Daniel Barenboim Plays Beethoven, Take 3

[Todd]

Daniel Barenboim has joined the elitist of elite categories, at least as far as complete cycles of Beethoven’s sonatas are concerned. He has recorded the cycle three times, a feat otherwise accomplished only by Alfred Brendel. (Or maybe not. An Andante box refers to three complete cycles by Friedrich Gulda, meaning one has not been released, and I’ve read from a not necessarily reliable source that Maurizio Pollini has recorded three complete cycles but has nixed their release(s).) That doesn’t necessarily mean that Barenboim’s interpretations are among the best in this most august canon, but at least he has shown a dedication to the music, and one can hear how his approach has changed over time. I have written about his prior EMI cycle already, and I have listened to his 1980s cycle on DG a couple times now, and if I ever find the time to write about it, I will, but for now I decided I might as well write about his brand spankin’ new set on EMI. On DVD!

That’s part of the attraction, of course, this being the first complete AV cycle to make it to market. Truth to tell, I don’t really care about the ‘V’ part; I’m all about the ‘A.’ (It’s really inconvenient: how am I supposed to listen to this set at work or while on the road?) Plenty of other people may get excited about the prospect of finally seeing a pianist play the works, though, and for them this is a first. So this may or may not be a must-get cycle for non-musical reasons.

The cycle was performed in a series of eight concerts in Berlin in the Staatsoper Unter den Linden in June and July 2005. I don’t know if any studio touch ups were made afterward, but that’s not really too important, at least to me. For the most part, this is a “live” cycle, with all that implies. What it often implies is some memory lapses, extraneous noise, and, most importantly, more energy of the type that only comes when an artist plays in front of an audience. The first two traits are largely absent, though the last one is not. That in turn implies something worth hearing. And possibly watching.

Rather than cover the sonatas chronologically, this time around I’m going to report on them as they appear on disc, concert by concert. And the first concert’s a goodun, at least from a repertoire standpoint: Op 2/1, 31/3 and 106. Barenboim opens the cycle with Beethoven’s first sonata – always a good idea. Right from the start one can hear that this cycle is different from both prior cycles, though one can hear echoes of both of them, too. The Allegro opens vigorously, with a nicely brisk tempo and unusually clear playing, as one generally expects from this pianist. The slower sections sound notably slower, so as to add as much contrast as possible. Some may find the contrasts contrived, others not. I’m mostly in the latter camp. Decidedly slower is the Adagio, which is very slow. It almost sounds exaggerated, particularly when compared to the first movement. But it sounds lovely and precise, and, once again, Barenboim plays with exemplary clarity. I found myself wishing the music would flow just a little bit better, but listening to it isn’t exactly hard to do. The Menuetto sticks with a broad overall tempo, which in turn results in startling dynamic and tonal contrasts when the fast, descending upper register figures arrive. The overall effect is to make the movement slightly stormy, an effect enhanced by the charming middle section. Barenboim takes the concluding Prestissimo at a nice tempo, though I suppose it could be faster. One thing is certain: the playing is stormy. Another thing is also certain: the playing is strong. There’s energy and drama aplenty, with near ideal clarity at all times. Throw in a gentler, more beautiful middle section for contrast, and one is left with a much more than solid open to the cycle. A strong case could be made for this being the best opener of Barenboim’s three cycles.

Op 31/3 reinforces the positive first impression. Barenboim opens the Allegro in a stately and relaxed fashion, then segues to more energetic but never pressed playing. While there are slight hints of mischief, the overall mien is a bit on the serious side. Throughout, subtle dynamic, tonal, and tempo changes add color to the music, and the movement ends with powerfully played chords. The Scherzo is a corker: fast, scampering, with nicely judged chords (strong but not overpowering ) to interrupt the flow, it really sounds fine. No, it’s not caution to the wind playing, and outright fun is in short supply, but it’s still superb. Some potential troubles pop up in the Menuetto. Stately and lovely, it may sound too manicured for some tastes. Some of the dynamic transitions can sound a bit stiff, depending on what one listens for, but in the context of this performance, they work very well. The Presto con fuoco ends the work on a very strong note. Fast, filled with pep, and almost fun, Barenboim brings it home. Great dynamic contrasts and superbly clean fingerwork and a sense of inevitability make this one heck of an end. As with the first sonata, one could argue that this is the best of Barenboim’s three takes. Could it be because these are taken from concerts?

Quite possibly, because the same thing can be written about the Hammerklavier. As with his prior recordings, Barenboim uses broad tempi throughout the work, but also like his prior recordings, he pulls it off. Only better. The Allegro sounds grand and orchestral enough to satisfy Big Sound fans, yet it’s incisive enough for those wanting more bite and clarity. I find that this recording flows better than the prior two, the first in particular, while maintaining the benefits of the big ‘n’ slow approach. There’s a certain lightness to it, by which I mean it’s not at all ponderous. Something else that’s missing is Barenboim’s breathtaking clarity, at least in fast passages. Barenboim isn’t a kid anymore, and some of the more complex passages present more of a challenge to him now. It’s not that’s he’s sloppy or misses a whole lot, but something had to give, and it’s clarity. Not in the slower music, though – it’s to a very high standard. That Time is winning is also made clear in the rougher, less precise, less sculpted sound. But – and this is a biggie – it sounds more alive, more vital, despite the changes. (Or maybe because of them?) The same more or less holds true for the Scherzo, with its broad tempo, powerful (though not overwhelming) playing, and its “chunky” sound. Where Barenboim shined as a young man he also shines as a more mature artist: the Adagio is wonderful. Only more so. The playing is slow but pregnant with drama and tragedy from the get-go, though it never just pours forth in sloppy fashion. The even slower second section sounds both pensive and tense, and while slow, the musical line not only never breaks, it never even slackens. The movement gradually morphs into a solitary lament – a fact (or impression, I guess) that really only hit me around 10’ in – then it changes again to placid rumination, all while effortlessly maintaining the musical line. It defies gravity, if you will, in the best late-LvB fashion. The coda ends up sounding like a distended, sad farewell. Superb. The final movement opens with a clear, lucid, at times dexterous Largo which then changes over to a fugue of superb clarity. No surprise there. The music assumes a brighter demeanor than I thought it would, and Barenboim’s technique seems more assured here than in the opening movement, a few brusque or slightly rough patches notwithstanding. The tempo always sounds just right – never pressed, never too slow – and the slow, baroque passage is played in a wonderfully serene manner. A rousing coda wraps up a superb Hammerklavier.

The first concert must be considered a success. I prefer Barenboim’s 2005 take on all three sonatas more than either of his prior takes. Make no mistake, though, this is Daniel Barenboim at the keyboard, and certain traits remain. He never really pushes any tempi, so those who want him to let loose will not be happy. His style can sound overly manicured and even precious at times, though there’s less of that this time around. Barenboim’s tonal palate is broad, but not as broad as before, though that is influenced by the recording. Overall, I’m quite happy and want to hear more. Hopefully I can, um, attend another concert in the next day or two.

To production values, they’re to a high level, but not the highest level. Image quality is very good, though a number of operas I have surpass it (like Gardiner’s Les Troyens). Sound is close – one can see how close the various microphone arrays are – and at times the upper registers are a touch too bright and clangy and metallic, and the sound lacks some bass oomph when it ought not too, and quite a few pedal stomps can be heard. These are quibbles. I have more serious reservations about the videography. There are close-ups of Barenboim’s face from various angles, and close-ups and even closer close-ups of his hands throughout the concert. I don’t need to see his cuticles, and I can probably do without seeing so much sweat, and I can certainly do without the Holy Skewed Angle Batman! views of those ten fingers that pop up all the time. I did find one way to avoid distraction – I shut my eyes for extended stretches. I may end up leaving the television off at some point during the cycle. Anyway, the musical message still gets across, and that’s what counts.

 

[Todd]

The second concert opens with Beethoven’s second sonata. Not a bad choice. (Okay, Barenboim had 32 good choices to choose from.) And as before, Barenboim sounds slightly freer and more flowing than in his studio bound efforts, his first one in particular. The Allegro vivace moves along at a nice pace, though he takes some passages at a slow pace for variety. The middle section is weighty and offers a nice contrast to the surrounding music. At times the playing can sound just a bit precious, or what might be construed as precious. The Largo is slow, slow, slow, but then it is a Largo. Barenboim plays with great precision and deliberateness, and imbues the music with ample dynamic and tempo changes. It’s not quite stiff and not quite flowing; it can and does sound a bit artificial, but in a most artful way. The third movement is plucky and perky, clearly articulated, and fun, if still a bit formal at times. The last movement is light and breezy and smooth and flowing, generally speaking, with a nicely vibrant middle section. All told, this is well played and once again represents an improvement over the studio cycles.

The Tempest follows, and here one can have intermittent doubts. The opening arpeggio of the Largo is slow and rich and generally quite fine, though the music that immediately follows it sounds a bit stiff. The second arpeggio, not surprisingly, is also quite fine, then Barenboim moves into the faster meat of the movement very well – the playing sounds vibrant and vigorous and urgent. Others sound more intense here, but this works. Indeed, this is yet another case where the live performance seems to trump the studio versions. The doubts come in the Adagio. Don’t get me wrong, it’s superbly played and sounds wonderful, but rarely if ever does the playing seem to delve beneath the surface. The music sounds glossed over a bit. Some will hate it, some will love it, others (like me) will like it, with reservations. The concluding Allegretto opens with forlorn horn calls that quickly evolve into playing of some urgency. The most musically robust patches can sound a bit strained and stiff, but then Barenboim will slow up and quiet things down and play with uniquely intriguing ghostly restraint before returning to a (not quite blazing) gallop. This is a good reading, but I can’t really say it’s as good as the third sonata from the bunch or a contender compared to the greats.

The second little Op 14 sonata comes next, and what a fine version it is! The Allegro sounds smooth, soothing, and lyrical – perhaps coy to some – and boasts superbly light, fast, and clear runs. More drive arrives in the middle section, but overall the opening movement sounds wonderfully graceful and flowing. The Andante comes across as a slightly variegated march characterized mostly by an emphatic yet soft beat and gentle overall character. Barenboim closes with a Scherzo as light and charming and flowing as the opening movement. This is a delightful performance.

The concert closes with the Les Adieux sonata. The opening Adagio comes across as cool and remote but still despondent. This is another case where some may very well find Barenboim’s playing too manicured. Anyway, as the piece swells during the Allegro, an appropriately celebratory sound ensues, though one riddled with resignation. Throughout, Barenboim plays with splendid dynamic and tonal variation, something he does pretty much all the time. The Andante espressivo is more emotionally engaging than the opening movement, though I’d hardly describe it as heart-on-sleeve music making. Still, Barenboim conveys a sense of inner sadness and turmoil, and the coda is simply breathtaking, with whisper quiet chords trailing off into silence. To close, Barenboim plays the Vivacissimamente wonderfully. It opens in a wonderfully swelling, grand, and ebullient manner, though informed by a very proper sensibility. It maintains this approach more or less to the end, with a quasi-orchestral sound part of the payoff. It may not be one of the very best versions yet committed to disc, but this is a fine version that ends a fine concert. I certainly hope the next six concerts are as good (or better!) than the first two.

 

[Todd]

The third concert opens with a Big Name work – the Pathetique – and this version is the best of Barenboim’s four recordings of the piece. The Grave opens with a near perfect chord, strong but not fortissimo thunder, then moves on to somewhat slow and definitely deliberate playing that, when alternated with that strong chord, expertly builds up tension until the beginning of the Allegro molto e con brio. The Allegro section is then suitably swift, with superb dynamic contrasts, especially from the right hand. Contrary to his prior recordings, this one flows and stays satisfyingly fast throughout, with only a few, very effective slow sections for contrast. (I generally prefer a fast Op 13, so keep that in mind.) After a nice, strong end, Barenboim plays the Adagio cantabile in a most ingratiating manner. It’s slow, clear, meticulous, and calm. As the movement progresses, the music takes on a stately feel. It’s here where some may find the playing contrived, but I like it. The concluding Rondo opens in bright, clear, and on the broad side of fast style, and as the movement progresses, Barenboim hammers out some notes here and there which, when combined with the nice tonal and tempo variation, creates a most satisfying take. Barenboim still doesn’t ascend to the heights in this work, but he’s moved up the mountain.

He’s much nearer the peak in the Op 26. I figured that after hearing Gerard Willems’ breathtaking account of this sonata only a matter of weeks ago I’d be waiting for another contender. (I hope to cover Willems’ cycle in the near future.) I was wrong. Barenboim opens with an Andante as poised and attractive as one could wish for, and as usual, his playing sounds as clear as one could want. The first variation acts as an extension of the opening theme, while the second sounds quick and plucky and enthusiastic, with a nice, brief, loud outburst thrown in for good measure; the third variation is somber and serious, a sort of mini-funeral march, while the fourth sounds light and crisp and choppy; the fifth is lyrical and rich and mesmerizingly clear. The Scherzo is downright brisk and superbly accented to open, and things only pick up from there. The runs are vital and dexterous, and plenty of rhythmic snap pervades the playing. Then the core of the work arrives, and Barenboim plays a funeral march fit for a hero. Somber and tense to open, Barenboim plays with world-class oomph, emphasizing the grandiose nature of the music, and in the middle section he accelerates the playing nicely. The closing Allegro opens at a nice pace, but sounds a bit flat compared to what came before. Quibbles quickly fade as the playing picks up the pace and the dynamic range. A very strong and controlled middle section before a potent end caps it off. There are better versions out there – by Willems, Frank, and Michelangeli to name three – but this is a contender.

Next up is the little Op 79. Barenboim plays the Presto alla tedesca in a very crisp, forward moving fashion, though he tends to underplay the cuckoo motif. The off key passage is delivered well, and the whole thing sounds, well, whole. The Andante sounds quick and slightly light, lean, and taut, at least compared to others who make this a meaty movement, and the middle section sounds simply lovely. The concluding Vivace opens in a light, leisurely mood, moves to a playful and leisurely style, then returns to the opening approach. Quite good. Perhaps not great, but quite good.

Straight to the top tier goes Barenboim’s Op 101, though. No kidding. This is a great performance. The Allegretto ma non troppo may even be slightly faster than normal (very slightly), or at least Barenboim’s playing makes it sound that way. Additionally, the playing sounds rich, flows well, and displays a restrained lyricism. The Vivace alla Marcia explodes out of the gate, though here Barenboim’s usually unimpeachable clarity can in fact be impeached! The trade-off is more drive and oomph. I like drive and oomph. Especially in a march. It’s vital, it’s flowing, it’s beefy, it’s nifty. The Adagio switches gears into a slightly somber mood, where the playing seems to float in the ether, or nearly so. It’s quiet and searching, and that works well indeed. The concluding Allegro then arrives with a striking trill and even more striking left hand chords. The playing is fast, with remarkable clarity and articulation and drive and, yes, more oomph. At the same time, the music sounds just a tad light. Barenboim doesn’t try to make this the Maestoso from Op 111. No, he makes it sound joyous at times. And vital. Throw in myriad wonderful little touches, like the veritable swirls of notes just after 5’30”, and one gets a damned fine recording. Dare I write great recording? I dare.

After roughly a third of the canon, I must report that I find this cycle to be the best of Barenboim’s three efforts. He may disappoint me in the remaining 21 works, but I doubt it. I’ll find out soon enough.


-

 

[Todd]

The fourth concert opens with Op 10/1, and as before Barenboim delivers the best version I’ve heard from him. The opening arpeggio is both stronger and faster than I would have previously expected, and the sound remains rich and clear, if also a bit flat. The second theme is suitably slower, remarkably clear (especially when the repeated bass figure underpins the music) and probably better than the opening music. And it flows. The Adagio molto sounds slow, rich, and luxurious, but the runs remain light and fast, and dynamic contrasts are fine, and the overall sound is undeniably lovely. As happens on more than one occasion, though, the playing is not maximally involving. The Prestissimo opens quickly, boasts very swift runs, and then seamlessly transitions to slightly broad and irresistibly flexible playing. The playing sounds both vital and pliant, a most becoming combo. At times it seems like Barenboim may actually let loose. An excellent take.

Next up is the 11th sonata, and here Barenboim again delivers the best version I’ve heard from him, though here it’s by a pretty wide margin. The Allegro con brio opens in reasonably swift fashion, continues to display admirably flexibility, and it not only flows, but it grooves. (Barenboim can’t match Gulda in this regard, but still.) Smack dab in the middle one gets to hear playing that’s fast and lithe and spiffy. Following up the fine first movement is an Adagio con molto espressione characterized by deliberate, slow, and beautiful playing of not a whole lot of depth. That’s fine here, though, because that means the music doesn’t sound overthought. As the movement progresses, the playing becomes cooler and darker, taking on an almost quietly ominous air. The last portion of the movement sounds lovely, like the opening, but it also sounds more distant. The Menuetto opens gently, and sounds smooth, light, and uplifting. The more vigorous music, especially in the middle section, is strong but not overwhelming, driven but not manic. It’s quite good. To close, Barenboim opens the Rondo in light, leisurely, and charming fashion, before he moves into a middle section where he delivers potent chords and fast, scampering playing, all while maintaining uncommon clarity. The playing in the last portion of the movement sounds exaggeratedly slow at times, but so what? Another fine reading, though one bound to divide opinion.

The two little Op 49 sonatas follow, and Barenboim does a generally excellent job here. The first sonata opens with an Andante that remains clear and light and lyrical, yet also manages to sound just a bit substantive. The Rondo sounds unabashedly happy and fun and energetic. The second sonata keeps the same sound in the Allegro ma non troppo, and throws in some nice bass weight, too. The closing Tempo di Menuetto sounds slower and gentler, but stays lyrical, and shows just how well Barenboim can control the bottom end of the dynamic spectrum. Such wonderfully diverse quiet playing is always nice to hear. I don’t know if I’d consider either one a world beater, but hey, they’re nice.

The program ends with the mighty Appassionata. Here’s one work where Barenboim just didn’t produce a great or exceptional or even appreciably above average reading in either of his two prior cycles. He does much better here. The Allegro assai opens in a slightly brooding style hinting at fierier things to come. When they do come, Barenboim delivers. With qualifications. Yes, the faster, more intense playing sounds nicely swift and intense, but it’s still somewhat restrained. The slower playing is notably broad and rich. Throw in numerous minor variations in tempo and dynamics, and Barenboim seems to be manhandling the piece, albeit while wearing velvet gloves. Some will find it mannered. They won’t (or wouldn’t) find the satisfyingly thundering bass and occasional intensity mannered, though. Except in the very loudest passages, Barenboim maintains his exemplary clarity, and he brings the movement to a superb end with a massive build-up to the coda. The Andante con moto sounds solemn and achieves an almost static feel at times. It also sounds aloof much of the time. The fast variation doesn’t sound particularly fast, but the overall effect is to offer a movement that contrasts significantly with the outer movements. In that regard it succeeds. Especially when one hears the concluding Allegro ma non troppo. Strong but not crushing opening chords transform quickly into playing that is fast and intense, with the playing only ratcheting up in intensity until it becomes very fast, pungent and nearly grinding. (He never achieves quite the level of intensity of, say, Annie, but that’s alright.) And there’s more than ample vitality; restraint is largely thrown to the wind here. The only downside to the movement is that Barenboim omits the repeat. Why? The movement needs it! Without it, it sounds unfinished. Had he included the repeat, this would be even better than it is, and it’s pretty damn good. I need to listen to some more.

 

[Todd]

The fifth concert opens with the great seventh sonata, and what a nice time to hear it, so close to Angela Hewitt’s rather dissimilar take. Differences aren’t apparent in the opening seconds as Barenboim opens the Presto quite quickly, with notable energy, and even some gruff (!) playing, so rare for him. Wait but a few seconds, and Barenboim begins to deploy his standard devices in the slower music, adding color and nuance and subtlety. Some may find it too much, though. But throw in superb clarity for most of the movement, and really, how can one resist? The Largo shows just how effective Barenboim is at imparting a sense of mood in a few notes. The superbly controlled and “expressive” playing very heavily hints at tragedy, but of a somewhat manufactured kind. There’s melodrama and an occasional thickness that may leave some less happy, and yet others may hear in this a saccharine romanticism that turns them away, but I like it. The Menuetto has a very soft, sweet opening, then quickly picks up speed and energy, but it never sounds rushed or anything other than pleasant. Even the big, beefy middle section sounds pleasant. Barenboim opens the concluding Rondo with a slightly broad tempo but quickly and seamlessly changes to a lighter, quicker style that’s all sun and fun. Well, except for the big, bold, assertive Beethoven that shows up later and finds Barenboim hammering away in satisfying fashion. Being live, a few things don’t sound as polished as they otherwise might, but that’s good. Yes, a nice start to a concert.

The second work is the first of the sonatas quasi una fantasia, and I so wanted a knock-out reading. Alas, ‘twas not to be. (That’s not to say it’s bad.) The Andante theme sounds positively wonderful. Ever so slightly on the broad side, with superb tonal shading and dynamic nuance, and supreme control, it sounds almost like a lost, late Mozart fantasy, emboldened and embellished by the Bonn master. The second theme is decidedly “big” and quasi-orchestral, and works well. It’s in the Allegro where doubts arise. It’s just a wee bit too slow and some of the phrasing sounds exaggerated, though not in an entirely unpleasant way. The second section here is more forceful, though, but it’s also more forced. The Adagio, somewhat against expectation, sounds rich and somber and lovely, and then Barenboim moves into the last part of the work with a nicely paced second try at an Allegro and an even-more-lovely-than-before pass at the main slow theme. There are good parts, wonderful parts, and so-so or not so good parts. It never jells into a truly satisfying whole.

Next up is the Op 90 sonata, and as with the first work in the concert, Barenboim plays in a style some may not fancy. The opening movement sounds bold and rich but not overwrought when played loud and lovely and tonally variegated in a most pleasing manner when played more quietly. The long, fast run is superb, and the more urgent passages take on the just the right degree of angst mixed with late-LvB goodness. The second movement really is where some may have issues. It’s lyrical and beautiful and a bit contrived. More immediacy would have been nice, but the supreme control and unfailing lyricism still work well enough.

The concert closes with the Waldstein. This is the best of the three versions Barenboim has recorded. I’ll just get that out the way right now. It’s not “perfect,” and there are some nits to pick, but this is one fine reading. The Allegro con brio opens swiftly, in well articulated fashion, in contrast to Paul Lewis’ less enthralling open to the same piece. Barenboim makes sure to take the time to let things breathe when needed, and throughout the movement the music waxes and wanes in scale and breadth effortlessly. Barenboim will go right ahead and play at different dynamic levels simultaneously – and uncommonly clearly – to superb effect, especially when he plays the right hand melodies quickly and comparatively lightly while underpinning the proceedings with a beefy left hand. Every aspect of the playing is sublimely controlled without any garishness or excess gilding of the lily, if you will. Of course, others may demur. The Introduzione offers a stark contrast to not only the opener, but to many other takes. It sounds slow and funereal at the outset, yet it also manages to sound mellifluous and, well, golden. Granted, this can be construed as a surface effect, but what an effect! And then, before you know it, the movement ends! No foolin.’ It floats by. The concluding Rondo finds Barenboim playing in his best quasi-orchestral style, but not before he should. The movement starts off slowly and gently and only gradually builds up in tension before erupting – and erupt it does – into its orchestral grandeur on the heels of a magnificently dispatched long trill. At times Barenboim plays seemingly without restraint, or at least with a shrewdly calculated facsimile of romantic abandon. There’s more gruffness, maybe a slip here or bunched chord there, or whatever, but this is, again, live playing, and while not wild-man intense, the vitality of the performance and the control of Barenboim’s playing, mixed with that golden hue, make it hard for me to say anything but good things. (Okay, so maybe there aren’t any nits.) Yes, this is Barenboim, and if you just don’t like Barenboim, you may not like this, but it’s unambiguously better than his two prior efforts with this piece. It’s also one hell of a way to end a concert.

I think it’s safe to say at this point that this is shaping up to be Barenboim’s finest cycle, and one filled with goody after goody.

 

[Todd]

The sixth concert opens with a work generally well-suited to Barenboim’s style – the Pastorale. As is his wont, Barenboim takes the opening Allegro at a slow pace, and adds a certain richness to the music, and here he plays with a not-quite-droning left hand and singing right hand to tickle one’s ears. The more Allegretto or Adagio tempo may leave some wanting a bit more verve (and I can’t say that I wouldn’t have liked that), but Barenboim’s constancy and tonal refinement work to gradually dissuade the listener that the playing sounds too slow. The middle section retains the overall slowness of the movement, but Barenboim still manages to ratchet up the intensity appropriately. See, there’s no need to rush. The Andante maintains the leisurely pace, but the temperature cools a bit, and nice, clean left hand staccato keeps one’s attention. The middle section lightens up a bit, inducing (perhaps) a smile and it sounds relaxed and relaxing, rather like a stroll through a, well, a pastoral landscape. Not too surprisingly, the Scherzo stays on the broad side, but it’s buoyant and bouncy and rhythmically satisfying. The middle is appropriately groovier and admirably clear. The work closes with a Rondo possessed of a slightly faster overall tempo than before, with a gently rocking left hand and gorgeous right hand melodies. It doesn’t plumb the depths, I suppose, but does it really need to? Nah. It’s quite good. Perhaps the best of Barenboim’s three recordings.

No such qualification is needed for the next sonata: this 2005 performance is Barenboim’s best traversal of Op 2/3. The Allegro con brio is light and quick and fun, and tonally varied, with the ascending passages in particular demonstrating vigorous, clear, and (possibly faux?) grooviness. (How does one fake grooviness?) Barenboim keeps the energy level high and the playing comparatively direct throughout, though he does indulge his fancy a little just after 9’ when he plays with hints of later, lusher romanticism. The Adagio offers a significant contrast, sounding slow and rich, with a right hand that sounds more yearning than urgent. The dark, quasi-ominous tolling from the left hand is a nice touch. Perhaps the playing may strike some as too artificial, but I find it artful. The Scherzo is quick and articulate and charming – but in an assertive way. In the midst of this, Barenboim fills the middle section with numerous little touches like micro-pauses and almost imperceptible tempo accelerations and decelerations. Ya gotta listen close. The playing makes ya wanna. The Allegro assai is wonderfully done: sprightly, light, dashing, clear, and played with admirable dexterity throughout, Barenboim caps an unambiguously successful reading.

The concert continues with a solid Op 78. The Adagio cantabile sounds both Grand and light at the same time – a nice feat – though one might complain that the left hand playing is approximately 6.27135% too stiff to properly underpin the right hand chicanery. 93%+ is still an A, though! The second movement sounds looser and funner yet still manages to maintain a sense of not-quite-late LvB gravitas. Perhaps some of the playing would strike some as too obvious point-making, but it’s fine for what it is.

The concert closes, like the nest two do, with one of the last three sonatas. Here’s it’s the 109. (Can you figure out the order of the next two?) And here is one of the relative weak spots of the cycle. The Vivace ma non troppo starts gently and beautifully, immediately establishing that late-LvB sound one craves, though of a distinctly plush variety. It’s ethereal and abstract, though some may say it’s precious and contrived, too. The Prestissimo just isn’t prestissimo enough: it’s too slow and thick and unfocused at times. Flashes of detail-oriented brilliance can be heard, but the whole suffers a bit. The extended Andante and variations opens with a predictably lovely theme at an unpredictably quick speed. (Quick for Barenboim, not someone like Gulda.) The first variation slows up to offer more rich warmth. The second is mostly notable for its distinct but never edgy staccato. The third variation starts off too thick and slow and groove-deprived to make it ideal, though these traits all shine through later on. Then after that, the variations and coda assume a slow, ethereal, and very much beauty-focused style. The lead-in to the final climax is fast and demonstrates superb clarity, and the whole thing fades away into serenity. Doesn’t sound bad, huh? It ain’t. But something just doesn’t quite click. It’s a collection of moments and instances, not a unified whole. In this music that’s a liability.

The penultimate concert starts off with the always enjoyable starter to the Op 31 trio. Once again, Barenboim delivers his best recording to date. The Allegro vivace is clear and quick, with foot stompin’ pedaling aplenty, and ample good humor for good measure. Barenboim adds his unique little touches everywhere, but not only do they never obtrude, they help. The Adagio opens quite slowly, with blurred trills superimposed over a dragging left hand. If that sounds negative, trust me, it’s not meant to. Everything seems to unfold at a stately pace, yet nothing sounds stuffy or stiff. It’s laid back and warm. The middle section picks up the pace, as it should, and the return of the opening material has a bit more drive than the first time around. Barenboim injects a little drama near the end with some nice ‘n’ beefy bass trills. The Rondo is taken at a slightly broad tempo, but this merely allows for greater dynamic and tempo contrasts later on. Superb clarity and articulation remain constant, and with (and because of) the broad-ish overall tempo allowing for nice variation within the movement, it never drags and never feels rushed. It feels just about right.

The Moonlight is next, and depending on what one wants, this can also be considered the best of his three recordings. The Adagio sostenuto is suitably slow and somber, and hazy, and more than a little funereal. Barenboim’s deft pedaling allows for sharp-ish attacks that lack excess edge, with the decay bleeding into the body of the music. Quite nice. The Allegretto sounds crisper and brighter but not excessively jolly, while the Presto agitato ends the piece by storming out the gates. Fast, with rolling bass, vehement intensity, and assertiveness bordering on aggression, Barenboim nails it. He knows when to slow up, too, making this a very satisfactory version.

Next up is the little sixth sonata. The Allegro opener sound light and sunny as it should, and the second theme sounds a bit weightier – though not too weighty – again as it should. At times the playing does tend to be just a bit too thick for the music, but such instances are infrequent and brief. The Allegretto sounds richer and more serious, if not quite serious, offering a nice bridge to the very quick, snappy, light, and downright fun Presto closer. Why no repeat?! Why!? Had it been there, this would be even better.

The concert ends with, and I’ll bet you guessed it gentle reader, Op 110. The Moderato cantabile is mostly about certain things – beauty, warmth, fluidity, grace and lyricism, all of the highest order – and decidedly less about others – seriousness of purpose, musical philosophizing, and ethereal, spiritual transportation. How do you like your late LvB? I tend to prefer more of the latter, though I appreciate the former. Anyway, the Allegro molto is taken at a rather measured though flowing tempo, basically creating a movement possessed of not a little grandeur. The Adagio ma non troppo opens with a distant, despondent feel – to the good – while sounding quite attractive – to the better. The fugue is measured, superbly clear, and grows in scale and strength as it unfolds. The post-fugue music assumes new levels of solemnity and desperation, though Barenboim’s refinement and control never abandon him. The repeated chord build-up to the inverted fugue is gradual, terraced and ends up nice and loud (though I could have done with even more), and the fugue itself is as good as the original one. The final build-up at the end is massive, has a few smudges in it, but otherwise caps off an excellent reading of the work and yet another fine concert.

The concluding concert starts off with the first of the Op 14 sonatas. Alas, this is another weak-ish spot. The Allegro is taken at a relaxed tempo, is delivered in a relaxed style, and is generally upbeat and warm, and maybe just a bit whimsical. The Allegretto is notably slower, with some faux drama thrown in the mix, and yes, it too sounds rich and warm. The Rondo sounds relaxed again, though it does have an upbeat mien and a vigorous middle section, and a rich, warm sound. It’s that rich and warm sound throughout that weakens it. It’s too ripe, too romanticized for my taste. It’s not even close to bad, but I’m afraid it’s not really close to great either.

Next is Op 7. The Allegro molto e con brio again finds Barenboim adopting measured tempos, and it again finds him playing with superb clarity and nice dynamic contrasts. He just sort of cruises along with some nice little bumps in the road to catch one’s attention. There’s a nice energy level to the piece, though some may want a more muscular, heroic take. Not surprisingly, the Largo is slow, but the musical pulse remains steady. The long pauses are none too long, and ample power is on display when required. The Allegro sounds warmer and more lyrical and is downright comfortable. The middle section is quicker, of course, and displays clipped phrasing. The Rondo sounds graceful, cheerful, and, again, warm, with a predictably vital middle section. The work tapers off gradually and gracefully. Another fine if not world-beating performance.

The next to last sonata is Op 54. Here the opening section of the In tempo di menuetto sounds slightly slow but rich and lovely and most lyrical, and maybe just a little soothing. After this the octaves come as something of a surprise: loud and striking and biting and clear and somewhat fast, and displaying deliciously stable rhythm. Each reappearance of these two sections offers a nice alteration of the one before, culminating in trills evoking a surprisingly late-LvB-like sound. The second movement is a bit slow, and pulls off a neat trick: the sound is smooth yet each note is distinct and clear. At times Barenboim seems to “float” the notes while still remembering to add oomph when needed. Generally I prefer a slightly more driven approach to this, but this is curiously effective.

The cycle ends with – you guessed it – Op 111. A solid choice to close the cycle if you ask me. The Maestoso starts with spaced-out opening chords, though a dark, ominous tone is immediately apparent. Then Barenboim really stretches out the slow music that follows. Too much? Nah. Now the music sounds brooding. Then the big bass trill leads strongly into the Allegro, which then builds up even more until the playing is muscular and imposing and almost fearsome. A high level of tension is maintained throughout the movement, and dynamic contrasts are informative. One huge problem here is the imagery. The camera angles and movements suck. They’re comically bad in a sonata that simply doesn’t need such distractions. Hideous, hideous stuff. Best to turn the TV off here. Back to the music: the Arietta is slow to the point of being almost static – but that’s good! – and it sounds absolutely lovely and transcendent. The second half tosses in sublime serenity. The first variation starts off precise and measured, and sounds lighter, though not at all lightweight. It’s almost as if, after arriving in musical Elysium, one ought to just enjoy one’s self with no heavy burden. It works. The second variation is likewise broad, but it’s also meticulously clear and rhythmically secure, and both fluid and tastefully restrained. The third variation is weighty yet snappy, if perhaps less obviously “jazzy” than in some other recordings. Then the music transforms into what it should, nay, must be: utterly transcendental, ethereal, and almost magical. The playing is a bit slower than I usually prefer, but Barenboim pulls off the trick of suspending time here, erasing any doubts. The long chains of trills, here a bit blurred at times (just an observation, not a criticism), start off slow but gradually builds up as the surrounding music transports the listener even more securely into the wonderful musical world Beethoven surely meant listeners to experience. At the end one just marvels in the journey, in the beauty. This is one extraordinary recording of this most remarkable sonata. (Really, is one better?) A noteworthy achievement.

I’d have to say that Barenboim has definitely produced his best overall cycle with this most recent offering. Not everything is perfect, and some of his earlier recordings are as good or better as some here, and one can always find something to quibble about. But taken as a whole, this is an excellent set, nearing greatness. Some may even say Barenboim achieves it. Others would say he doesn’t. That’s because some of Barenboim’s traits that so displease some are still here to hear. He generally favors broad tempos. He can’t resist, it seems, playing almost too beautifully at times. This is gruff, rough stuff, right? Well, maybe not. Some of the playing does sound too saccharine, too contrived, too whatever. But such instances are rare and cannot detract from the overall achievement. There’s an energy, a life to the music this time around that was absent to one degree or another in the two earlier studio cycles. It seems as though Barenboim is at his best before an audience. Maybe he’ll record more music this way in the coming years. I hope so, because I want to hear more music making like this from him. Now I just have to burn the DVDs to CD so I can enjoy the purely musical aspects of the set away from the television. But I will say, if you plan on buying just one DVD cycle of Beethoven’s sonatas, make it this one, and make it snappy.

 

[CMB]

I agree with much of what you have to say, but I grew up listening to the Brendel (have also seen him live) and just recently heard my first M Pollini recording, and while good, Barenboim *to me* is the weakest interpreter.

Brendel techinically is brilliant, and the early recordings show a real warmth. Pollini brings depth and emotion to Beethoven, and Barenboim just doesn't do that.
I find many passages have sloppy technical execution (ex: the "Waldstein") and overall, there is no passion - very "dry read" as it were.

Currently I have the Barenboim in rotation on my station, and will be giving them extra attention - you have obviously found something I am missing in Barenboim's work.