The beginning of a complete cycle of Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas, this survey (rec. 2002-2003) begins auspiciously, with Wehr playing Beethoven with both a fleet and determined ethos; the accents in the opening F Minor Sonata, for example, fierce, and the last movement’s Prestissimo taken full tilt. Volatility and refinement alternate in rapid succession here and in the ensuing A Major Sonata. While Wehr takes outer sections of the sonatas at a brisk tempo, he lavishes nice attention to Beethoven’s slower movements, and the Largo con gran espessione from Op. 7 proves quite special. Wehr’s middle range in the E-flat proves particularly resonant, the opening movement Allegro molto e con brio muscular and affectionately bright. Some deft pedaling keeps the dynamic levels from becoming too overpowering; we forget how this sonata reveals so much of the later, spacious mass in Beethoven.
Wehr’s approach to the C Minor Sonata, Op. 10, No. 1 calls for crisp attacks and poised reflection. The gestures, dramatically compact, occasionally rocket forth while the bass line becomes quite muscular. Wehr demonstrates a variegated touch throughout the course of the Allegro molto e con brio, though the mood remains darkly sober. Slow, deliberate fioritura unfolds in the Adagio molto, whose haltering presence might hearken back to Mozart’s C Minor Fantasia. The Prestissimo bubbles with nervous energy, the figures tumbling over themselves, a virtuosic blend of force and humor. Wehr injects some propulsion into the otherwise genial F Major Sonata, Op. 10, No. 2. At times sounding like a study in staccato or a toccata in broken style, the piece jaunts along amiably. The hybrid Allegretto, neither menuet nor scherzo, possesses a mysterious charm, unspoken romance. The Presto hops like a deft circus performer, a weirdly flamboyant gigue, maybe a drinking song.
Following Sviatoslav Richter’s motto of non-integral listening, I went to the G Minor, Op. 49, No. 1 Sonata (or Sonatina), whose opening slow movement has a smooth, haunted melancholy. For a piece Beethoven did not want published, it has a singular delicacy. The last movement proceeds with a light touch, hints of Haydn in several episodes. The G Major has no dynamic indications, so Wehr takes it at a rapid stride, emphasizing its mercurial, quick juxtapositions of touch. Quite exhilarating. A slight ritard makes the Tempo di menuetto pert and interesting, its familiarity guaranteed by its orchestration in Beethoven’s Op. 20 Septet.
The C Major Sonata Op. 2, No. 3 challenges Wehr’s ability to sustain a large canvas rife with gristle and muscle. The sforzati come like bolts of lightning, the Yamaha CF 111S resonating in grand form. Much of the rolling arpeggiation anticipates the later Tempest and Appassionata Sonatas. The landings at cadences prove most effective. The Adagio plays out as much Schumann as Beethoven, a lovely song distinguished by pregnant pauses that might have been attached to Schumann’s Op. 12. Nice execution of the tripping Scherzo whose accents refuse to line up in an orderly fashion. The trio might be a minor descent into the maelstrom. Wehr’s Allegro assai suggests that Liszt etudes would not be a stretch for his light, deft hands. Rocket figures and lithe trills tie this dashing Rondo into a colorful, bravura package.
Ever since I first auditioned the D Major with Sviatoslav Richter on LP (CBS ML 5725), and then with Vladimir Horowitz, Beethoven’s D Major Sonata, Op. 10, No. 3 has become a staple, even a touchstone, for judging Beethoven interpretation. Emotionally and structurally, it seems to lie at a crossroads, pushing the Classical envelope far into uncharted, Romantic territories with its harmonic and dynamic outbursts. The first movement’s visceral energies exemplify the sturm und drang ethos. Wehr brings its kaleidoscopic range of feeling to a rollicking close. The Largo e mesto steps forward from another dimension, a painfully slow, obsessive meditation that looks back hauntingly to Mozart. Wehr provides the juxtaposed Menuetto and its rustic trio a naivete every bit as transparent as the Largo was lugubrious. The three-note motif which dominates the Rondo cannot counter the deep turmoil we experienced earlier in the Largo, but Wehr pushes it for its cornocopia of ideas, all tumbling out together, a fitting conclusion to a Beethoven set that presents dexterity and musical intelligence at every turn.
— Gary Lemco
