Valentina Lisitsa is bold, fearless and forthright to just the right
degree in the early works, keen to relish every opportunity Tchaikovsky
offers to rack up the tension. We seem set fair for a convincing and
idiomatic survey of the solo works … until, oh dear, we hit the buffers
on track 6 – the rarely played Valse-caprice, Op 4. What we get
is a deconstruction of the piece played at practice speed, lasting an
interminable 13'31". Both Viktoria Postnikova (8'47") and Michael Ponti
(5'33", with the repeat of the first section omitted), in their complete
Tchaikovsky sets, present the true spirit of the piece.
Working one’s way through all 10 discs, you realise with mounting
disappointment that this mannerism is something like a default position
with Lisitsa when it comes to reflective, technically undemanding works.
Indeed, I recall a recital in Cremona a few years ago when she eked out
the last pages of a sequence of Chopin Nocturnes with extended
rallentandos to the same somnolent effect. Here, for example, are the 12
Morceaux, Op 40, an archetypical Tchaikovsky mixture of inspired
and insipid short works. It begins with the brief ‘Étude’, a veritable
whirlwind that Lisitsa storms through with thrilling velocity and a
marvellous leggiero touch. Immediately after that comes the lovely (and well-known) ‘Chanson triste’. Tchaikovsky marks this Allegro non troppo (not Lisitsa’s moderato) and requests that la melodia be played con molto espressione
– which means a degree of rubato, yes, but not a tenuto on the first
beat of every bar, dragging down the pulse and bringing a stop go
momentum to proceedings. Again, the tempo Lisitsa adopts for No 9
(another salon favourite) is hardly Tempo di valse, its airy
grace replaced by a heavy tread, the left-hand melody of its central
section dominated by the secondary material in the right hand.
Whenever there is a piece or part of a piece that demands fleet
fingers and incisive rhythm – the second sections of ‘Au village’ (No
7), say, and ‘Danse russe’ (No 10) – then Lisitsa is bang on the money;
whenever the mood is retrospective or reflective, she becomes a
vivisectionist, unpicking these fragile miniatures so that the structure
collapses. Try No 12, ‘Rêverie interrompue’, which drifts home at 6'08"
compared with Posnikova’s 4'29", a faster reading that, ironically,
projects a dreamlike reverie far more vividly. The last track on this CD
(disc 6) is Dumka, Op 59, which illustrates to perfection Lisitsa’s Jekyll and Hyde approach.
It is one that is also in evidence on disc 4, which is devoted to The Seasons.
Much (in fact, most) of the playing here is quite lovely but, just when
you are thinking that this is an account to set beside the best, you
sit becalmed in a gondola, with the ‘Barcarolle’ (June) extended to over
six minutes. Mikhail Pletnev, who himself is in no hurry to come home,
gets to the heart of the matter in 4'36" (Virgin/Erato, 12/94).
So then what do you do when you are presented on disc 3 with both the sonatas (the Grand Sonata,
Op 37, followed by the early Sonata in C sharp minor published
posthumously) in two of the finest performances I have come across?
Lisitsa swallows them whole, with playing of immense power and
conviction, allowing herself plenty of time to dream when required
without ever slipping into her unsustainable practice-tempo mode. With
her incisive attack and steely articulation, this is piano-playing of
great character and individuality. If you have stayed clear of
Tchaikovsky’s sonatas, these may be the performances that tempt you to
investigate.
Elsewhere are Tchaikovsky’s other collections of short works (Opp 19, 39, 51 and 72), works without opus numbers, and the Fifty Russian Folk Songs
arranged for four hands (Lisitsa is joined in these by Alexei
Kuznetsoff). Discs 9 and 10 are devoted to Tchaikovsky’s own piano
arrangements of his orchestral works including the complete Nutcracker, Potpourri on Themes from ‘The Voyevoda’, the Festival Coronation March (a dreadful piece in any form), and the 1812 overture (a thankless task for any pianist). However, the transcription of Marche slave
is extraordinary, an ingenious reworking for the keyboard and a
stunning tour de force by Lisitsa. On its own it might just be enough to
make you press that ‘add to cart’ button.
I might say that the piano, a Bösendorfer, has been very well
recorded, even if Lisitsa can sometimes produce a somewhat hectoring,
brittle tone at fortissimo and above. The presentation of the 10
discs and the booklet are first-class. In conclusion, Lisitsa offers the
most comprehensive Tchaikovsky intégrale on the market but I shall not be replacing my much-played Ponti LPs or, on balance, Postnikova’s seven CDs. I can do without The Nutcracker and the 1812 on the piano – and, ultimately, without the series of eccentric musical decisions that mar Lisitsa’s set. (Jeremy Nicholas / Gramophone)