GRIEG: Works for Piano, Vol. 10 = Book V, Op. 54; Book VI, Op. 57; Book VII, Op. 62 – Antonio Pompa-Baldi, piano – Centaur CRC 2943, 65:22 [Distr. by Albany] ****:
Recorded July 2-6, 2007, by former 2001 Silver Medalist from the Van Cliburn Competition Antonio Pompa-Baldi, using a Steinway D, these mature miniatures capture Grieg at his best, as master of the characteristic folk piece that condenses often audacious harmonies for the progressive salon. The Op. 54 remains most familiar to us as the orchestrated Lyric Suite, though its keyboard format has its concomitant virtues. Innocence and subtle harmonies combine for The Shepherd’s Boy and the ensuing Norwegian March, the latter asking Pompa-Baldi to exploit martial riffs in competing registers. The coy March of the Dwarfs certainly nods to Mendelssohn, but its acerbic character transcends that composer and harkens us to the Hall of the Mountain King. The trio section, however, seems to distill a pure draught from a chalice proffered by Orpheus. The lovely Notturno, as played in liquid limpid style by Pompa-Baldi, suggests that he, and not the eternally clangorous Olga Kern, should have received the Gold Medal at the Cliburn Competition. The Scherzo proffers audacious harmonies, some reminiscent of Schumann’s Prophet Bird. Exotic and seductively sonorous, Pompa-Baldi’s middle and upper registers ring like blue droplets from Crater Lake. The Op. 54 suite ends with the deceptively ‘minimalist’ Bell Ringing, Grieg’s looking ahead to Ravel‘s La vallee des cloches.
Book VI, composed when Grieg was in Menton recovering from poor health, opens with a tender lyric, “Vanished Days,” a long ternary song which muses between declamatory staccati and lovely ringing arpeggios. Built on a rising and falling third, the piece achieves a kind of development, like an abbreviated sonata-movement. The sweet tribute to fellow composer Niels Gade is in A Major and combines a Norwegian folk tune and a conservatory notion of counterpoint in duet. The minor key “Illusion” proceeds in sixths and has a tendency to stutter or dissipate, the 6/8 meter yielding at one bar to 9/8. “Secret” owes debts to Schubert, especially in its tendency to hide its singular theme in three stages or sections each repeated thrice in different modes and affects. An extended recitative section reluctantly takes on modal harmonization, almost a bluesy ballad that Hoagy Carmichael would be proud to own. “She Dances” might allude to Anitra, but the sixteenth notes create an uneasy syncopation. Lydian four-part texture defines Homesickness, a folk-style moment close to what we know as New-Age pianism in its high register, a charming foil for the plaintive main melody.
Grieg’s Book VII, Op. 62 begins with “Sylphe,” a balletic piece in runs and broken scales, an ostinato pattern increasing the tension in what might pass for Scriabin’s harmonizations. The longest of the set, “Gratitude,” seems to recall Chopin’s famous Etude in E from Op. 10. A stealthy motif appears that takes on dark hues, only to return to the plaintive, opening song. “French Serenade,” an old Gieseking staple, rings and cavorts with old-world charm, the perfect jeweled salon piece. Its influence on Percy Grainger must have been great. “Brooklet” maintains Grieg’s fascination with psychological landscape, here in rushing, somewhat manic and cascading figures, some of which rise from significant depths. “Phantom” suggests the musical equivalent of Gustav Moreau’s wraith-like pictures, the harmonies at once a step away from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and Liszt’s D-flat Consolation. “Homeward” combines the sense of Lydian bells and the Hardanger fiddle, whose drone provides the essence of the Norwegian folk dance. Typically, Grieg accelerates the pace into a rustic fever before the meditative trio, the da capo ingenuous as ever, the blistering-notes finale the expected tour de force.
–Gary Lemco
