Music as Propaganda in Washington and New York

This week I have had the chance to see two propaganda concerts in the span of three days – which, as an eager proponent of more cultural diplomacy (which is the name for propaganda if ‘your guys’ are doing it), I embrace wholeheartedly. In principle, at least.

Ideally, cultural diplomacy brings people of diverse background, opinions, and cultures together on presumably neutral, common ground. Art – classical music – for example.

The United States was no slouch at this during the Cold War. Duke Ellington, Van Cliburn, and Co. were out there to convince peoples around the world that the US was not a ruthless, soulless capitalist, slave-holding, baby-eating monster. Well, at least not only that. Since then, the US seems to have forgotten the benefits of this policy that cost a comparatively paltry $1 billion annually – especially when compared to certain policies that cost up to $200 million per day and have done significantly less to improve the image of the United States abroad.

No Nation had perfected the art of cultural diplomacy quite as the Soviet Union. In late 1989, the Afghan blood not yet dry on Russian bayonets, they sent the Red Army Choir to the Kennedy Center who, accompanied by standing ovations, left a tear-soaked audience behind. They sang at the White House and on David Letterman – and the press suggested that Gorbachev might as well retire all his career diplomats, as long as these singers were around. Doing “God Bless America” as an encore, surreal as it might have been, was a touch of genius.

Russian National Philharmonic Orchestra

Russian Propaganda at the Kennedy Center

Olga Kern, Rachmaninov Transcriptions, Corelli Variations Olga Kern, Rachmaninov/Balakirev, Sonata No. 2/Islamey

Beethoven, PCs #1 & 3, Pletnev/RNO Tchaikovsky, Symphonic Poems, Pletnev/RNO Rachmaninov/Prokofiev, PCs #3, Pletnev/RNO Rachmaninov, Sy #2, Pletnev/RNO

It is safe to assume that the successor-state to the Soviet Union – Russia – is not lacking much in this skill, either. And, indeed, after having dropped the ball for a few years after the fall of the Soviet Empire, Russia now puts some of its new riches toward cultural diplomacy, again. Its ballet companies tour the world’s capitals (currency having been the primary reason once, but losing more and more of its importance), its orchestras the world. At the heart of this mission is the National Philharmonic Orchestra of Russia (NPOR), an orchestra stamped out of the ground by Vladimir Putin for Vladimir Spivakov (close to former Culture Minister Mikhail Shvydkoi, violin teacher to Putin's kids, friend of the Putin family and of course ‘politically reliable’) after the Mikhail Pletnev-founded Russian National Orchestra (RNO) refused to lose its independence from the state to become the Russian National Philharmonic Orchestra (RNPO). (For more on the Moscow orchestra politics read George Loomis’ 2003 IHT article.) Its job is to spread the wonders of fine Russian culture (of which there are a great many, of course) and perhaps detract attention from Russia spiraling from a ‘totalitarian-light’ kleptocracy toward a 21st century variety of fascism.

The RNPO tours with some of the finest Russian soloists and takes a good crack at their mission. This time they brought Olga Kern to the Kennedy Center – and she may well have detracted successfully from energy extortion, journalist assassinations, Chechnya, et al... but unfortunately she also detracted from Rachmaninov, whose second Piano Concerto she played. Technically gifted and with some very fine recordings (Harmonia Mundi) under her (short) belt, this excessively beautiful blonde did nothing to further Rachmaninov’s cause among the connoisseurs in the audience. Her opening chords were very nicely organized around a steady crescendo, but there was no sense of portamento; the chords were plunked down separately (as is lamentably often the case) for effect, and then exaggerated with little extra delays. The slow movement was percussive and devoid of any legato, robbing “R2” of its integrity for the sake of a little hollow splash. The most interesting aspect of the final movement was the intricate muscle-work on her toned, exposed shoulders. The Piano – a Yamaha – sounded bearably bright in the upper register but seemed to ‘burp’ in the very lowest: not an advertisement for the craft of the Japanese makers.

The preceding Festival Overture op.96 by Dmitry Shostakovich is, fittingly, a propaganda work written to commemorate the 37th anniversary of the Revolution (it was part of a deal for DSCH to re-ingratiate himself with the party). It’s one of my least favorite works by Shostakovich: A trite, pompous, never-altering 8-minute all-out fake orgasm that might impress at first, but is, at best, a musical Potemkin’s Village. DSCH’s infinitely superior propaganda work, the genuinely great Fifth Symphony was – not surprisingly – on the second half of this program... but by then these ears had had enough and moved on to hear Wagner next door. The NPOR plays well but far from great – with “Russian subtlety” as a friend put it mischievously. It does not hold a candle to Pletnev’s (unpolitical) RNO which, tellingly, made Beethoven the featured composer of 2006 (it was 'supposed' to be the Shostakovich's year).

North German Radio Symphony Orchestra

Hanseatic Propaganda at Carnegie Hall


The North German Broadcasting Company (NDR) had different goals for its North American (only New York, actually) outreach – perhaps less nefarious, if no less calculating. With their primary instrument, the North German Radio Symphony Orchestra (NDRSO), they are here to promote (raise visibility & funds) their new Private-Public-Partnership undertaking of building a new symphony hall in Hamburg... the imposing, but fittingly impressive “Elbe Philharmonic Hall”.

A glossy, oversized, lavishly illustrated catalogue accompanied their first (of two) Carnegie Hall concerts on Monday, March 27th, showing the plans for this Herzog & de Meuron (Tate Modern, London – de Young Museum, San Francisco – Olympic Stadium, Beijing) developed complex – and giving a history of the city, the NDR, and Music Director Christoph von Dohnányi. The building, sitting on the late 19th century, dark-red brick storage houses in the former industrial port district, looks like it is straight out of a futuristic version of The Lord of the Rings; a tower of light, a ship sailing some 115 feet above the ground.

Their program, true to their cause, was “all-Hamburgian”. That’s not too difficult if your native sons include Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy and Johannes Brahms and it’s even easier if you include – only natural for a city shaped by its traders and merchants – those who have made Hamburg a center of their work or life: Georg Philipp Telemann, C.P.E. Bach, Gustav Mahler, György Ligeti, Alfred Schnittke, Sofia Gubaidulina, et al..

Having originally scheduled my NDR experience for Tuesday, I fully expected the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto to be performed. A very fine performance, surely, under Vadim Repin, but still the same old, if ever-beautiful, concerto. What a delight and joy to be presented with the whacky, wild, and wondrous Forth Violin concerto by Alfred Schnittke, instead! The musical Gods seemed to have smiled upon me, even if many audience members more likely grid their teeth. They should not have, because this concerto, even if its fourth movement is probably a little too long for its own good, is music to smile about and laugh at... it’s entertainment in the best sense. It toys with beauty and the listeners’ expectations before it irreverently pulls the rug out from underneath them. It’s a creative and unique collage of styles; it is part serene, part surreal. There were moments where I fully expected soloist Repin to crack a smile mid-playing. Schnittke in general and this work in particular, is ill served by being taken too seriously. We don’t need an extra furrow in our brow as we might with the all-capital-letters “serious” music of Liszt or late Beethoven.

Bells toll the first movement in – whereupon the violin enters in faked harmony before it all goes to hell, crunching and cats wailing... tricking the listener and making him fear the worst before reemerging as sweet and lyrical. The second movement (Vivo) has a ridiculously frantic climax and lots of big-hearted cacophony with a broad smile; a far cry from the bone-dry, thin-lipped intellectual modernism of a Boulez or Ferneyhough. Who can refuse to love the harpsichord in the third movement where it supports one of the hauntingly beautiful melodies in the solo violin and strings before it slowly slips away to turn sour in a deliciously subversive – or coy – way. A bit quieter, perhaps even with serious moments, the fourth movement loses some of the edge, even as it winks at the listener, courtesy of the prepared piano.

The other highlight of the concert was a rich and saturated rendition of Brahms’ First Symphony. From the first timpani strokes onward, this was captivating playing. Cut from one cloth, and a luscious cloth, at that. Confident – just like Brahms must have labored hard on making it sound – with shimmering backdrops to serve the melodies and minimal thematic material. But even amid this generous sound there was at every point an attention to detail displayed that other orchestras might give in an opening or final chord, but few places else. With the focus audibly being on more than just getting the notes right and playing in unison (largely a given, with the NDRSO), this was enough to elicit rave ovations from most of the Carnegie audience. The Mendelssohn Ruy Blas Overture, op.95, had already shown that this orchestra is something to be proud of... an oiled machine with a lean, expressive, sinuous string section; a band that is technically so assured and in control that it automatically hones in on elements like detail, tone, feeling, color.

Today they will perform the aforementioned Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, Mahler's First Symphony, and Ligeti's Lontano. On Wednesday they will perform Beethoven's Eroica as part of the United Nation's 50th anniversary celebration of the 1957 Treaty of Rome.

Auryn Quartett, Finishing Up at FAES

Not only the audience, but also the performers wanted to thank the organizer behind the Foundation for Advanced Education in the Sciences concert series, presenting her with a basket of flowers. Over the course of the last three Sunday afternoons at Bethesda's Congregation Beth El, the Cologne-based Auryn Quartett has presented a complete cycle of the Britten string quartets, as well as a complete cycle of the Mozart string quintets, with violist Roger Tapping. For an exceptionally reasonable ticket price, FAES presents many good concerts and, not infrequently, excellent ones like these.

For their final program, the group left the other late Mozart quintet, in D major, K. 593. It has an unusual first movement, in which a sphnixian, harmonically adventurous Larghetto section frames the Allegro. Mozart was experimenting at this point in his career with how far he could push tonal structures, and the Adagio also has a section in which extended harmonies give an almost modern character. The Auryn Quartett and Tapping played the Menuetto tenderly, with the odd pizzicato Trio made to stand out. They also allowed the weird finale theme -- "corrected" in the manuscript by hands other than Mozart's, changes that were not undone until musicologist Ernst Hess's 1960-61 article -- to ramble away to its slightly nutty conclusion.

Auryn Quartett: Britten Quartets 2 /3 (1996)

The three concerts allowed the Britten quartets to unfold in the order in which they were composed. The second, played last week, is usually my favorite, but the third, op. 94 (a twilight work, related closely to Britten's final opera, the disturbing Death in Venice), is often in competition for the honor. In this strong rendition, notes rose up from the dissonant texture of the first movement (Duets), seemingly unrelated until they came together in the concluding, glassy cluster. The slow, dissonant third movement, played here with trance-like poise even when cellist Andreas Arndt made his instrument meow like a cat, is the most uncompromising movement in all three Britten quartets. This difficult quality is reinforced by the short, vigorous fourth movement, where the viola shrieks of Steuart Eaton recalled Shostakovich. It was good to see most copies of the Auryn Quartett's Britten quartets CD get bought up at intermission: the group converted some listeners to the Britten quartets.

Auryn Quartett / FAES: Part One | Part Two

Inevitably, the Mozart cycle had to end, too, and the group elected to close with the C major quintet, K. 515. Even in the cheerfully played first-movement Allegro, there was a wistful air to this great work, the companion of my favorite quintet, K. 516, played on the first concert. The Andante movement features a prominent solo role for the first viola, played with a tuneful, long line by Steuart Eaton. The meandering Menuetto theme and its chromatic Trio counterpart, which oscillates back and forth, received a gentle performance. The reason to close the cycle with this quintet became evident with the last movement, which has such a chipper theme. Taken at an impressively brisk tempo, well played and bursting with energy, it was precisely the right way to end this exemplary series of concerts. After words of thanks from cellist Andreas Arndt, we were given one last bit of Mozart, the slow movement from the E-flat quintet, K. 614. In their first performance of it, the previous Sunday, the piece seemed slightly empty, but this time it made a sweet, profound epilogue.

One concert remains on this season's schedule from FAES, an all-Beethoven recital by cellist Amit Peled and pianist Alon Goldstein (April 15, 4 pm). For next year's season, FAES has decided to scale back the number of concerts, but there are some very exciting events planned. In the fall/winter, pianists Richard Goode (October 14, 4 pm) and Alain Planès (December 9, 3 pm) will give recitals, which are both events to be marked on the calendar now.

Chantry Premieres New Edition of Allegri's "Miserere"

Gregorio Allegri (1582-1652)

Chantry offered audiences in D.C. and Silver Spring a program called “Holy Week in Renaissance Rome,” an uplifting evening of early music for unaccompanied voices. The focal point of the concert was the director David Taylor's own edition of Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere mei, Deus, a version of Psalm 50 that has been performed in the Sistine Chapel for Tenebrae (the dark, funeral-like services in Holy Week) for centuries since its composition in 1638. During a period that the Catholic Church was expanding beyond the extensive use of chant, the fresh polyphonic work for double-choir was so highly regarded – in part for its memorable high C – that under threat of excommunication, all were barred from copying or distributing the score to anyone. Interestingly, Mozart at the age of fourteen, after hearing the Sistine Chapel services, was able to memorize and then dictate the score for publication in England in 1771, though he left out the prized secret embellishments of the second choir.

The background of the mystery, secrecy, and fame surrounding the work was thoroughly explained to the audience in the eight full pages of single-spaced small-point program notes that could easily take twenty minutes to peruse. Additionally, instead of just verbal program notes, an extensive “show and tell” was held, with the conductor having the choir sing the “high-arching” first phrase of the piece in the following ways, each prefaced by Taylor. His point was that for the famous high B or C – notably heard by Mendelssohn in a performance in his day – to be included, the entire piece must be transposed up in its entirety, instead of just a small section.

Although a noble effort at “achieving a performance that reproduces the music just as it was sung by the Papal Choir in Allegri’s own time or two centuries that follow” as stated in the program notes, the concert was indeed far from the ideal of authenticity. Perhaps a more authentic experience for the audience could have been gained by trimming the dry technical side of the presentation, while inviting the audience to close their eyes and imagine they were indeed experiencing the work in the context of a Triduum liturgy in the splendor of the Sistine Chapel, with the profound liturgical events leading up to the singing of the Miserere by castrati, and all of the spiritual dimensions involved therein.

The plainsong and other works on the program by Palestrina, Gesualdo, Lassus, and Victoria were generally well done. The stamina of the singers to sing such a full program with such control was admirable and inspiring. Though a general lack of audible consonants led to incomprehensible diction, the Gregorian chant mostly sounded like a bland string of eighth-notes with the text taking a backseat, and the polyphony yearned to be freed from being busily conducted in smaller note values. It was a remarkable evening for listeners -- musically, intellectually, and emotionally -- to prepare for Holy Week.

Chantry will close its season with a complete performance of the monumental 10-voice Great Service by William Byrd (April 28, 8 pm), at St. Paul's K Street.

From Uchida With Love: Mozart in New York

Although classical radio in Washington has brought about an unexpected Haydn-renaissance on the airwaves (those 20-minute symphonies must make for very convenient programming), it’s still a joy to hear them in concert. Haydn (and Mozart) unclog the musical arteries (of the listener and the performers) and it is to the detriment of any symphony orchestra that neglects that part of the repertoire and leaves it to specialist- or chamber-orchestras.

The New York Philharmonic not only had both, Haydn (Symphony No. 85 “La Reine”) and Mozart (Piano Concerto No. 19, KV 459) on their program this week (March 22nd, 23rd, and 24th), but also programmed Schubert’s 4th Symphony – as if to show why the standard classical repertoire is so important. You can’t do Schubert justice if you can’t play Haydn reasonably well.

"London Symphonies" v.1 Davis

"London Symphonies" v.2 Davis

"London Symphonies" Böhm

"London Symphonies" v.1 Beecham

"London Symphonies" v.2 Beecham

True, even Sir Colin Davis (his recordings of the "London Symphonies" are among the finest, easily ranked alongside those of Karl Böhm and Sir Thomas Beecham) won’t turn the New York Philharmonic into a Haydn orchestra over the course of a week: Symphony No. 85 in B-flat Major was not particularly light-footed or spritely. But neither was it ever leaden. It had momentum, energy, and was – perhaps not inappropriately given the (then) massive Orchestre de la Loge Olympique it was composed for – imbued with plenty ‘settled dignity’. Not trying to knock your socks off… just pleasure and delightful as Haydn almost invariably is.

Schubert’s Fourth Symphony had the mass of the orchestra well applied, with that ease that had made the Haydn sound good breathing life into the symphony which itself sounds like the meaty continuation of the Haydn/Mozart tradition. Under Davis – here as elsewhere – everything sounded proper and in place; everything was above criticism. Enjoyment – of a very ‘safe’ and ad usum delphini kind - is virtually guaranteed with him. He gently elicits quality… he does not dig or squeeze it out of the orchestra. He takes what he can get from the players (which is plenty, in any case), but perhaps not more.

The highlight and heart of the concert, bookended by these two symphonies, was Mitsuko Uchida’s performance of the F-Major Piano Concerto. Lighter, still, than the Haydn, this playful and bubbly gem was played neither ‘dry and classical’, nor in any way romantically. Notes and rhythm were displayed, not color and tone – and it gently convinced - which is the art of Uchida in this repertoire. The leisurely Allegretto and the invigorating Allegro assai enjoyed the same attention and her delicate, diaphanous sound.

On Wednesday, March 28th, Sir Colin Davis will lead the New York Philharmonic in a concert with Mitsuko Uchida and Radu Lupu before the latter tackles the Mozart concerto No. 27 in a series of three concerts March 29th to 31st.

Quiz Time

An irresistible quiz from Soho the Dog--

1. Name an opera you love for the libretto, even though you don't particularly like the music.

Michael Nyman's The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat is such a great story, and the music is pretty good.

2. Name a piece you wish Glenn Gould had played.

Ives, Concord Sonata

3. If you had to choose: Charles Ives or Carl Ruggles?

See above. Bite me, Ruggles, you racist bastard.

4. Name a piece you're glad Glenn Gould never played.

Debussy, Etudes (well, at least I've never heard it)

5. What's your favorite unlikely solo passage in the repertoire?

The siren in George Antheil's Ballet mécanique

6. What's a Euro-trash high-concept opera production you'd love to see? (No Mortier-haters get to duck this one, either—be creative.)

Salome merged with Real Housewives of Orange County

7. Name an instance of non-standard concert dress you wish you hadn't seen.

Well, Sumi Jo wore three different gowns, which I guess are standard concert dress, at her recital last summer. Each one was more outrageous than the last: Jens desribed one as "half pastel Papagena, half tie-dye taffeta explosion."

8. What aging rock-and-roll star do you wish had tried composing large-scale chorus and orchestra works instead of Paul McCartney?

Brian May (and Queen).

9. If you had to choose: Carl Nielsen or Jean Sibelius?

Sibelius, as Opera Chic would say in that trendy slang of hers, is teh kicka$$ bomb, fer real.

10. If it was scientifically proven that Beethoven's 9th Symphony caused irreversible brain damage, would you still listen to it?

Yes, I would ignore the warning labels and then sue the recording company that sold me the CD.

Other responses:
Opera Chic | Joshua Kosman | Jessica Duchen | Alex Ross

Camerata Ireland and Barry Douglas

Available at Amazon: Prokofiev, Piano Sonatas 2/7, Various works, Barry Douglas (1991)

Back in my undergraduate years, my fellow piano students and I watched a documentary on Barry Douglas's astounding Gold Medal performance at the 1986 Tchaikovsky Competition. Awed by his forthright, forceful style of playing, I later bought and obsessively listened to his Prokofiev recording, while I was trying to play the Prokofiev second sonata. The strong arm of Barry Douglas was still in evidence during his Friday evening concert at the Library of Congress. The primary attraction of the program was the chance to hear Douglas and his chamber orchestra of Irish musicians, Camerata Ireland, play Beethoven's second piano concerto (B-flat major, op. 19). It was a rare chance to hear this sort of work, not in the vastness of a large hall with a large symphony orchestra, but in an intimate space, with Douglas conducting from the keyboard amid the orchestra, as Beethoven did when he composed this piece for himself to play.

In and of itself, however, the performance was less extraordinary than merely good. Standing in front of the lidless Steinway, with his back to the audience, Douglas conducted the orchestral exposition of the first movement in his agitated and slightly confusing manner. The musicians of Camerata Ireland come together occasionally from their jobs with other ensembles, which may also partially account for the general lack of unity in sound. Douglas played very well, which is not to say without any glitches, and the first movement's hellish cadenza was impressively rendered. The second movement was lovely, especially in that section where the piano accompanies a little wind serenade section, and the third was speedy and robust, with a playful lightness from the orchestra.

The first half was pleasant enough, with a vigorous and jolly reading of Mozart's 33rd symphony (B-flat major, K. 319). No reason was given as to why the group played this symphony instead of no. 25 in A major, which was announced, but the holograph score of no. 33 was on display in a case in the lobby. For a small group, the strings had an incisive forte sound, although the Mozart had a few horn splats and some dolorous string tuning issues. Elliott Carter's Elegy for String Orchestra was arranged in 1952 from two earlier string pieces from the 1940s, and it has about as much in common with the later, thorny Carter style as the music of Copland, Bernstein, or Barber (or Walter Piston, Carter's teacher at Harvard, for that matter). If a film studio executive had heard that piece and hired Carter to write movie soundtracks, American music might have been very different.

Unfortunately, this concert was connected to a cultural tourist pitch called Rediscover Northern Ireland, with concerts o' Oirish music a-plenty, saints be praised! About one-third of the relatively sparse audience had some connection to the Irish Embassy or other Irish organizations. (The audience showed itself to be unrelated to the normal Library of Congress concert-goer by applauding after every movement, to the point that Barry Douglas got visibly annoyed by having the start of the Beethoven concerto third movement delayed by applause, yet again.) The world premiere of David Morris's flute concerto The Magnificent Peak (still listed as "A commissioned work -- tba" on the Library's Web site) was the tie-in to the advertising brochures handed to the audience as we left. The piece, in part a setting of an Irish air, was not as terrible as I feared and featured the talented young flutist named Eimear McGeown. Encores included a waltz from Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings and -- who would have guessed -- a schmaltzy arrangement of Oh, Danny Boy.

What has happened to the programming at the Library of Congress? The next concert there really worth your attention is the Jerusalem String Quartet (April 11, 8 pm). In the last couple seasons, reviews of the Jerusalem Quartet by me and by Jens have been very positive.

In Brief

Here is your regular Sunday dosage of interesting items, from Blogville and beyond:

• Fred Himebaugh directed me to this episode of Saint Paul Sunday with Harry Christophers and The Sixteen. The program is like a Best of Catholic Polyphony -- and Fred did not even make one of his anti-Catholic jokes (although the host, Bill McGlaughlin, manages to get his ugly dig in) -- with pieces that, if we are lucky, we get to sing once a year at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The Lotti Crucifixus à 8, which The Sixteen sing right at the beginning of the program, is one of those pieces that most choral singers know and adore (we will sing it on Good Friday, of course). The host had never heard of it. [The Fredösphere]


• You have probably already read it, but in case you missed it, go now to Alex Ross's latest report on the somehow reviving corpse of classical music. [The Rest Is Noise]


• On the same topic, we anxiously await a new article by Billboard's Anastasia Tsioulcas, who has just reactivated her blog, after a hiatus of several months. The long silence only appeared silent on our end of the Internet tubes: she has been very busy with a new baby. Happy baby! [Cafe Aman]


• Leona Baker and her 5-year-old daughter participated as supernumeraries in a Virginia Opera production of Cavalleria Rusticana and I Pagliacci. Not only did they live to tell about it, but she wrote an entertaining article about the experience. (Hat tip, All About Opera.) [Portfolio Weekly]


• My beloved alma mater, the School of Music at Michigan State University, will be mounting a production of Daniel Catán's 1996 opera Florencia en el Amazonas next weekend. The composer is overseeing the performance in person. A live Webcast will be made available over the Internet during the Sunday performance (April 1, 2 pm), complete with interviews with the composer and performers. [MSU College of Music]


• Phil Ford will join the musicology faculty at Indiana University next fall. Chapeau! [Dial M for Musicology]


• Norman Lebrecht, who recently dismissed blogging outright, has -- wait for it ... -- started a blog. Why? Because "some of the amateurs out there [are] stealing our thunder." Someone feels threatened, I think... [Slipped Disc]


• Jens has been writing some great posts for the WETA blog. He and George Pieler also recently had a Letter to the Editor published on what is going on with the playlist at WETA, called "WETA as 'Ought To Be'." [The Connection Newspapers]

Perahia's Goldberg Variations

Available at Amazon: J. S. Bach, Goldberg Variations, Murray Perahia, piano (released on October 3, 2000)

Last year, Jens and I published a two-part round-up of a pile of recordings of Bach's Goldberg Variations. For my part, I professed the highest admiration for the Céline Frisch recording on harpsichord (Alpha, 2004). On the piano -- a mode of performance that I find perfectly acceptable, although I prefer the harpsichord -- I have always loved Glenn Gould's 1955 recording. There are some movements in that recording that no one is likely ever to surpass in terms of sheer virtuosity. I had previously heard Murray Perahia's recording, released in 2000, and liked it, but recently that recording has come across my desk for more intense -- even obsessive -- listening.

Perahia's athletic, dramatic reading makes evident all of the advantages that the modern piano has over the harpsichord, especially in broader ranges of dynamics, color, and articulation. One of the tests of a successful performance of Bach on the piano is whether the sound makes you think of how something would have sounded on the harpsichord -- for example, in the two-manual movements like Variation 8, which perforce are the result of a sort of trickery on the piano. One of the most difficult variations is the penultimate one -- Variation 29, just before the Quodlibet -- a mercurial toccata that Perahia hacks through like a buzzsaw. For all of Perahia's jaw-dropping bravura -- splashier than the always cool Gould -- there is refinement to be admired as well, in the playful embellishments on most of the repeats and the thoughtful understanding of underlying forms, like the giga in Variation 7 and the French overture in Variation 16.

Sony Classical SK/SM 89243