Steven Osborne RACHMANINOV Études-tableaux

Before his flight to Scandinavia during the Bolshevik Revolution, Rachmaninov’s last recitals in Russia included some of the Op 39 Études-tableaux. One St Petersburg critic wrote: ‘In the Études, Rachmaninov appears in a new light. The soft lyricist begins to employ a more severe, concentrated and deepened mode of expression’; while a Moscow critic concluded: ‘Who among Russian pianists is the strongest, most radiant? For me, the choice is clear: Rachmaninov.’ So from the beginning, it would seem, the new compositional directions and attitudes inherent in the Études-tableaux were apparent.

Steven Osborne’s thrilling new recording leaves no doubt of the Études’ unique position in Rachmaninov’s oeuvre. As brilliant as Osborne’s execution is throughout, it is his freshness of conception that, for me, is most striking. Naturally, every agogic, dynamic and tempo indication is scrupulously observed. On that firm foundation Osborne layers his inerrant rhythmic sense, chaste rubato, his seemingly infinite dynamic palette and, above all, his beautifully sculpted singing line.

In the more poetic Études – Op 33 Nos 2 and 7, Op 39 Nos 2 and 8 among them – melodies sing unimpeded by sentimentality or over-indulgent rubato. After establishing several planes of aural activity in Op 33 No 3, arrival at the Meno mosso occurs within a hushed ppp that is positively breathtaking in its ethereal beauty. Probably no composer was more obsessed with the sounds of bells than Rachmaninov. Their evocation here is fascinatingly varied: distant tolls in Op 33 No 4, tocsins in Op 39 No 3 and festive peals in Op 33 No 6. The desperate flights of Op 33 No 5 and Op 39 No 1 are as frantically driven as anything in Chopin. Two mini-epics stand out. The implacable force of Op 33 No 8, bordering on violence, takes no quarter and brooks no expressive compromise. And the most famous of the set, the E flat minor, Op 39 No 5, stands as a model of pacing. Its shapely melody soars mightily above (and below) thick chordal textures, evoking a vast battlefield where, for once, the pianist isn’t among the casualties.

It’s perhaps no surprise that Osborne, the past master of the French Impressionists, should bring us so singular a Rachmaninov, at once architecturally magnificent and abundant in rich detail. These interpretations, with shadows of ambiguity, foreboding akin to terror and a profound, tender regret, anchor this music incontrovertibly in its historical moment: the waning of the Russian Silver Age. Rachmaninov fans won’t want to miss this; nor will connoisseurs of intelligent, meaningful piano-playing. (Patrick Rucker / Gramophone)

Steven Osborne NIKOLAI KAPUSTIN Piano Music

Here is an exhilarating disc that will get your feet tapping! Nikolai Kapustin (born 1937) studied the piano at the Moscow Conservatoire with Alexander Goldenweiser, and is a prolific composer, especially for his own instrument. His style is a fascinating and distinctive blend of classical and jazz styles, as he expounds his jazz-based melodic and rhythmic ideas within the structures of classical sonata form. The jazz influence is of course nothing new: many composers, including Ravel and Poulenc, have incorporated jazz elements in their work, but whereas their music makes occasional and relatively superficial reference to jazz, Kapustin's is unthinkable without it.

The first two piano sonatas (he has so far written ten) both date from 1989, and display a deep merging of disparate stylistic elements tempered by a careful control of structure. The hallmarks of Kapustin's style are evident throughout: the scintillating virtuosity and jazz-influenced syncopations, with the occasional walking bass and doses of swing, boogie-woogie, and the raw energy of Art Tatum. The Preludes also present a great variety of jazz styles, including blues, ballad, jazz waltz, swing and a hint of jazz funk.

Steven Osborne is one of the most exciting young British pianists, and the jazz idiom is wholly natural to him. Having discovered this wonderful music, he has managed to get hold of many rare scores and manuscripts from Russia (some from the composer himself) in order to make this recording. The result is a revelation, and one you'll undoubtedly want to play to your friends. (Hyperion)

'Engaging, often witty, jazz-inspired works that are highly recommended, especially to lovers of Gershwin or Billy Mayerl' (Gramophone)

Steven Osborne / Cynthia Millar / Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra / Juanjo Mena MESSIAEN Turangalîla-Symphonie

‘The Messiaen Monster’, ridiculed by critics at its premiere—in the best tradition of works of genius—is now ‘established as one of the most astonishing classics of the twentieth century’, as Nigel Simeone writes in the booklet of this brilliant new release. The joyful generosity of the orchestral writing and kaleidoscopic nature of the musical invention make Turangalîla one of Messiaen’s most characteristic and appealing works, considered by many to be his masterpiece. As well as the distinctive sound of the ondes martenot, the other striking feature is the virtuoso piano part—it is in some ways a concerto, although the sheer scale of the orchestral contribution belies that specific title. Rarely has it been more explosively performed than here, with an acknowledged living master of Messiaen’s piano music, Steven Osborne, at the keyboard. 

'Messiaen's joyous amalgamation of unfettered emotion and experiments in musical time is incredibly rich in detail, yet remarkably direct in experession … any performance must keep sight of the romantic, sometimes disturbing, core of the work. This is clearly understood in this performance from Juanjo Mena and the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra … the pacing of moments such as the main climax (of many) in the 'Développement de l'amour' is masterfully handled, as is the subsequent dispersal of energy … Steven Osborne brings authority to the piano cadenzas andpoetry to the filigree passages, while the orchestra players are clearly having fun' (BBC Music Magazine)

Steven Osborne RACHMANINOV 24 Preludes

'Extremely impressive all round … Osborne lavishes a remarkable level of authority on every one of these masterworks, playing with a rare combination of technical ease, tonal lustre and idiomatic identification. He also has the undeniable advantage of a magnificent Steinway instrument with a rich, opulent sonority and great solidity in its bass register … in summary, Osborne goes from strength to strength as he moves through the cycle, wrapping up the final page of the concluding D flat prelude in a blaze of glory … for a truly spellbinding modern account, Osborne now holds the winning ticket' (International Record Review)

'The velvet tone with which Osborne caresses the tendrils of the melody at the beginning of Op 23/6, the stunning clarity of the gesture in Op 32/6 and the fingerwork in Op 32/8, the gloriously saturated climax of Op 31/13 … the subtly of color and his unerring control of phrasing and dynamics over long musical spans, the lyricism never turns saccharine, the introspection never turns to self-pity, and the melancholy never glowering … Osborne is arguably at the top of the list' (Fanfare, USA)

'There are few pianists who offer such range and depth of palette: not even Ashkenazy's seminal reading … this has award-winner written all over it' (Gramophone)

Steven Osborne / BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra / Ludovic Morlot RAVEL Piano Concertos - FALLA Nights in the Gardens of Spain

Anyone who knows Steven Osborne's superlative set of Ravel's solo piano music (also on Hyperion) will be impatient to hear him in the concertos. It may seem perverse then to start with the other work on this disc, but Manuel de Falla's Nights in the Gardens of Spain is anything but incidental padding. Longer than either of the concertos it is an outstanding companion, for the Frenchman was a key influence on Falla, while, with his Basque heritage, Ravel repeatedly turned to Spain for inspiration. Full of colour, both Osborne's poetry and his exceptional touch are to the fore, the sparkling cascades in the final movement being especially breathtaking. It is a pity, then, that the improvisatory motifs are demure rather than swooning seductively in the face of the wonderfully pungent horns of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra.

Osborne and Ludovic Morlot generally play things similarly straight in both Ravel concertos, with every detail in place, a wonderful zest on the G major Concerto and suitably imposing bravura in the left-Hand Concerto. The absence of false sentimentality is admirable, though a little more fluidity would be welcome in places. Not that nuance is lacking. Osborne's curious (lack of) emphasis for some melody notes in the sublime long solo that opens the movement is not entirely convincing, but he elicits spine-tingling shadings of colour as the movement progresses, while the left hand sounds almost like a harp at times. Minor caveats aside, these are strong performances of a programme that bears repeated listening. (Christopher Dingle / BBC Music)

Steven Osborne FELDMAN - CRUMB

I can’t imagine Morton Feldman, cantankerous curmudgeon that he was, would have been thrilled at the prospect of having his music paired with that of George Crumb, but Steven Osborne makes a solid case beyond any obvious fact that their careers happened to overlap during a certain period in the history of American music.

The arid, slapped clusters of Feldman’s Extensions 3 (1952) set the tone nicely for Crumb’s painterly, Giotto-inspired A Little Suite for Christmas, AD 1979 (1980), which itself begins with an accumulation of compacted clusters. But wisely Osborne doesn’t try to push any supposed stylistic affiliation too far. Intermission 5, Piano Piece 1952 and Extensions 3 are exemplars of Feldman’s formative experiments with reconfiguring musical scale, and were all written in 1952. The seamless procession of harmonically tangled dotted crotchets, alternating between right and left hands, arranged neatly to form Piano Piece 1952 is marked ‘Slowly and quietly with all beats equal’ and Osborne does Feldman’s bidding cleanly and accurately; clearly he’s thought long and hard about the implications Feldman’s indication has for shaking entrenched patterns of expressive behaviour.

If the challenge Piano Piece 1952 presents is keeping Feldman’s gyrating contours contained within a narrow bandwidth of dynamic and pulse, Intermission 5 and Extensions 3 are both concerned with blunt contrasts of dynamic and texture. On Mode, Aki Takahashi pushes Extensions 3 to a death-defying 6'43"; at 5'30" Osborne keeps a safety net, but this is a very fine performance. Abrupt juxtapositions of slammed fff chords breaking into echoing ppp aftershocks make the piano resonate like you never heard, and Hyperion’s microphones intimately capture the wailing overtones and ricocheting piano action.

Palais de Mari (1986) is Feldman’s most-recorded piano work, and Osborne’s supple control of overaching line and timbre means this is a real contender alongside hardcore Feldmanistas such as Aki Takahashi, John Tilbury (LondonHALL) and Steffen Schleiermacher (MDG). The sort of dramatic rhetoric Crumb throws around finds Osborne patrolling more familiar terrain, and A Little Suite for Christmas in particular receives a dramatically vigilant and eloquently coloured reading. Feldman and Crumb pair rather well together—but, shush, don’t tell Morty. (Gramophone)

Steven Osborne SCHUBERT Impromptus D935 - Piano Pieces D946 - Hüttenbrenner Variations D576

Steven Osborne chooses the second set of Schubert’s Impromptus and opens the sequence with the flourish of the F-minor, played crisply and dramatically, and nicely modulated in terms of expression and dynamics. It’s a subtly searching reading that is very affecting. So too the limpid beauty of the A-flat, phrased sublimely by Osborne with no need for artifice; his sensitivity unfolds a special reading, not least in the middle section where the pianist’s ear for volume and tonal variance pays many dividends. Such artlessness informs the expansive B-flat Impromptu, based on the same-key ‘Entr’acte’ from Schubert’s music for Rosamunde, given with due gravitas but without undue distension; there is also a delightful sparkle, as there is too in the F-minor ‘finale’ that here scampers along, Osborne’s clarity ensuring shapeliness, and the coda is resolute, as if a grand Sonata has been ended.

If Three Piano Pieces (prepared for posthumous publication by Brahms) seems bland as a title then each one contains remarkable music, written in the final year of Schubert’s life, and with the triptych of Piano Sonatas (D958-960) still to come. The first Piece is of drive and consolation – and Osborne gives a near-perfect account of it. He goes on to also dig deep into its E-flat successor, its heavenly (if watery) melody beautifully shaped, contrasts through the two ‘trio’ sections ideally made while retaining a wholeness of vision. The final Piece, restless then remote, eventually comes to a forceful conclusion, and is brilliantly played.

Anselm Hüttenbrenner and Schubert became close comrades in 1815 when they were pupils of Salieri. Of course, Schubert would die young, in 1828 aged 31, whereas his friend survived him by forty years. The Theme, a measured march, is from the slow movement of Hüttenbrenner’s String Quartet in E, Opus 12. The Variations that follow are attractive in their initial effortlessness, the source kept in view, and becoming more complex and imaginative, with some ear-tickling adaptations. The whole is played with sympathy and superb musicianship by Osborne, as throughout the recital, and the recording is a model of warmth and lucidity.

If you would like a one word summing up: outstanding! (Classical Source)

Steven Osborne / Paul Lewis SCHUBERT Piano Duets

'In this repertoire Lewis and Osborne are as one, touch and tone indistinguishable from one another (they swap Primo and Secondo roles throughout, apparently, though it’s impossible to tell who is playing which in what), playing with a delicious fluency and obvious affection that is a joy to hear. They open with the Allegro in A minor in a finely graded and characterised reading that puts Jenö Jandó and Illona Prunyi (12/92), for example, in the shade. To conclude, there is the great F minor Fantasie in which the incomparable opening is leant a hint of optimism, even jauntiness, before the subsequent journey to a pathetic conclusion. This is a reading that compares favourably with the benchmark recording by Radu Lupu and Murray Perahia (3/86) … this is a Schubert disc to return to and live with' (Gramophone)

'For those who were fortunate enough to be there, and just as importantly for those who missed it, this disc captures all the exuberance, finesse and camaraderie with which Steven Osborne and Paul Lewis gave their recital of Schubert duets at London’s Wigmore Hall in January. Shortly afterwards they went into the studios to record the same six works, and the result is a pure delight … The quality that shines through in these performances is the way in which Schubert so intuitively judged the special medium of the piano duet. The music is specifically imagined with four hands in mind, at times taxing from the point of view of the two pianists amicably accommodating and coordinating with one another but always with the sense that the potential for varied sonority, expressive breadth and, without doubt, a degree of fun is being broadly and knowledgeably exploited. The F minor Fantasie enshrines some of Schubert’s most sublime ideas, but his range throughout embraces vigour, subtlety, daring, charm, delicacy and drama. Osborne and Lewis have full measure of its inventive scope on a disc of outstanding, enlivening musicianship' (The Daily Telegraph)

'The Fantasie in F minor would earn its place in any list of Schubert's supreme masterpieces. Osborne and Lewis predictably reserve their finest, most perceptive playing for the Fantasie, giving its infinitely regretful main theme a different shading on each of its appearances and colouring the work's harmonic shifts and modulations impeccably. None of their performances could be described as route, though, even when the music is less than top drawer, and in works such as the A flat major Variations and the deceptively modest-sounding Allegro in A minor, both of which approach the Fantasie in scale, they find emotional depths and dramas that unmistakably identify both as products of Schubert's final year' (The Guardian)