In 2012, I was fortunate enough to witness two incredible young pianists playing alongside each other - one as soloist and one as accompanist - in the Piano Concerto section of my local Eisteddfod. They were Konrad Olszewski and Stefan Cassomenos. Even in what one could say was the secondary role of accompanist, it was evident that Stefan was an extraordinary musician. They played one of my favorite concertos, Prokofiev's 3rd, and the whole experience was unforgettable. I was therefore very excited when I found out that both Stefan and Konrad had got into the Sydney International Piano Competition (SIPCA), and heartbroken when they didn't progress to the 2nd round.
I've just returned from the first recital I've heard Stefan play in person. This took place in the salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre, and I have to admit I much prefer this more intimate setting to the Elizabeth Murdoch Hall - the acoustic is beautiful and, in my opinion, far more flattering to the piano.
The closeness to the performer also gives me the opportunity to study a pianist's pedalling at close range, which I certainly did tonight.
I loved Stefan's choice of repetoire, some of which I'd already heard him play in SIPCA, and some of which he obviously learnt for SIPCA but didn't get the chance to perform due to not progressing past the first round. This included one of the Australian works commissioned for the competition, Carl Vine's Toccatissimo, with which Stefan opened the program and in which I would be completely confident to say his accuracy was 100%. For some reason I never fully appreciated this masterpiece when I heard it on the radio during SIPCA - I don't know whether it was never played particularly well (it's a technical monstrosity) or whether I was just so exhausted from hours of listening that I couldn't even take it in. But tonight, it left me fervently wishing I was able to compose like that - as did the 3 Ligeti etudes (Nos. 4, 11, and 8), during which I simply gaped the whole time.
After the Vine and before the Ligeti, Stefan played 3 Liszt etudes (Nos. 7, 11 and 8). I confess I'm not a fan of Liszt, but I marvelled at Stefan's technique in these extraordinarily difficult works. I particularly noted that Wilde Jagd, which I heard several times played by different pianists (including Stefan) during SIPCA, sounded distinctly more accurate than when I had heard him play it previously. In fact, I would venture to say it was 100% accurate.
Following the Liszt and Ligeti, Stefan played a Debussy etude (No. 11) which for some reason has left less of an impression on me than the other works on the program. I quite like Debussy, and I like that etude, but it didn't particularly stand out for me, perhaps because I was so busy anticipating the 5 Rachmaninov Etudes that followed.
When I hear what is, for me, a definitive interpretation of a work, from then on I never really like any other interpretation. This is how I feel about Ashkenazy's Rach Etudes, with one exception - Op. 39 No. 1, which I first heard played by Konrad Olszewski in SIPCA. Ever since then, no other interpretation of that etude has sounded right to me, and Stefan's interpretation of Op. 39 No. 1 doesn't quite cut it for me simply for that reason, but on some levels he has more technique than Konrad. It was interesting to hear how Stefan brought out melodies in this etude that I hadn't heard before.
At this point I can no longer put off discussing the one thing that struck me most about Stefan's playing this evening: his pedalling.
I was watching Stefan's feet the whole way through the recital, and was amazed to see that he frequently took the pedal completely off in technical passages where most pianists I've heard leave it down. Stefan used little to no pedal wherever he could, and only a pianist with impeccable technique can get away with the exposure this results in.
When he wasn't playing completely pedalless, Stefan changed the pedal frequently and subtly - sometimes fully changing, sometimes half or quarter-changing - so that there was always the utmost clarity. I was particularly struck by the way he used the sostenuto pedal in one piece to hold a bass chord while he played a
delicate, virtuosic passage in the right hand, completely without the damper pedal. This is the kind of pedalling technique that seems to have been forgotten, or has gone out of fashion, and of which Rachmaninov is the supreme example.
My only criticism of Stefan's pedalling is a fairly minor one. He has a way of very abruptly lifting his foot off the pedal. He never does this in the middle of passages - as many pianists I've heard do - but only when he comes to the end of a pedalled section. Often it's quite effective, if the music is agressive, since the 'clunk' of the pedal adds to the overall harshness. But occasionally he does it when the music is less suited to added clunking, and I don't like it. However, it's part of his playing style and insignificant in comparison to his otherwise extraordinary command of the pedal, which particularly made itself clear in the Rachmaninov etudes.
Most modern pianists I've heard pay little, if any, attention to pedalling, and I
gather that many judges don't either, considering some of the finalists
in competitions. It's refreshing to come across a pianist who grants the
pedal the importance it deserves. I reckon if we could hear Rachmaninov play his own etudes today, in person, his pedalling would not be unlike Stefan's. And as a self-confessed pedalling freak and Rachmaniac, that's more or less the highest praise I could give anyone.
Wednesday 26 June 2013
Sunday 16 June 2013
Concert Review: Valentina Lisitsa 8/6/13
I originally discovered Valentina Lisitsa when I came across her Chopin Etudes DVD on Youtube. To start with, I didn't like her all that much. I appreciated that she was an excellent pianist with formidable technique, but her style wasn't to my taste. It was only once I realised how she was revolutionising classical music through the use of social media that my respect for her really took off.
Gradually I began to realise what she was doing was very different: she talked about the music when she did a recital, tweeted to people in the audience, and was prepared to livestream her practise and performances to the whole world. Last but not least, whereas most pianists achieve fame by winning prestigious competitions at a tender age, Lisitsa's career took off via the internet when she was middle-aged, without the aid of any competitions (and the agents and record companies they entail) whatsoever.
The Royal Albert Hall recital was what finally made me a fan. I'd listened to Ashkenazy's Rach preludes CD, but his intepretation, while excellent, had never really communicated the essence of the music to me in the way Lisitsa's did. I felt like I was hearing the preludes for the first time. It was then that I decided to learn Op. 32 No. 10, and my obssession with Rachmaninov began.
Some time later I joined with hundreds of other pianists and music lovers around the world to watch Lisitsa livestreaming her 12 hours of practise a day, and later a performance of Rach 3. It was an amazing experience, not least because of the wonderful live chat board, where I was able to talk with fellow pianists around the world and discuss what Lisitsa was playing in real-time.
Last weekend, I flew to Brisbane for a couple of nights and saw Valentina Lisitsa perform at the Queensland Performing Arts centre. It was unforgettable, and a very different experience to other piano recitals I've been to. Lisitsa talked at length about the music, the composers, her own childhood and the reasons for her programming (which was refreshingly unconventional) before sitting down to play, straight through, 6 Rachmaninov preludes, followed by Prokofiev's 7th sonata (a personal favorite of mine) and then the Beethoven Appassionata. And that was just before interval. She didn't want applause between pieces, but couldn't prevent a few outbursts from the enthusiastic audience.
From the very first piece, I disliked the piano. Lisitsa favours Bosendorfers, and it's a pity she wasn't able to play on one, because the Steinway in the auditorium was poorly tuned (not out of tune exactly; just poorly tuned), unevenly voiced and jangly. However, Lisitsa was able to make it sound beautiful, especially as she warmed up.
Hearing her play the Rachmaninov preludes again since I'd gotten to know them better, I realised I didn't actually like her interpretation of Op. 32 no. 10, the prelude I learned. Some of the more technically challenging preludes were also a bit messy, but when a performer sees the bigger picture rather than focussing on the details, mistakes are unimportant, and Lisitsa certainly saw the bigger picture. In fact the Rach preludes were really just a warm-up, and the fact that Lisitsa was able to play 6 such challenging works to open a recital is indicative of her pianistic skill.
The Prokofiev sonata and Beethoven which followed were flawless - and very fast, something which seems to be Lisitsa's trademark. After interval, she spoke some more and then played 8 Chopin nocturnes. This time the audience managed to not applaud between pieces. Again, the bigger picture was of the utmost importance. I was particularly impressed with how Lisitsa had programmed the nocturnes according to key; she had obviously put a lot of thought into the order of the works, rather than simply arranging them chronologically (as most pianists do). It's practically unheard of to put a Op. 55 before an Op. 15.
The final piece on the program was Liszt's Totentanz. There are several recordings of Lisitsa playing this on Youtube, but I swear she played it better in this recital than I've heard in any of her recordings (in fact, I would say that about everything she played). It was interesting to hear Totentanz again since I wrote my own variation on Dies Irae - I know the plainchant melody so well now that I hear it everywhere, and this familiarity meant that Totentanz made a lot more sense to me than it had before; I suddenly heard it as a piece of music and not merely as a way for the pianist to show off.
There followed a well-deserved standing ovation and two encores. The first was Liszt's transcription of Schubert's Ave Maria, which was very beautiful. Amazingly, Lisitsa then played La Campanella - a piece I would hardly have considered appopriate encore material after such an exhausting program! But Lisitsa's stamina is unfailing and this, too, was stunning. I couldn't help comparing the ending with Gavrilov's, which I think someone on Youtube once tried to call the 'fastest La Campanella' or something like that. Gavrilov fakes it, and in the last few bars is basically just playing random notes as fast and loud as possible (don't get me wrong, I do actually like Gavrilov - just not his La Campanella.)
In any case, Lisitsa did NOT fake it. I would even go so far as to say her accuracy was 99.9 percent (I heard no mistakes, but I have to leave a .01 percent margin to cover the possibility - after all, there are a lot of notes....)
The thing that impressed me most about Lisitsa's performance was her incredible stamina. Even some of the best pianists tend to hold back when they have a big climax to reach in a piece, or if they know they have to play something very technically demanding later. Lisitsa never held back once - she kept playing with the same intensity, showing no signs of fatigue, and maintaining an incredible volume. The secret to this is complete relaxation: you can tell just by watching Lisitsa play that she is very, very relaxed. Of course, physical strength is also necessary, but strength is completely useless without relaxation, and that isn't as easy as it sounds. In fact, the inability to keep my arms and wrists sufficiently relaxed is probably the thing that holds back my technique the most.
I think a lot of young pianists (including myself) could benefit from taking a leaf out of Valentina Lisitsa's book by viewing a piece of music, and the challenges it entails, as a whole and thinking about the overall impression rather than worrying about every mistake; and RELAXING and letting their entire weight sink into the piano. Relaxation doesn't just improve stamina: it also results in a beautiful rich tone, something that is distinctly lacking in most of the pianists I hear in competitions.
Gradually I began to realise what she was doing was very different: she talked about the music when she did a recital, tweeted to people in the audience, and was prepared to livestream her practise and performances to the whole world. Last but not least, whereas most pianists achieve fame by winning prestigious competitions at a tender age, Lisitsa's career took off via the internet when she was middle-aged, without the aid of any competitions (and the agents and record companies they entail) whatsoever.
The Royal Albert Hall recital was what finally made me a fan. I'd listened to Ashkenazy's Rach preludes CD, but his intepretation, while excellent, had never really communicated the essence of the music to me in the way Lisitsa's did. I felt like I was hearing the preludes for the first time. It was then that I decided to learn Op. 32 No. 10, and my obssession with Rachmaninov began.
Some time later I joined with hundreds of other pianists and music lovers around the world to watch Lisitsa livestreaming her 12 hours of practise a day, and later a performance of Rach 3. It was an amazing experience, not least because of the wonderful live chat board, where I was able to talk with fellow pianists around the world and discuss what Lisitsa was playing in real-time.
Last weekend, I flew to Brisbane for a couple of nights and saw Valentina Lisitsa perform at the Queensland Performing Arts centre. It was unforgettable, and a very different experience to other piano recitals I've been to. Lisitsa talked at length about the music, the composers, her own childhood and the reasons for her programming (which was refreshingly unconventional) before sitting down to play, straight through, 6 Rachmaninov preludes, followed by Prokofiev's 7th sonata (a personal favorite of mine) and then the Beethoven Appassionata. And that was just before interval. She didn't want applause between pieces, but couldn't prevent a few outbursts from the enthusiastic audience.
From the very first piece, I disliked the piano. Lisitsa favours Bosendorfers, and it's a pity she wasn't able to play on one, because the Steinway in the auditorium was poorly tuned (not out of tune exactly; just poorly tuned), unevenly voiced and jangly. However, Lisitsa was able to make it sound beautiful, especially as she warmed up.
Hearing her play the Rachmaninov preludes again since I'd gotten to know them better, I realised I didn't actually like her interpretation of Op. 32 no. 10, the prelude I learned. Some of the more technically challenging preludes were also a bit messy, but when a performer sees the bigger picture rather than focussing on the details, mistakes are unimportant, and Lisitsa certainly saw the bigger picture. In fact the Rach preludes were really just a warm-up, and the fact that Lisitsa was able to play 6 such challenging works to open a recital is indicative of her pianistic skill.
The Prokofiev sonata and Beethoven which followed were flawless - and very fast, something which seems to be Lisitsa's trademark. After interval, she spoke some more and then played 8 Chopin nocturnes. This time the audience managed to not applaud between pieces. Again, the bigger picture was of the utmost importance. I was particularly impressed with how Lisitsa had programmed the nocturnes according to key; she had obviously put a lot of thought into the order of the works, rather than simply arranging them chronologically (as most pianists do). It's practically unheard of to put a Op. 55 before an Op. 15.
The final piece on the program was Liszt's Totentanz. There are several recordings of Lisitsa playing this on Youtube, but I swear she played it better in this recital than I've heard in any of her recordings (in fact, I would say that about everything she played). It was interesting to hear Totentanz again since I wrote my own variation on Dies Irae - I know the plainchant melody so well now that I hear it everywhere, and this familiarity meant that Totentanz made a lot more sense to me than it had before; I suddenly heard it as a piece of music and not merely as a way for the pianist to show off.
There followed a well-deserved standing ovation and two encores. The first was Liszt's transcription of Schubert's Ave Maria, which was very beautiful. Amazingly, Lisitsa then played La Campanella - a piece I would hardly have considered appopriate encore material after such an exhausting program! But Lisitsa's stamina is unfailing and this, too, was stunning. I couldn't help comparing the ending with Gavrilov's, which I think someone on Youtube once tried to call the 'fastest La Campanella' or something like that. Gavrilov fakes it, and in the last few bars is basically just playing random notes as fast and loud as possible (don't get me wrong, I do actually like Gavrilov - just not his La Campanella.)
In any case, Lisitsa did NOT fake it. I would even go so far as to say her accuracy was 99.9 percent (I heard no mistakes, but I have to leave a .01 percent margin to cover the possibility - after all, there are a lot of notes....)
The thing that impressed me most about Lisitsa's performance was her incredible stamina. Even some of the best pianists tend to hold back when they have a big climax to reach in a piece, or if they know they have to play something very technically demanding later. Lisitsa never held back once - she kept playing with the same intensity, showing no signs of fatigue, and maintaining an incredible volume. The secret to this is complete relaxation: you can tell just by watching Lisitsa play that she is very, very relaxed. Of course, physical strength is also necessary, but strength is completely useless without relaxation, and that isn't as easy as it sounds. In fact, the inability to keep my arms and wrists sufficiently relaxed is probably the thing that holds back my technique the most.
I think a lot of young pianists (including myself) could benefit from taking a leaf out of Valentina Lisitsa's book by viewing a piece of music, and the challenges it entails, as a whole and thinking about the overall impression rather than worrying about every mistake; and RELAXING and letting their entire weight sink into the piano. Relaxation doesn't just improve stamina: it also results in a beautiful rich tone, something that is distinctly lacking in most of the pianists I hear in competitions.
Wednesday 12 June 2013
Many a Rach 2
It's not uncommon for me to listen to lots of different recordings and interpretations of the same work. However, nothing can compare to the number of different recordings of Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto I've listened to. If I come across a recording of Rach 2 I haven't heard before, I just HAVE to listen to it. And then, preferably, compare it with all the other Rach 2 recordings I know of.
The following are some of the pianists I've heard play Rach 2:
Van Cliburn
Alexei Sultanov
Andrei Gavrilov
Alexander Gavrylyuk
Vladimir Ashkenazy
Yefim Bronfman
Sviatoslav Richter
Garrick Ohlsson
Evgeny Kissin
Ivo Pogorelich
Benno Moisewitch
Valentina Lisitsa
These are merely the recordings I can remember of the top of my head, and which left an impression on me. I find comparing them fascinating - especially 'vintage' recordings versus modern ones. I usually prefer the vintage recordings in every respect, especially with regards to the piano tone. In old recordings the piano sound is warmer and closer. In modern recordings the piano often sounds harsh, percussive and distant, and you can barely hear it over the orchestra. Gavrilov's recording is one of the worst examples of this, which is unfortunate since I admire his interpretation - it has a slightly out-of-control quality I find exhilarating. Valentina Lisitsa's recording suffers from a similar production problem: it's a superb recording of the orchestra, in which you can hear details notably lacking in other recordings - pizzicato, pianissimo strings, and very enthusiastic timpani - but very little piano!
Here are my 'top three' recordings of Rach 2:
Vladimir Ashkenazy
There is a curious story attached to this recording. I originally heard Ashkenazy's recording with, I think, Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw of Amsterdam. I hated it. The piano sounded awful.
I happened to come across a recording on Spotify recently with 'Andre Previn and Ashkenazy' listed as the artists. Unfortunately it didn't say who was the pianist and who the conductor. I searched in vain for the recording (a Decca Ovation: Rach 2 coupled with the Paganini Rhapsody). Eventually, I figured out that it could only be Ashkenazy playing, with Previn conducting the LSO. The recording is on Youtube, unfortunately chopped up into bits, but someone has put them all in this playlist for easy listening.
Ashkenazy's technique is flawless, and his interpretation incredibly sensitive. I really think Ashkenazy understands Rachmaninov better than anyone. The production is fantastic: the orchestra sounds great, but in no way swamps the piano, which has a beautiful tone and perfect clarity. Many recordings also lack the 'oomph' which Ashkenazy gives this concerto, and I do like a bit of oomph.
Van Cliburn
I first heard Van Cliburn's Rach 2 on Youtube and fell in love with his interpretation immediately; it's so warm and full of love for and understanding of the music. Cliburn takes all 3 movements a lot slower than is the norm, and I particularly admire this. His interpretation is romantic without being too sentimental. Above all, the recording - although old - is superb, and the piano crystal clear above the orchestra, which is something I look for in any concerto recording (and which is sadly lacking in many modern recordings.) This is my favorite version aside from Rachmaninov's own.
Rachmaninov
Before I go on, I should explain that there are actually 2 recordings of Rachmaninov himself playing Rach 2. Although almost identical in interpretation, the sound quality does differ a little: as one would expect, the (surprisingly rare) 1929 recording is somewhat higher quality than the 1927 recording.
Rachmaninov takes his own concerto incredibly fast. There's nothing wrong with this, and if I had Rachmaninov's technique I'd probably do the same, but I prefer the way Van Cliburn wallows in the music. However, aside from the tempo this recording is by far my favorite. Two things make it stand out particularly: the pedalless candenza (to date I have heard only one other pianist play the cadenza without pedal), and the fast 'Alla Marcia'. Pianists usually take this section way too slow (in my opinion), and it gets very laboured, detracting from the melody the orchestra plays underneath.
One of the things that distinguishes my 'top three' Rach 2 recordings from the rest is the absolute clarity of the piano part. Despite the low audio quality, there is still more piano detail audible in Rachmaninov's recording of Rach 2 than I have heard on many modern recordings. I don't know what they do differently these days, but the piano is always swamped by the orchestra. Perhaps there is also
the factor of technique - the clear, ambidextrous and under-pedalled style of playing which was prevalent during the earlier half of the 20th century, and of which Rachmaninov was the supreme example, is no longer fashionable. While there are still some more modern pianists who employ this technique, they are getting rarer and rarer, as is actually hearing the left hand in a recording of Rach 2. Coincidence? I think not.
Runners up include:
Yefim Bronfman - when I first started learning Rach 2, I hunted around for ages for the 'perfect' recording to buy. I was specifically looking for a modern recording, since I wanted to be able to play along with it and many of the older recordings are a slightly lower pitch. I chose Bronfman's due to the superb production. His technique is absolutely flawless, but the interpretation isn't particularly interesting.
Alexander Gavrylyuk - one of my favorite young pianists. His interpretation is original and beautiful, but I can't seem to get hold of the recording anywhere - all I can find is a couple of excerpts on youtube. I love the clarity of his playing. As I mentioned earlier, that kind of technique is rare in modern pianists.
Garrick Ohlsson - a really brilliant pianist I didn't even know about before I went to a concert where he played a Beethoven concerto. His recording of Rach 2 (which I can only find samples of on Amazon) is excellent. Listen to the sample of the final movement...!!!
The following are some of the pianists I've heard play Rach 2:
Van Cliburn
Alexei Sultanov
Andrei Gavrilov
Alexander Gavrylyuk
Vladimir Ashkenazy
Yefim Bronfman
Sviatoslav Richter
Garrick Ohlsson
Evgeny Kissin
Ivo Pogorelich
Benno Moisewitch
Valentina Lisitsa
These are merely the recordings I can remember of the top of my head, and which left an impression on me. I find comparing them fascinating - especially 'vintage' recordings versus modern ones. I usually prefer the vintage recordings in every respect, especially with regards to the piano tone. In old recordings the piano sound is warmer and closer. In modern recordings the piano often sounds harsh, percussive and distant, and you can barely hear it over the orchestra. Gavrilov's recording is one of the worst examples of this, which is unfortunate since I admire his interpretation - it has a slightly out-of-control quality I find exhilarating. Valentina Lisitsa's recording suffers from a similar production problem: it's a superb recording of the orchestra, in which you can hear details notably lacking in other recordings - pizzicato, pianissimo strings, and very enthusiastic timpani - but very little piano!
Here are my 'top three' recordings of Rach 2:
Vladimir Ashkenazy
There is a curious story attached to this recording. I originally heard Ashkenazy's recording with, I think, Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw of Amsterdam. I hated it. The piano sounded awful.
I happened to come across a recording on Spotify recently with 'Andre Previn and Ashkenazy' listed as the artists. Unfortunately it didn't say who was the pianist and who the conductor. I searched in vain for the recording (a Decca Ovation: Rach 2 coupled with the Paganini Rhapsody). Eventually, I figured out that it could only be Ashkenazy playing, with Previn conducting the LSO. The recording is on Youtube, unfortunately chopped up into bits, but someone has put them all in this playlist for easy listening.
Ashkenazy's technique is flawless, and his interpretation incredibly sensitive. I really think Ashkenazy understands Rachmaninov better than anyone. The production is fantastic: the orchestra sounds great, but in no way swamps the piano, which has a beautiful tone and perfect clarity. Many recordings also lack the 'oomph' which Ashkenazy gives this concerto, and I do like a bit of oomph.
Van Cliburn
I first heard Van Cliburn's Rach 2 on Youtube and fell in love with his interpretation immediately; it's so warm and full of love for and understanding of the music. Cliburn takes all 3 movements a lot slower than is the norm, and I particularly admire this. His interpretation is romantic without being too sentimental. Above all, the recording - although old - is superb, and the piano crystal clear above the orchestra, which is something I look for in any concerto recording (and which is sadly lacking in many modern recordings.) This is my favorite version aside from Rachmaninov's own.
Rachmaninov
Before I go on, I should explain that there are actually 2 recordings of Rachmaninov himself playing Rach 2. Although almost identical in interpretation, the sound quality does differ a little: as one would expect, the (surprisingly rare) 1929 recording is somewhat higher quality than the 1927 recording.
Rachmaninov takes his own concerto incredibly fast. There's nothing wrong with this, and if I had Rachmaninov's technique I'd probably do the same, but I prefer the way Van Cliburn wallows in the music. However, aside from the tempo this recording is by far my favorite. Two things make it stand out particularly: the pedalless candenza (to date I have heard only one other pianist play the cadenza without pedal), and the fast 'Alla Marcia'. Pianists usually take this section way too slow (in my opinion), and it gets very laboured, detracting from the melody the orchestra plays underneath.
One of the things that distinguishes my 'top three' Rach 2 recordings from the rest is the absolute clarity of the piano part. Despite the low audio quality, there is still more piano detail audible in Rachmaninov's recording of Rach 2 than I have heard on many modern recordings. I don't know what they do differently these days, but the piano is always swamped by the orchestra. Perhaps there is also
the factor of technique - the clear, ambidextrous and under-pedalled style of playing which was prevalent during the earlier half of the 20th century, and of which Rachmaninov was the supreme example, is no longer fashionable. While there are still some more modern pianists who employ this technique, they are getting rarer and rarer, as is actually hearing the left hand in a recording of Rach 2. Coincidence? I think not.
Runners up include:
Yefim Bronfman - when I first started learning Rach 2, I hunted around for ages for the 'perfect' recording to buy. I was specifically looking for a modern recording, since I wanted to be able to play along with it and many of the older recordings are a slightly lower pitch. I chose Bronfman's due to the superb production. His technique is absolutely flawless, but the interpretation isn't particularly interesting.
Alexander Gavrylyuk - one of my favorite young pianists. His interpretation is original and beautiful, but I can't seem to get hold of the recording anywhere - all I can find is a couple of excerpts on youtube. I love the clarity of his playing. As I mentioned earlier, that kind of technique is rare in modern pianists.
Garrick Ohlsson - a really brilliant pianist I didn't even know about before I went to a concert where he played a Beethoven concerto. His recording of Rach 2 (which I can only find samples of on Amazon) is excellent. Listen to the sample of the final movement...!!!
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