Sergei Rachmaninov adored how Benno Moiseiwitsch played his music, and the recordings that lead off this reissue tell you why. Moiseiwitsch had it all: a gorgeous, perpetually singing tone, a supple, effortless technique, and most of all, a genuine affinity for Rachmaninov’s idiom and a sixth sense for organzing the music’s swirling polyphony into clear, logical, and flowing patterns. Many of today’s pianists milk the C-sharp minor Prelude for profundities, exaggerating the dynamics and distorting the rhythms in the name of interpretation. Or they similarly pockmark the G minor Prelude’s basic march rhythm with little rubatos and mannered pauses. Moiseiwitsch was too secure and natural a musician to partake in that kind of nonesense. He also understands how Medtner’s elusive melodies ebb and flow, and he plays his G minor Sonata plus two of the Fairy Tales with minimum fuss and maximum expression. The composer (no mean piano player himself) joins Moiseiwitsch in the Round Dance for Two Pianos.
Comparing Moiseiwitsch in Kabalevsky’s derivative yet effective Third Sonata is a matter of apples and oranges. Moiseiwitsch opts for quicker basic tempos in all three movements and plays down the music’s angular bite in favor of long-lined elegance. Horowitz, by contrast, employs a wider dynamic range and more cutting, propulsive articulation. Similarly, Moiseiwitsch takes Prokofiev’s Suggestion Diabolique at a soaring clip, removing the percussive edge from the music’s piston-like rhythmic patterns. The same holds true for Khachaturian’s Toccata and Oscar Levant’s deliciously unsubtle transcription of the notorious Sabre Dance. While Ward Marston’s transfers are clear and honest, I notice a higher than usual degree of source-material wear and tear. That said, Moiseiwitsch lovers who’ve collected previous volumes in this series need not hesitate, especially at Naxos’ budget price. [1/15/2004]
