The Russian Piano Tradition: Lev Oborin = BEETHOVEN: Ecossaises; Sonata in A Major, Op. 2, No. 2; CHOPIN: 3 Etudes, Op. 25; Mazurka in G, Op. 50, No. 1; Sonata No. 3 in B Minor, Op. 58; LISZT: Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp Minor; TCHAIKOVSKY: The Months, Op. 37b: June, November, December – Lev Oborin, piano
APR 5668, 79:12 [Distrib. By Harmonia mundi] ****:
Among the most versatile, catholic, and consistent of performing keyboard artists, Lev Oborin (1907-1974) was to Russian piano playing what Artur Balsam and Mieczyslaw Horszowski came to represent for the West, the complete musician. A pupil of Yelena Gnesina and Konstantin Igumnov, Oberin absorbed all of the solo piano tradition, the chamber music repertory, and large canvases of conducting lore, courtesy of Hermann Abendroth and Bruno Walter. This APR collation extends from Oberin’s first commercial recording (1930) of Beethoven’s Ecossaises— through 1952, his inscription of excerpts from Tchaikovsky’s suite, The Months–to 1957, the chaste but plastic recording of Beethoven‘s A Major Sonata.
The light hand, sober, austere, elegant; a warm but unsentimental tone–these hallmarks of the Oberin style captured a generation of students and pedagogues. The second movement of the A Major Beethoven, Largo appassionato, rings with quiet authority–a good instrument the product of interventions by colleague Grigory Ginzburg–the trills tempered over a stately bass line, the melodic contour ever an unbroken arioso. The dynamic range of the Scherzo: Allegretto already points to the kind of power both composer and interpreter could muster from small, musical units. The Rondo: Grazioso manages a discreet balance between an archaic, galant style and Beethoven’s ironic passes at Classicism. Wonderful nuances and gradations of mezzo-forte warrant repeat listening. From the opposite side of bravura we have the 1942 Liszt 2nd Rhapsody (mis-labeled as No. 12), a wizard’s rendition to compete with Levitzky, Hofmann, or Cziffra for slick, digital acumen and gypsy panache.
To audition Oberin’s Chopin group is to recall that he took First Prize at the 1927 Frederic Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw. The F Minor Etude (all rec. 1943) is both supple and strong, no effeminacy here. The F Major swirls in masterly brush-strokes, half gallop, half war-march. The E Minor opens with broken staccati, syncopated; suddenly, Oberin produces a ravishing wash of nocturnal colors, whose bass line insists that tragedy remains omnipresent. The da capo sounds as if the Devil were grating his teeth on one of Dante’s traitors, until a strong trill takes us to a point where light still gleams. The G Major Mazurka (rec. 1951) utters an askew, patriotic song whose internal harmonies are at once bleak and hopeful. From the same session comes a grand rendition of the B Minor Sonata, chiseled out of one, consistent vision. Firm of hand, magisterial in temperament, the sonata enjoys the flexible, colored poetry of a natural Chopin exponent, Slavic, but eminently aristocratic in conception. Brisk tempos do not detract from the innate lyricism of Oberin’s nuanced reading, whose poetic impulses flow effortlessly enough to create the illusion of improvisation. The Scherzo moves in swirling, kaleidoscopic motion surrounded by gunfire. Yet, the melodic tissue proceeds unruffled, a secure oasis that grudgingly yields to the fleet tempest that besets it. Oberin’s Largo lasts eight and one-half minutes, and we are caressed, beguiled, lulled, mesmerized, finally awed, by a color magician second to none. Required listening! The last movement seems an aggregate of cumulative power in the service of one whose control has never been in doubt.
The Tchaikovsky Months inhabit their own, sacred precinct. A slow tempo ingratiates the June Barcarolle to us, elegant, hushed in tone, rife with pearly nostalgia for a more gracious world. The waltz-like middle section becomes quite animated; a brief recitativo section brings back the suns of yesteryear. Oberin takes the November Troika as an articulate parlando with rolling cadences. The carillon effect suddenly opens up the fantastical world of The Nutcracker’s winter wonderland. Silken non-legato playing from Oberin cascades into liquid accompaniment to the main tune. The waltz infiltrates December, given elegant ritards by Oberin, a charming series of nuances that acknowlege his complete dominance in music from his Russian fatherland. For further testimony, consult the Andante set (AN 2150), in which the 1961 Prague Spring Festival courted Oberin and Stokowski in a ravishing performance of the Rachmaninov Third Concerto.
–Gary Lemco
