Fabula Classica FAB 12052-2, 68:20 (Distrib. Qualiton) ****:
Recorded 1961 for Italian-Swiss Radio and licensed by the Ermitage label, this all-Chopin recital by Polish legend Artur Rubinstein (1887-1982) has excellent audio presence – Rubinstein at seventy-four still in supple form. Titanic gestures dominate the B-flat Minor, whose opening movement is as close to Chopin’s indication for doppio movimento as I have heard. The elastic phrases of the Funeral March’s middle section drip with resignation without descending into emotional syrup. The Nocturne is all pearls, where even the subtle rubato weaves a natural spell. Intimately conversational, the playing projects breadth and tonal largesse. Someone moved the microphone during the F Minor Fantasie, which sounds a bit tinny and bass-heavy. Its funereal opening soon evolves into a passionate, almost vocalized ballade of considerable power, the bass etched fervently. The stretti alternating with the rapid arpeggios and repeated notes creates a thrilling alchemy not to be missed.
The group of four Preludes range from the pellucid D-flat “Raindrop” to the sparkling, even dreamy F Major, the fitful No. 8, and the demonic D Minor, No. 24, shades of Dorian Gray. The easy grace of the A-flat Ballade reminds us of Rubinstein the cosmopolite, the master of French boulevard music, whose Poulenc is not far away. Someone again messes with the microphone placement, curses. Finesse and fluency mark even the obsessive passages, where the dark, emotional undercurrents flow, afterthoughts from the Sonata. A kinder compulsion in the Berceuse, with its variants on a sustained riff, a diaphanous chaconne in watercolors. Rubinstein announces “un valse,” and it turns out to be his ubiquitous C Sharp Minor, suavely paced and accelerated, rife with sensual cunning. What a rich tone-color Rubinstein had! Finally, “un studien de Chopin,” a rarity since Rubinstein never inscribed it commercially. The broken staccati coalesce into a nocturne of uncanny, melancholy song with a ringing final cadence. Whoops from the audience.
— Gary Lemco
