APR 5586, 76:12 [Distrib. Harmonia mundi] ****:
The name of Sergio Fiorentino (1927-1998) still does not arise immediately among collectors when asked to name the elite of the past romantic pianists, but through APR (and the old Saga LP label) a cult following maintains his repute as an artist of innate, fiery and poetic sensibility. Perhaps the legendary Gyorgy Cziffra occupies a place that resembles that of Fiortentino for esoteric devotion. Fiorentino recorded these Schumann staples at the Guildhall Civic Hall 9-10 August 1965, and they testify to his virtuosity in the service of Schumann’s initiates against the forces of anti-intellectualism and cultural philistinism.
The Canarval, Schumann’s realization of author Jean-Paul Richter’s encomium that a masked ball best approximates the varieties of human life, Fiorentino takes at alternately breakneck and lilting gaits, with sometimes a missed note having to balance the pearly ones. His Aveu, for instance, achieves a tender balance of speed and leggierissimo dynamics. Much rhythmic-dynamic give-and-take permeates the 21 characteristic pieces: Replique begins louder than Schumann requires; Chopin embodies a nocturne that lingers well beyond the written notes; and Fiorentino even includes the long-held tones of Sphinxes, a section to which few pianists pay homage, but Rachmaninov is among them. The opening flourish for Preambule is nothing less than manic; and this blazing–even blinding–virtuosity returns for the Pause section that leads to the heroic March of the David’s-Leaguers. When the last notes sound, we sit in awe-spent admiration at the sheer bravura of the conception.
Scenes from Childhood follow, thirteen tenderly eloquent reminiscences of youth and innocence for gifted players. Fiorentino’s singing line proves ingenuous and eminently vocal, much as if he were playing Chopin’s preludes. Traumerei enjoys a simplicity and natural delivery comparable to that of Horowitz. Direct attack without percussiveness in the Blindman’s Buff, followed by lilted, balanced figures and articulate, inner lines in both Pleading Child and Perfect Happiness. An Important Event emerges as a truncated version of the March Against the Philistines. Lovely falling figures for Kind im Einschkummern and the last of the set, Der Dichter spricht, whose last notes resound well into our adulthood. The C Major Arabeske (in the form of a rondo) conveys both charm and underlying anxiety, especially in its excursion into the minor mode. Both nostalgic and dreamy, the piece lends itself to Fiorentino’s essentialy brisk, Florestan rendering, one that still permits Eusebius several asides.
Fiorentino plays the 1852 version of Symphonic Etudes, originally conceived as symphonic studies for Schumann’s alter-egos, Florestan and Eusebius, after a theme in C-sharp Minor (in 16 bars) by Baron von Fricken, the father of a girl, Ernestine, Schumann wooed. Like Shura Cherkassky, Fiorentino eschews the posthumous five etudes many pianists insert selectively. Nice spacing of the theme by Fiorentio, who applies a fine tremolo in triplets to the second of the etudes, Marcato il canto. The left hand staccati shimmer nervously under a long, darkly hued melodic line. The echo effects in mezzo-voce reveal some nice colors in nuanced light and shade. The third approximates Paganini’s bariolage technique, although bits of Chopin’s tracery poke through in the left hand. Number five is full-blooded, accented march that segues smoothly into a Vivacissimo study in angular syncopations. The Agitato No. 6 proves even more frenetic, galloping irresistibly to the big clock chords of No. 7 that sound much like Brahms of the Paganini and Handel Variations. Etude No. 8 borrows from Bach, an Andante whose lines imitate a solo partita for violin, abetted by a rocking motion. As fast as possible, block chords in runs, so Fiorentino could be playing Chopin. But the ensuing Allegro, No. 10, is Brahms again, who must have had this variation well in mind his whole creative life. Pure, diaphanous Fiorentino for Etude No. 11, whose opening notes will inspire something of the opening to Saint-Saens’ G Minor Concerto. Another grand march, Allegro brillante, for the finale, allowing Fiorentino to apply three-hand effects and subordinate lines in lovely, syncopated stretti. Idiomatic Schumann of the first order, in decent sound.
— Gary Lemco
