by Bernard Michael O'Hanlon
Russians might be mad, bad and dangerous to know but there are not a few saints and geniuses among their ranks: Switzerland in its blandness they ain't. Put a latter-day Rasputin in charge of Nestle or UBS and it might redress matters.
Other than his sterling work in the Art of the Fugue, Grigory Sokolov was but a name to me. What a dolt I was: here is another prodigy from Scythia. This Schubert came my way from a friend. It unhorsed me on the spot. Sokolov has fingers of steel. While it is the least of concerns, blemishes are stupendously rare in this live concert. His technique is not divorced from poetry - far from it. As another reviewer commented, Sokolov knows what he wants to say and stupendously says it. He is thoroughly attuned to Schubert the Ever-Wanderer with no family or abode.
This is easily the best D 894 I have ever heard. Schumann steadfastly maintained that it was Schubert's greatest sonata. I am almost persuaded so by this performance. Every bar pulsates with life and purpose and does so in light of the overarching structure. Then there is the tempi: for 'slow' read 'dreamlike'. I always judge D 894s by the self-contained episode in the finale some three minutes in when Schubert muses wistfully on the passing spectacle of material things. Sokolov is equal to the challenge: oh, what poetry he evokes. How did Schubert ever find the courage to write such things? Walt Whitman was hardly being original when he declaimed `O past! O happy life! O songs of joy!'
Far more than its Sibelian counterpart, Schubert's last sonata could serve as the incidental music to the Tempest.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
And yet in this mighty work, Schubert affirms life and memory over the nothingness. My lodestar in D 960 is Kempff's performance from January 1967 where he eviscerates Time itself. There's nothing like it in discography and it is the best thing Kempff ever did. Solokov runs him damn close: every note and phrase is illuminated by stillness, renunciation and valediction. The Russian is preferable in the Scherzo where his German counterpart is too portly.
Gun stuff. The recording is lifelike. Good night Maurizio and don't bother me again.
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Works on This Recording
1.
Sonata for Piano in G major, D 894/Op. 78
by Franz Schubert
■ Performer: Grigory Sokolov (Piano)
■ Period: Romantic
■ Written: 1826; Vienna, Austria
■ Date of Recording: 08/1992
■ Venue: Finlandia Hall, Helsinki Festival
■ Length: 39 Minutes 20 Secs.
2.
Sonata for Piano in B flat major, D 960
by Franz Schubert
■ Performer: Grigory Sokolov (Piano)
■ Period: Romantic
■ Written: 1828; Vienna, Austria
■ Date of Recording: 08/1992
■ Venue: Finlandia Hall, Helsinki Festival
■ Length: 43 Minutes 17 Secs.
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Credits
Composed By – Schubert
Executive Producer, Engineer – Yolanta Skura
Liner Notes – Bryce Morrison
Photography By – Johanna Löwenhamn
Piano – Grigory Sokolov
Notes
Digipak
℗ 1996 © 2003 Naïve
Live recording: Finlandia Hall, Helsinki Festival, August 1992.
Barcode and Other Identifiers
Barcode: 709861303878