Naxos Great Pianists 8.111299, 55:55 [Not Distrib. In USA] ****:
Glenn Gould (1932-1982) recorded the last three Beethoven sonatas 20-29 June 1956 as a “reward” for his first CBS inscription, the famed Goldberg Variations of 1955; the CBS LP–here remastered in stunning, penetrating sound by Mark Obert-Thorn–was released as ML 5130. Gould, while not respecting Beethoven’s repeats, does provide a rhythmically secure and digitally clear conception to each of the sonatas. He catches the upbeat effect of the Op. 109 first movement, and he delivers a fierce Prestissimo for the second movement. Gould takes the ensuing variations of the third movement quite rapidly, the fugal variant both quick and risoluto. Idiosyncratic and sometimes painfully intruded upon by Gould’s vocal sounds, the performance still takes our collective breath away, the flutters, arpeggios and trills all pouring out a seamless cornucopia of sound. The return of the main theme in movement three has the stately, composed earmarks of the Bach Goldbergs all over again, as though Op. 109 were an extended improvisation on Bach’s original.
Sparkling clarity marks the Op. 110 Moderato cantabile molto espressivo, with an accent on the music’s vocal power. Again, Gould’s warbling and guttural strummings do not help us, but the even flow of the figures, their cumulative syncopes and clarion shifts of registration, never cease to beguile. The bass progressions descend forcefully but not harshly, the dynamics gracefully balanced and controlled by Apollinian restraint. The second movement might be construed as “too British,” too staid in the joints. Its middle section delights in mixed, staccato colors; but it all passes away quickly, and the pensive march opens again. The Adagio, with its marking “Arioso dolente,” brings out the intellectual refinement Gould could project, a sensitivity that never becomes maudlin. The Fuga evolves as a plastic, colorist, even whimsical series of exercises in strict tempo. Gould’s unwarranted singing often takes on an irritating buzz that reminds us the bumblebee is aerodynamically unsuited for flight.
The Op. 111, while clearly the most Dionysiac of the Gould triptych, remains the most bizarre, opting for brutally fast tempos that throw much of the drama out of proportion and reduce the ritenuto passages to tatters. That Beethoven’s stormy passions can be played as demonic etudes comes as a mixed blessing at best. The Arietta proceeds soberly enough, followed by a tender arioso; but Gould’s natural willfulness vents itself compulsively with mounting force, and the effects tumble into one another. Kinetic, frenetic, hectic, but not particularly aesthetic, the last movement wants to lose itself in the Abyss; and all the while Gould intones his own siren’s song, a hymn to divine eccentricity. Brilliant, but caveat emptor.
–Gary Lemco
