Edwin Fischer in two MOZART piano concertos, 3 BEETHOVEN Sonatas, Piano trios of BRAHMS & SCHUMANN – with Vienna Philharmonic Orch. – Orfeo (4 CDs)

by | Jun 30, 2011 | Classical Reissue Reviews | 0 comments

Edwin Fischer = MOZART: Piano Concerto No. 25 in C Major, K. 503; Piano Concerto No. 22 in E-flat Major, K. 482; Piano Trio in c Major, K. 548; BEETHOVEN: Piano Trio No. 7 in B-flat Major, Op. 97 “Archduke”; Piano Sonata No. 32 in C Minor, Op. 111; Piano Sonata No. 15 in D Major, Op. 28 “Pastoral”; Piano Sonata No. 21 in C Major, Op. 53 “Waldstein”; SCHUMANN: Piano Trio No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 63; BRAHMS: Piano Trio No. 1 in B Major, Op. 8 – Edwin Fischer, piano/Enrico Mainardi, cello/Wolfgang Schneiderhahn, violin/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra – Orfeo C 823 104L, (4 CDs) 67:09; 63:30; 64:34; 71:41  [Distr. By Qualiton] ****:
Edwin Fischer (1886-1960)–the Swiss pianist and conductor and almost exact contemporary of his friend and colleague Wilhelm Furtwaengler–finds a fitting tribute in these restorations of Salzburg Festival appearances 1946-1954. Fischer sought to restore something of the spiritual primacy of the Salzburg Festival after its unfortunate absorption into and elimination by the National Socialist propaganda machine of the 1938-1945 period. Conducting from the keyboard and playing solo recitals, Fischer gained ascendancy as “the bestqualified interpreter of Mozart, for in his piano playing we find a human purity that often reminds one of Mozart’s music.”
The two concertos from 7 August 1946 find Fischer in strong form, his Mozart virile and polished but without undue violence to their emotional serenity and textural clarity. Not always note-perfect, Fischer still manages the elevated contours and quick runs with finesse and largesse, especially in the C Major Concerto, whose architecture lifts it to a height that warrants comparison to the last three symphonies. The outer movements of both concertos enjoy an elastic vitality, while their middle movements convey deep intelligence and a sense of mystery in the poised figures of Mozart’s mature style. A kind of benign frenzy marks Fischer’s cadenza in the K. 482 final Rondo, the liquid staccati staggered and suddenly surging up lightly into the string and woodwind mix for the last playful statement of the ritornello that swells in to a militantly playful coda.
Fischer’s substitution all-Beethoven solo recital–for an evening originally scheduled for Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli–of 28 July 1954 opens with a thoughtfully dramatic rendition of the C Minor Sonata, Op. 111. Eschewing the sonatas’ chronological order seems to have thrown the effects of Beethoven’s stylistic development into bold relief, especially as polyphony and motivic fragmentation reign in the first piece and classical symmetries emerge in the two earlier sonatas. The entire concert endures through the efforts of pianist Paul Badura-Skoda, from whose private collection the source tape derives. The aggressive Maestoso subsides to permit the Arietta and its molto semplice realization the full gamut of Fischer’s introspective and lyrical powers, gleaned as they were from Leschetizky’s master class. The evanescent pearly play of Fischer’s upper register, quicksilver figures quite urges us into realms of singular beauty and transcendent meditation.  The opening of the Pastoral Sonata–with its bucolic drone effects–already indicates an unforced simplicity of means in Fischer’s style as he glides easily through its various subject-entries and dancing epilogues. The Andante proceeds with a stately, even portentous, dignity that does not bog down into a lugubrious adagio. Gottfried Kraus comments as to his delight in Fischer’s “roguish” way with the trio’s maggiore section.
A wisp of a Scherzo ensues, playful and “experimental” at once, virtually in the style of bagatelle. The Rondo bathes in graceful arpeggios and broken figures, upward runs, potent trills, and some stunning block chords. A moment or two of strict counterpoint does not spoil the essentially genial mood of an excursion into exalted innocence, ravishingly delivered. The otherwise bravura Waldstein Sonata assumes an affectionate glow under Fischer, whose virtuoso status never suffers doubt but rather finds better employment in rendering the poetry in Beethoven’s extended roulades and arched periods. Contemporary critic Willi Reich calls attention to the “poignant restraint” of the brief Adagio. Freshness and spontaneity rule in Fischer’s interpretation, a reading in which his elastic, lithe touch finds innumerable nuances in figures we thought we knew all too well. The Aeolian harp that we once called the last movement Rondo resonates in our memories long after the last chord decays, making us wish Fischer’s encore, the G Minor Fantasy, Op. 77 of Beethoven had been included.
Edwin Fischer’s work in the piano trio medium dates back to 1942, when he, cellist Enrico Mainardi, and violinist Georg Kulenkampff formed a trio at the Lucerne Conservatory.  Upon the death of Kulenkampff, the Viennese Wolfgang Schneiderhahn replaced him for four concerts between 1949 and 1954 by “The Trio of Masters,” as one Salzburg critic termed them. The Mozart 1788 Trio in C, K. 548 and Beethoven “Archduke” Trio (9 August 1952) present, respectively, Mozart and Beethoven as conscientious fertile musical imaginations engaged in work that embraces the intimate and epic at once. The scaling down of the Mozart to maintain its lithe contrapuntal character makes it seem an intimate miniaturization of its contemporary C Major “Jupiter” Symphony. The ¾ Andante cantabile conveys a spiritual serenity that belies the dire economic circumstances surrounding it creation.  The final Allegro assumes symphonic proportions, almost akin to the late piano concertos. The 1811 Archduke Trio already possesses the title “symphony for piano trio,” and this rendition confirms its immense status and emotional sweep, its ability to dismantle a basically static theme in the first movement in order to discover its subversive elements. Expansive tenderness alternates with mischievous wit in this grand piece, as the second and fourth movements demonstrate. The Scherzo reels in voluptuous energy; the Andante cantabile projects a serenity akin to any of the elaborately magnificent hymns in Beethoven’s last period works. No sooner have we fallen in thrall to the mysteries of the Andante cantabile than Beethoven mocks his own profundity with a high-spirited jovial dance that relishes its singular irreverence.
To complement the Classical impulse of 9 August 1952, we engage in the thoroughly Romantic ethos for the concert of 8 August 1953, in trios by Schumann and Brahms. Something of the Byronic informs Schumann’s 1847 D Minor Trio, and the Fischer ensemble finds only eager sympathy in its turbulent chromatics and harmonic wanderlust. Its melancholy passions receive exquisite sympathy from the Fischer Trio, the string parts both incisive and broadly phrased. The plaintive motifs reach for major modalities but succumb to a prevailing sense of doom, as if Roderick Usher had composed this obsessive music. The Scherzo seems even less melodic, rambling in disjointed swirls of color, the strings and piano in close or contrary canon. At selected moments, the piano and strings each separate their respective parts, forming the sonority of a piano quartet, that symphonic sound of which Schneiderhahn and Mainardi prove expert. The sad waltz-like Adagio (Langsam) allows Schneiderhahn and Fischer to demonstrate what their duo playing could achieve, with Mainardi’s supplying a detached ghostly voice in high register. With his bi-polar sensibility, Schumann asks his trio practitioners to play “Mit Feuer,” and the Fischer Trio responds with orchestral verve, the panoply of colors moving like one of Schumann’s many fairy-tale marches that romps even through personal crises.
Mainardi’s serene cello sets the tone for the lush nostalgia that permeates the 1854 (rev. 1889) Brahms B Major Trio, a performance totally idiomatic and emotionally inflamed within the composer’s naturally Classical reticence. Fischer’s massive piano part enjoys his bravura approach, establishing a clearly dual context of harmony and counterpoint that suffuses the entire composition. The first movement surges and wanes between the textural masses like the pounding surf that moved Matthew Arnold to note “the ebb and  flow of human misery.” The last dialogues, especially between Mainardi and Schneiderhahn, could bring an iron tear down Pluto’s cheek. The B Minor/B Major Scherzo--with its inspired waltz trio–moves with a darkly Mendelssohnian elan. Mainardi once more casts a divine spell for the Adagio, an intimate, hymn-like meditation of austere beauty. A sense of disquietude infiltrates the otherwise brio-filled Finale: Allegro–yet again opened by Mainardi’s wistful waltz lilt–marked no less by syncopations in the cello’s secondary theme.  By the time Fischer and his eminent cohorts have traversed this passionate opus, we feel–as do the fortunate auditors at the Salzburg Mozarteum–that we have been privy to the inner sanctums of high art.
–Gary Lemco

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