereo age. This is relevant, because as the exclusive go-to pianist of one of the major labels – Philips (now Decca) – for the heydays of the late analog and digital age, Brendel became a superstar of – and to some extent also because of – the recorded age. In the 100-volume, 200-CD “Great Pianists Of The 20th Century” project of Tom Deacon’s – to which Brendel was an advisor – Brendel is one of only seven pianists (Arrau, Gilels, Horowitz, Kempff, Richter & Rubinstein being the others) with three volumes dedicated to his art. If it had to be the classical repertoire – Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven – Brendel was there for you. Within that realm – and a little beyond – he recorded most of what there was to be recorded and much of that twice, some, like the Beethoven Sonatas, even thrice or more: In the 60s for Vox, in the 70s for Philips, analog, and for Philips again in the 90s, digitally. And of select works Brendel, who exerted quite a bit of control over what would get released and what would not, opted to have live accounts published, which he professedly preferred over his studio accounts. With the different releases of each of these versions (and most of them on Philips or Decca, still), it can get a bit messy trying to figure out which the analog second recording of D.960 or the digital remake of the Moonlight Sonata is or isn't. (But I am here to help.)

Alfred Brendel on Ionarts: In Performance His Soft Touch, Powerfully Moving, 02/09/2006 (jfl) Closing the Lid: Alfred Brendel, 19/03/2008 (Charles) A Conversation with Alfred Brendel, 20/03/2008 (Michael Lodico) Alfred Brendel Speaks, 11/18/2000 (Charles) On Record: Best Recordings of 2004 (#8), 12/16/2004 (jfl) From Goerne to His Distant Beloved, 07/18/2005 (jfl) Brendel and Mozart, 02/06/2006 (Charles) Brendel’s Choice, 02/06/2006 (jfl) Best Recordings of 2009 (#3), 12/14/2009 (jfl)

In Austria, his success shadowed that of fellow pianists Paul Badura-Skoda (1927), who, to some degree, escaped into the historical performance niche, Jörg Demus (1928), who found his main fame in Lied accompaniment, Ingrid Haebler (1929), who recorded much the same repertoire but whose star waned earlier, and Friedrich Gulda (1930), who became the eccentric: Considered by people in the know as a superior pianist but with a far smaller reach, ultimately. Internationally – specifically in America – there were contemporaries Byron Janis (1928), Glenn Gould (1932), Van Cliburn (1934), Leon Fleisher (1928), Richard Goode (1943), most of whom had their careers cut prematurely short; elsewhere, pianists like Ivan Moravec (1930) were stuck behind the iron curtain. As a result, the name “Alfred Brendel” and the maroon bar of the Philips label’s recordings became as indicative of a musically interested household as Wilhelm Kempff on the Yellow Label had been, a few decades earlier. Brendel’s association with the “Complete Mozart Edition” only furthered this omnipresence.

This kind of prominence brought about the invariable backlash in the form of criticism – the thrust of which, generally, was that Brendel was boring. This accusation might have had its understandable roots in Brendel’s style, which relied on subtlety and wit, level-headedness and sincerity, articulation, intelligence, and purpose, but never flash. The grand romantic gesture, even if it had been within his reach, was not temperamentally his. Even Liszt (where he did show the kind of chops that some critics might occasionally have forgotten he had) was not showy with Brendel.

It also showed in the repertoire he chose to play and even more so the repertoire he chose not to play. He left out composers most pianists couldn’t envisage making a career without: Chopin was (largely) missing; hardly, if any, Debussy or Ravel; no Rachmaninoff was ever in his sights, nor Tchaikovsky. Instead, he dropped morsels of modernism into his recitals (and occasionally recordings) with appearances of Schoenberg, Berg, Webern, Kurtág (a friend and intellectual sparring partner), and especially Ferruccio Busoni, who somehow had always appealed to Brendel’s sensibilities.

It could be argued that some of these qualities shone more in live performance than on record (though there are plenty recordings to suggest that this was not – certainly not necessarily – the case). Charles and I were lucky enough to catch some of his farewell-tour concerts in D.C., where we were able to observe these traits of the late (now in both senses of the word) Brendel. [See table to the right]

A few lines from Charles’ review strike me as really circling the character of Brendel’s playing:

As he has done with breathtaking consistency throughout his career, Brendel etched every detail into the sound but kept it simple… Most of all, Brendel's playing showed how sometimes less is more and that motion and force can both be modulated to give greater contour to the musical shape. … What Brendel can make you do is love a theme so much that its return, voiced with only a slight adjustment of dynamic or tempo, can feel like a warm embrace. … This was a performance noteworthy by its understatement, although Brendel's tone was forceful where it needed to be.

And my own introduction, two years earlier, wasn’t the worst summation of his career, either. In fact, it would seem I have unwittingly self-plagiarized myself, above, almost two decades later:

Alfred Brendel is as big a superstar as you’ll find in the world of classical music. The well-filled Kennedy Center Concert Hall was teeming with the highest expectations from a pianist who has, for half a century, represented the highest form of musical craftsmanship in the classical repertoire (well confined on record; more diverse in recitals, to Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, and Haydn). The term “craftsmanship” is deliberately chosen: Brendel has attained his fame solely through the quality and consistency of his performances, not through flashy appearances or particularly dazzling playing.

One might add to this something that Charles has pointed out elsewhere, namely that “[Brendel] was an extremely perceptive musician, without bringing any of the aridity one fears from cerebral players.” True, that. Though if he avoided aridity, he also never doled out the juice.

Having retired from playing (though he occasionally read and spoke in public) in 2008, Alfred Brendel has been silent for 17 years at this point. When we speak of his death as a “loss”, this is presumably a loss of innocence; a loss of a constant in our lives; something we had gotten used to existing, because it existed alongside us for so long. Brendel’s mortality reminds us of our own. Musically, it is no loss, because Brendel has already given us all the many gifts he was ever going to give us. His was a career that’s as great as any – and a cause for celebration. The way that Alfred Brendel will live on is, as he has been for a while, in our memories. And, increasingly, in the many recordings he has left us to enjoy. Below are some of the greatest recordings he has made; personal favorites of Charles and myself included. Meanwhile, here's Tim Page’s Obituary of Alfred Brendel in the WaPo.

J.Haydn 11 Piano Sonatas Alfred Brendel Philips (2009) US | UK | DE

Joseph Haydn, 11 Piano Sonatas (Philips/Decca, 1979-1985)

If there is one recording, above all, that characterizes Brendel’s genius, it’s his Haydn. He did not record a ton of Haydn; these eleven Sonatas are the heart of it (plus an early concerto, a live sonata here or there, the F minor Variations — that’s probably it). We might have wanted more but we did not really need more. Only because it is Haydn, who gets short shrift outside when it comes to his piano music, did these recordings not become as iconic as, say, Gould’s Goldbergs, Pollini’s Late Beethoven, Rubinstein’s Mazurkas, or Argerich’s Rock-3.

Indeed, his Haydn is so nice, I reviewed it twice on my “Best Recordings of the Year” lists. When I first hailed their (European) availability in a box set, and when it finally got international release in 2009, I wrote, more or less: “This is simply the best recording of the Haydn by anyone and the best recording by Brendel of anything.” And so it is… make it spearhead your Brendel-Appreciation-Listening.

L.v.Beethoven Piano Sonata op.27/2 et al. A.Brendel Philips (2006) US | UK | DE

Ludwig van Beethoven, Piano Sonata op.27/2, ,No.14 "Quasi una fantasia (Philips, 1993)"

My Beethoven-predilections had long, at least as much out of ignorance as genuine preference, lain elsewhere than with Brendel. I have since closed my Brendelian Beethoven-gap by getting hands and ears on both his analogue and digital Philips sets (the earlier Vox/Turnabout recordings have never interested me and I can’t pretend to want to get into them now). I have since learned to appreciate Brendel’s Beethoven. Love, however, had only ensued in a few select sonatas. Very much among them is No. 14, the “Moonlight Sonata”. Perhaps it is Brendel’s total negation of syrup or the violence of the contrast between the Allegretto and the Presto, into which Brendel plunges himself in a headlong way that might seem unexpected, if one is not familiar with that side – one of abandon – of Brendel’s. My preference here is squarely with the digital remake (1993), which has clearer sound and greater contrasts than the 1972 analog version. (Jed Distler’s review here; he likes it just a little less but then he is, openly, not a Brendel fan by any stretch of the imagination.) If you find a release with this cover or this cover, those are also the digital recording. This is not.

L.v.Beethoven Bagatelles A.Brendel Philips (1997) US | UK | DE

Ludwig van Beethoven, Bagatelles (Philips, 1996)

Charles also recommends a Beethoven selection from Brendel’s discography: “While he could certainly handle large forms and make grand statements with, say, the piano sonatas of Schubert, Beethoven, and Mozart, for my money it was Brendel’s way with miniatures that most charmed. His utterly serious and yet unprepossessing take on Beethoven’s Bagatelles stand out among his traversal of the composer’s complete works for piano, the first in recorded history.” Gramophone (generally very taken by the London-based Brendel, thus chimed in on these recordings, captured in September of 1996 at the Henry Wood Hall in London: “His readings have the easy authority of one who has no difficulty in tracing the composer's most casual thoughts, even if he does not always follow his instructions to the letter. Brendel shows considerable virtuosity when he wishes to unleash it... but he is essentially a thoughtful, lyrical pianist with a tone which sings—but never monotonously.”

F.Liszt Concertos & Solo Work A.Brendel Eloquence (2011) US | UK | DE

F.Liszt Concertos & Solo Work A.Brendel Philips (1995) US | UK | DE

Franz Liszt, Années de pèlerinage & Totentanz (Decca, 1986/1972)

In his not-quite-so-secret second specialty after the Viennese School, Liszt, Alfred Brendel could make me appreciate some works that other, more brawny than brainy pianists could not. In fact, there is something to be found that’s admirable in virtually all of his Liszt recordings, none of which are bad, all of which are good, and a few of which are positively exceptional. I would place his Années de pèlerinage (Books I & II) at the center of this, which I find magisterial and ingratiating rather than thunderous. It has always been rather well regarded, despite not being particularly mainstream in its approach. (That’s most likely why I like it quite as much. I only prefer Daniel Grimmwood’s original instrument recording to it.) In a survey of Brendel’s recordings, past and upcoming, good old Joseph McLellan wrote about them the following for the WaPo in 1988: “His most radical gesture is that of performing the whole set of seven pieces as though it were a single work – finding unsuspected continuities, echoes and tensions among the pieces, which can be and usually are treated as isolated works.” The BBC Music magazine commented that “Brendel’s performances of the Swiss and Italian years, ending with an electrifying account of the Dante Sonata, are surely among the finest things he has done.”

Philips issued the Années de pèlerinage as part of the complete set together with Zoltán Kocsis‘s contemporaneous recording of the “Troisième Année”, which Brendel recorded in parts but never fully. That’s a fine idea but since that’s already two CDs and there’s more Liszt of Brendel’s that’s worth having, it might be best gotten as part of one of the Liszt-boxes of Brendel’s, which also contains his spectacularly dark and sulfurous Totentanz with Bernard Haitink [sic!], along with their recording of the very good piano concertos. This is all the more true, since Charles happens to recommend Brendel’s recording of some of the composer’s late works for piano as one that “stands among the most poetic readings of Liszt’s music ever made. Selections from the Third Year of Années de pèlerinage, including the enigmatic ‘Sunt lacrimae rerum (en mode hongrois),’ and other Hungarian remembrances, look forward to the atonal adventures of the 20^th century.” And while one’s at it, it doesn’t hurt to listen to his “Weihnachtsbaum” rendition (a Christmas-time favorite), the “Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen” Variations, and the B minor Sonata. All of this is either on the eloquence set “Brendel Plays Liszt” or the “The Art of Brendel, volume 4” set.

There is also a DVD set of the first two ‘Years’ available, reviewed on ionarts, which is surprisingly enjoyable and edifying. I have to recant the bit about “turning to Lazaar Berman” in these works; I would now never opt for Berman (or even Bolet) over Brendel in these pieces. Only Grimwood and maybe Arrau, if only had actually recorded them anywhere nearly completely.

F.Schubert Trout Quintet Brendel, ¾Cleveland Quartet, v.Demark Philips (1978) US | UK | DE

Franz Schubert, Trout Quintet, Cleveland String Quartet (Philips, 1977)

Trout vs. Trout: Alfred Brendel was so much in demand, the fact that he was a consumate chamber musician might have gotten less play than it should have. In the above quoted McLellan piece, Joe also wrote that “it might be possible today to find a few more shadows in the ‘Trout’ Quintet than are displayed in Brendel’s 1977 recording with [members of] the Cleveland Quartet, but it is hard to imagine more exquisite playing. No new version seems to be in the offing, and none seems to be needed.” Well, he was right about the first Trout, which is a terrific recording that still offers loads of joy. It has warmth, geniality, Viennese-via-Cleveland-Spirit galore, and it’s a definite recommendation here, not the least for the spirit of sheer, happy elation at the music. But six years after these lines were published, they did get Brendel on the hook for a re-recording, now with Thomas Zehetmair, Tabea Zimmermann, Richard Duven, and Peter Riegelbauer as his musical partners… and boy, that’s a doozy, too. Brendel is every bit as lively and mellifluous here and every inner voice seems to be well considered – then played in perfectly natural flow, subtle and supple in equal measure. You will do well with either recording but if you need to choose or start with one, make it the classic version which has a certain cozy vibe to it that I associate with Brendel and find thus slightly more emblematic of the pianist whom we are celebrating in this post. (This is the Philips "Blue Face" pressing, FYI.)

F.Schubert Impromptus A.Brendel Philips DUO (1997) US | UK | DE

Franz Schubert, Impromptus (Philips, 1972/75)

We stick with Schubert and move to one of Charles’ favorites, analogue recordings of the Impromptus: Among the works of Schubert, known for their “heavenly length,” the Impromptus pass for miniatures. Brendel brought out each piece’s most characteristic elements with graceful ease. While his Schubert had moments of forlorn loneliness, his was not a retiring or wilting Schubert, but an interpretation that contained great passion under the veneer of a pleasing and entertaining façade. The BBC Magazine appears to agree with him, writing of the 2012 re-issue (of the 70s recordings): “Brendel gets to the heart of the matter in this glorious recording. The balance of charm, intensity and intellectual rigour is nigh‑on ideal.” The easiest way to get the recording is on the Philips DUO which not only combines op.90, D.899 and op.142, D.935 but also the 3 Klavierstücke D.946, which are sometimes called Impromptus (plus the 6 Moments musicaux and all the German Dances). If you are only looking for the former, you can also find them on this, this, or this release – but not this one, which contains the 1988 digital remakes.

W.A.Mozart The Piano Concertos Brendel, ASMF, Marriner Eloquence/Decca (2009) US | UK | DE

W.A.Mozart The Piano Concertos Brendel, ASMF, Marriner Philips Mozart Edition (1990) US | UK | DE

W.A.Mozart The Piano Concertos Brendel, ASMF, Marriner Decca Collector's Edition (2011) US | UK | DE

W.A.Mozart, Piano Concertos, Sir Neville Marriner, ASMF (Philips, 1970-84)

It would be sheer folly to talk Brendel and not recommend Mozart, with whom Brendel has made so much of his reputation. And while talking about Mozart, it would be equally unfathomable – churlish even – to simply skip his recordings of the Mozart-concertos with the indefatigable Neville Marriner and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, which were compiled in a steady 14 years. Yes, there had been Mozart recorded previously by him and again to great acclaim afterwards. And yes, the once unavoidable omnipresence of Marriner – and these recordings in particular – had eventually brought about a cooling to them in the discerning snob’s reception. But the fact is: These recordings have withstood the test of time on every re-hearing; they have weathered the (much appreciated) historically informed performance movement with ease, and they have aged very gracefully. Wit and brain married to natural, affluent elegance simply isn’t a bad combination.

When Richard Osborne called them "a musical vade mecum of an altogether special importance and distinction", he wasn't being a shill for an Englishman's favorite. (Altohugh at this point, I might as well posit that there was something about Brendel that very much appealed to the English… perhaps something about the quality of not standing out too much. Not even by sheer excellence, if it were to happen so, lest one give the impression of being unseemly. That, plus his gentleman’s combination of quirk and intellect, gravitas and humor. In 2012, on the occasion of a re-issue Michael Jameson, writing for the BBC Music Magazine, gushed that “Brendel, Marriner and the Academy of St Martin in the Fields together forge an impeccable partnership in these familiar Mozart concertos. Soundwise, it seems implausible that these recordings were made some twenty years ago; …Brendel’s playing continues to astonish and enliven at every turn. Mellifluous, chaste and intellectually absorbing, the catalogue still offers no finer versions of either K488, or the enigmatic and autumnal K595, the closing chapter in the greatest concerto cycle ever written. Essential at any price!”

Granted, the competition is wild and wonderful (a Mozart Piano Concerto Cycle Survey is in the planning!). There is Uchida, Zacharias (twice), Buchbinder, Schiff, and Perahia and even Jandó on Naxos,(though not competitively available) and each of them have their fans and upsides. But at a minimum, a few of these performances belong in every good collection: Were I to limit myself, I’d aim right for concertos Nos.15 (K.450!), 19 (K.459), 23 (K.488), and 27 (K.595). But while you’re at it, you might as well get the whole shebang.

L.v.Beethoven / F.Schubert An die ferne Geliebte / Schwanengesang M.Goerne / A.Brendel Decca (2005) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven/F.Schubert, An die ferne Geliebte/Schwanengesang, Matthias Goerne (Decca, 2005)

Brendel was an occasional Lied-accompanist, but an uncommonly good one, what with the Lied as a genre rather resonating with the cerebral aspect of his tastes in music. Unlike other ‘big-name’ soloists who did Lied-duty, he was actually really, consistently good at it, even if he recorded little in that function. There’s Schwanengesang, Liederkreis, Dichterliebe, and two Winterreisen (the 1985 recording for Philips and a 1979 recital caught on Video at the Siemensvilla) with Fischer-Dieskau. The 1985 recording is good, certainly Brendel’s contribution which even bests the splendid Jörg Demus for being equally supporting character and independent actor. Brendel is the most liberated of Fi-Di’s pianists in this work, it’s more dramatic in a learned, experienced way, and in its best moments the version offers a touching vulnerability. Plainchant of the youthful poet it ain’t, though, and the hardened vocal quality, brittle here and there, means that Dieskau’s wisdom of old age doesn’t entirely make up for his lack of vocal ease.

So if it isn’t Fi-Di’s best Winterreise (Demus’ is), surely it can’t be a top recommendation? Neither will be Brendel’s Winterreise with Matthias Goerne, though it’s a very good recording… and that’s because ate in his career – and early in Matthias Goerne’s – Brendel performed a Beethoven-Schubert recital with An die ferne Geliebte and Schwanengesang at Wigmore Hall, which Decca released in 2005… and that’s outstanding, indeed. To quote rather liberally from the review on ionarts: “With the Beethoven/Schubert disc, Goerne has [a] winner. Live as it is, one might imagine a more polished or more nuanced account (haven’t we our fair share of those, though?), but Goerne leaves nothing wanting as regards drama and a compelling forward drive that adds urgency without evoking haste. With a Beethovian of the first rank like Brendel at the piano, Goerne gets a most sensitive, robust, and – this being of chief importance – confident accompaniment that is second to none. Yes, Goerne sounds slightly forced in some of the Schubert songs, with that deeply anchored chest voice of a darker, dead-serious quality, but at that point in his career, that wasn’t a distraction, just a different style than, say, Gerhaher’s… That personal caveat notwithstanding, it is a very impressive and enjoyable recording of Schubert’s last songs… Brilliant as I think Dieskau’s Ferne Geliebte is, Goerne has so much to add to the cycle with his very different baritone voice and its darker quality. An die ferne Geliebte has not seen so many recordings that we could ignore a new one of such quality. The artists themselves ought to be enough for interest in this CD, and … I am pleased as punch whenever I listen to it.”

W.A.Mozart Piano Concertos 20, 24 A.Brendel, C.Mackerras, SCO Decca (2007) US | UK | DE

W.A.Mozart, Piano Concertos Nos. 20 & 24, Sir Charles Mackerras, Scottish CO (Decca 2007)

When Alfred Brendel set about to re-record some of the Mozart Piano Concertos (namely Nos. 9, 12, 17, 20, 22, 24, 25, and 27), collectors will probably have been used to Brendel not shying away from competing with himself in the catalogue, so long as he figured he had something new to say. Or maybe he simply loved music-making with Charles Mackerras and the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, which would be very understandable. I don’t think that these versions’ excellence diminishes in any way the previous recordings, they are absolutely delightful enough to merit inclusion here.

Jed Distler, who cannot be accused of being a Brendel-fanboy, wrote about these collaborations between the seasoned Brendel and the congenial Mackerras on ClassicsToday this: The present concertos were among the highlights of Alfred Brendel’s mid-1970s Mozart cycle. His remakes, if anything, are even better. Brendel…’s articulation, timing, and expressive economy fills each phrase with inspired life. While his homegrown cadenzas depart from Mozart’s harmonic syntax, Brendel’s suave delivery allows them to mesh more naturally with their surroundings this time around. Sir Charles Mackerras’ astonishing conducting, however, takes center stage. He reveals the full measure of Mozart’s brilliance as an orchestrator, eliciting lean textures that allow important wind and brass motives their due. Every nuance of voicing and timbre is pinpointed to a tee (both from the podium and Philips’ radar-eared engineers), yet nothing ever sounds forced or self-conscious, and, needless to say, transcends mere accompaniment. More Mozart from Brendel and Mackerras, please!

Speaking of the D Minor concerto, you will certainly hear the darkness, with more than a hint of Don Giovanni, in the Allegro’s opening, that Mackerras plants forcefully. Brendel, too, adds an occasional hint of brooding, though with him it’s never much more than a hint, of course, because his inner, natural poise does not allow any mawkish intrusions or sentimentality. And all for the better. That concerto also made it onto one the “Artist’s Choice” discs of Brendel, which I reviewed here on ionarts: “[A]fter fifty years of playing those works, you won’t find a more unapologetic, self-assured way of playing Mozart.”

L.v.Beethoven Diabelli Variations A.Brendel Philips (1990) US | UK | DE

Ludwig van Beethoven, Diabelli Variations (Philips, 1988)

For our penultimate choice back to Beethoven: The phrase of an artist “owning” any given work is being too heavy a lifting, generally. And certainly, there are other pianists who had a knack for the unwieldy Diabelli Variations, but Brendel seems to have gotten more out of them on every encounter, than one has any right to expect. He’s recorded them often enough, too, to give us choice. He liked and released his most recent, 2001, live recording from the Royal Festival Hall (Decca). He first recorded them for Vox/Turnabout in 1964 (all serious, rather un-Brendelian), then in 1976 (also live from Festival Hall) for Decca. This – and indeed any other version of the Variations – has become a bit hard to track down, digitally: the analogue recording can be found on the second (all-Beethoven) of his “Great Pianists of the Century” discs and his “The Art of Alfred Brendel – Volume 2” 5-disc Beethoven set. The most prevalent version is his 1988, digital studio recording for Decca from London, and it’s decidedly not the worst. With sound quality taken into consideration, it’s the most sensible bet and decidedly our recommendation, if you don’t already have – and are happy with – the 2001 ‘final words’.

F.Schubert D960 & Wanderer Fantasie A.Brendel Philips (1987) US | UK | DE

F.Schubert Last 3 Piano Sonatas A.Brendel Philips DUO (1993) US | UK | DE

Franz Schubert, Piano Sonata D.960 (Philips, 1972)

And, finalmente, Schubert once more: His recording(s) of Schubert’s D.960 Sonata are terrific, even if critics aren’t of one mind which one they actually prefer. The digital studio remake from 1988 has the advantage of better sound. Jed Distler, reviewing the live 2008 Hannover “Farewell recital”, found it a “simpler, more organically nuanced advance over the pianist’s relatively fussy and overpointed 1972 traversal”, which he can’t stand. A ClassicsToday colleague also likes the live 1997 Royal Festival Hall (“no less visionary nor valedictory than Brendel’s earlier recordings for Philips”). Gramophone have been kinder to the early version, considering the slow movement “surely one of the most beautiful performances of this movement on disc”. The rendition has ingrained itself in many listeners who grew up with it – and it stands up quite nicely to these ears, too. So let’s start there and let Brendel-lovers work their way up the ladder, if they wish to hunt for nuanced differences in subsequent takes. If you want to make sure to grab the analogue version, and not the digital one, you must merely stay away from this release, the box with his Schubert remakes and the aformentioned (and linked-to) live releases. I would, however, recommend that you get the version that couples D.960 with Brendel’s wonderful (earlier), malleable, searching Wanderer Fantasy, which I would include in my trinity of Wandererfantasien, next to Pollini and whomever I fancy most that day (probably Curzon).

What are your favorite memories and recordings of Alfred Brendel? Hit me up on Social Media or leave a comment!


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