Each new Steven Osborne release seems to guarantee world-class pianism, intelligent musicianship, and interpretations that never take composers for granted. And that’s precisely what this Russian recital delivers. Osborne begins Mussorgsky’s Pictures from an Exhibition (note that Osborne translates the title more truthfully than the less accurate yet universally accepted “Pictures at an Exhibition”) with an unusually brisk and forthright Promenade. In Gnomus, Osborne manages to make the low-lying trills both melodic and menacing, and, unlike most pianists, does not rush the upbeat C-flat leading into the final velocissimo outburst.
An unwavering G-sharp bass ostinato lilts gently yet maintains a strong, anchoring presence throughout Osborne’s beautifully sustained account of The Old Castle. The pianist effects characterful contrasts in Tuileries by playing the outer sections in fairly strict tempo and shaping the central episode with whimsical, tasteful modifications of the basic pulse. He roughens up Bydlo’s churning left-hand chords so that they’re as much in the forefront as the ominous main melody, thereby helping to justify an unusually slow tempo. Likewise, the quicker, lighter Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks stands out by virtue of Osborne’s uncommonly present left hand and distinct articulation.
If the repeated notes in the Two Polish Jews movement are slightly understated, the rhetorical opening theme is more than sufficiently foreboding. Osborne rightly resists the temptation to hustle his way through the Limoges marketplace, opting for a tempo that allows the rapid left-hand chords equal say in relation to the right-hand melody, and also lets you hear the coda’s broken chords build to a climax that’s not frenetic or pounded out. In Con mortuis in lingua mortua, Osborne plays the right-hand tremolos with a kind of disembodied restraint that provides an appropriately eerie backdrop to the left hand’s chorale-like chords. Lastly, Osborne follows an incisive, sharply accented Baba Yaga with a broader than usual yet cumulatively radiant Great Gate at Kiev. Some listeners might prefer a brighter, more scintillating approach here (Ashkenazy, Richter, Berman), yet Osborne’s un-self-regarding grandeur grows on you.
In Prokofiev’s Visions Fugitives, Osborne is stricter with regard to Prokofiev’s dynamics, tempos, and articulations than Evgeny Koroliov, Nikolai Demedenko, and Olli Mustonen, yet proves more nuanced and less predictable. For example, while many pianists phrase No. 6 with relatively foursquare scansion, Osborne’s less conventional accentuation shifts the melodic emphasis; in addition, Osborne resists toying around with No. 11’s decorative flourishes, and plays them in tempo but with carefully scaled and dramatically gauged dynamics. The early Op. 17 Sarcasms also deserve admiration for Osborne’s marked dynamic contrasts and his ability to play the music’s aggressive, motoric qualities to the hilt while giving judicious attention to the moments of lyrical respite. David Fanning’s annotations give welcome and useful historical contexts for each of the works, and Hyperion’s engineering reflects the label’s usual high standards. A most rewarding release; highly recommended.
