There are two incontrovertible facts regarding Mikhail Pletnev: he's a phenomenal pianist and he's never dull. While some players struggle to inject originality into familiar works in the canon (see my review of Evgeny Kissin's recent performance of Beethoven's Third Piano Concerto with the LSO here), Pletnev seems constitutionally unable to produce a sensible, middle of the road performance: he's hard-wired to challenge, infuriate and delight. If his pianism was anything less than totally commanding, his interpretative quirks would be simply eccentric and misguided. As it is, I find the result in this new recording of Beethoven's Second and Fourth Piano Concertos compelling.
I can imagine that these performances, where nothing is taken for granted, will polarise opinion. The back cover of this CD quotes a review of the first instalment in the cycle by the San Francisco Chronicle: 'interpretations that are at once wholly original and entirely free of wilful idiosyncrasy.' There's no doubting the first part of this statement; whether or not you agree with the second part will be down to personal taste.
For me, the moments of 'wilful idiosyncrasy' – the most obvious being the deliberately unrefined rendition of the Fourth Concerto's opening solo – are outweighed by the moments of originality. Also, the pianism on display is quite simply breathtaking. With Pletnev's fingers totally at the command of his interpretative vision, this is one of the most refreshing Beethoven discs I've heard in a long while. The fact that Pletnev chooses to perform on a Blüthner concert grand, a noticeably mellower and less percussive sounding instrument than the Steinways (or occasional Bösendorfers) we're used to hearing, only adds to the recording's refreshing nature.
To try and sum up Pletnev's approach is an extremely difficult task. With their impish impetuosity these don't sound like interpretations that have been studiously conceived. They are improvisatory, fluid, free and a touch iconoclastic. Usually a listener can pick up the hallmarks of an interpretative approach and predict, with a certain accuracy, how those hallmarks will be applied throughout the rest of a work. This is impossible with Pletnev. For example, in the Rondo of the Second Concerto, he plays the main theme with a certain deliberate heaviness of touch, giving it the quality of some sort of rustic dance. Then his lightness of touch and playfulness during the passagework at 0'45 is scintillating, anything but agricultural. This is perhaps the most totally successful movement on the disc, which with its Haydnesque humour and rhythmic surprises – the syncopated passage from 2'20 is once again given the pesante treatment, to delightful effect – seems designed for the more mischievous approach.
The first movement of the Second Concerto once again provides contrast between unexpected emphases (in imitative passages, the left hand is always emphasised; offbeat chords, usually treated as accompaniment, are given a life of their own) and wonderfully crystalline passagework and buoyant triplet arpeggios. There are brief glimpses of visionary lyricism and the occasional unconventional ornament. Pletnev is at his most experimental in the cadenza and almost seems to treat it as a demonstration in pedalling and voicing – as pianism it's mightily impressive but is also eccentric in the extreme. In the Adagio there are some beautiful moments of lyricism and the momentary surges in tempo distort the melodic line unexpectedly, stretching the movement's fabric but, in my view at least, stopping just short of tearing it.
Pletnev's approach in the Fourth Concerto is similar but here he does teeter slightly closer to the edge of reasonable interpretative choice. As I've already mentioned, the concerto's opening bars are the first to fall foul of this unorthodox treatment, plonked out unceremoniously as they are. It's difficult to understand this decision because Pletnev's technique is ideally suited to so much of the rest of the concerto; I don't think I've ever heard all that fast passagework dispatched with such facility and legerdemain. I challenge anyone not to be exhilarated by his sweep up and down the keyboard at 2'21 in the Rondo, or the effortless facility with which he despatches the triplet arpeggios in the same movement – listen, for example, at 5'00 and as he skitters across the keyboard at piano. But still he can't help but throw in the unexpected surprise here and there, not all of which are successful. Why, for example, the emphasis of the off-beat chord that appears at the end of the piano's statement of the Rondo theme?
Throughout, the contribution of the Russian National Orchestra conducted by Christian Gansch is beyond reproach and wisely there is no attempt to translate any of Pletnev's individuality into the orchestra, although they do achieve much of the pianist's lightness.
This could never be a first choice 'library' recommendation for these works. However, when there are so many fine but rather conventional performances out there, it's truly refreshing to hear performances that keep you on the edge of your seat like this. Pletnev continues to delight and infuriate but in this case I found myself delighted on many more occasions than I was infuriated. I would prescribe this disc as a potent antidote to anyone who worries about being over-familiar with these masterpieces. A quick dose of this will cure you of any complacency.
By Hugo Shirley