Julius Katchen, Volume I = BACH: Partita No. 2 in C Minor; BEETHOVEN: 32 Variations in C Minor; Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major; Cello Sonata No. 5 in D Major – Julius Katchen, piano/Pablo Casals, cello/Bavarian Radio Sym. /Eugen Jochum – Doremi

by | Sep 28, 2010 | Classical Reissue Reviews | 0 comments

Julius Katchen, Volume I = BACH: Partita No. 2 in C Minor, BWV 826; BEETHOVEN: 32 Variations in C Minor; Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58; Cello Sonata No. 5 in D Major, Op. 102, No. 2 – Julius Katchen, piano/Pablo Casals, cello/Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra/Eugen Jochum

Doremi DHT-7936, 68:25 [Distr. by Allegro] ****:

The art of American pianist Julius Katchen (1926-1969) finds an excellent vehicle in this collation from Doremi, opening with the Ludwigsburg, Germany (25 September 1965) performance of the Bach C Minor Partita, a reading of weight and dramatic fluidity. The Sinfonia alone provides a grand introduction to Katchen’s capacity for refined counterpoint and the clear maintenance of interior voices. Hardly a beat passes between the decay of the Sinfonia and the beginning of the Allemande, whose mordant drooping figures hypnotize us with the plaintive repetitions. The Courante dances all pearls and arabesques, imitative and florid without mannerism. The Sarabande passes by rather quickly, but its innate lyric melancholy remains. Sparkles and scintillating staccato mark the Rondeau, whose light feet in non-legato make us recall how contemporary Katchen and Glenn Gould were in both time and musical acumen. The final Capriccio relishes its capacity for brilliant filigree, the supple and elastic figures in happy polyphony, especially as the gorgeous bass line makes its presence felt.

Katchen retained a natural sympathy for the music of Beethoven, and his 32 Variations in C Minor (from Paris, 11 October 1962) reveal a feral energy, an aggressive percussion that we might mistake for Rudolf Serkin. No small coincidence that Katchen favored the C Minor Sonata, Op. 111 as an outlet for his own explosive temperament. If the upper registers fly, the bass grumbles and surges in some primeval fury, as this piece lacking opus number wants to be long noted and well remembered. One third of the way through, the music recalls Handel’s own Chaconne, of which this piece appears to be a direct descendant. Katchen plays the duets in registration with intricate care and delicacy, only to sweep them away with manic runs and displaced octaves. Blake’s “Tyger” has surely been unleashed, and even its soft chords purr with animal menace, especially as the martial rhythm hurtles forward and regroups in wicked cascades of sound. The ending, whose sudden silence takes our breath away, leaves us with an uneasy sense of awe, both for composer and performer.

The collaboration with Eugen Jochum from Bavaria (5 March 1962) in the Beethoven G Major Concerto offers superb sound, especially as Jochum elicits glowing effects from his ensemble in woodwind and brass, the string warm in the typical manner of Jochum’s idiosyncratic romanticism. Ever in the first movement, we enjoy rhythmic reminders of the Fifth Symphony, here turned into an Aeolian harp, which never denies the masculine potency of the interpretation, its natural athleticism. Nothing effete or tentative in Katchen’s rounded arches, his rapid or broken chords that never relinquish the underlying four-beat pulsation. Thee manic fioritura of his cadenza provides its own commentary on Katchen’s demonic impulse, whose sinewy strength reminds me of Claudio Arrau. Tragic sentiments inform the Andante con moto, a haunted introspection rife with intimations of mortality. Katchen and Jochum simply cut loose for the final movement, an alchemy of brisk tempests and loving melodies. It becomes energetically obvious that the BRSO inherits much of Katchen’s fiery enthusiasm, and the late rising scales prior to the  brief cadenza simply ring bells in the ionosphere. If someone told me Katchen’s piano needed a major overhaul in asbestos after this performance, I would not blink in surprise.

The Cello Sonata in D with Casals from the Prades Festival (6 August 1960) plays as either a profound encore or an anticlimax after the throes of the G Major Concerto, but the artists wring their individual intensities upon the score. Casals’ raspy tone and technique prove a mite wobbly for the monstrous demands made on him, but the concerted figures in this late (1815) work retain their visceral impact. Katchen’s consistent muscularity attests to the powerhouse talent he brought to bear, mitigated by his natural capacity for pearly play and delicacy of touch. The only Beethoven cello sonata with a real slow movement, the D Major would have benefited from a surer hand from Casals; his moans and singing never help his cause. The last movement ties Beethoven to Baroque models, the fugue’s leaping and grumbling in severe, startling harmony. But at 84 years of age, Casals packs his own emotional dynamite, undimmed by time.

–Gary Lemco


  


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