Pierre-Laurent Aimard, piano
BERG : Sonata; BEETHOVEN : Appassionata; LISZT : Legend 2; Debussy, Ligeti, Messiaen
Teldec 43088 – 75:46
With Pierre-Laurent Aimard, nothing is left to chance, as his program of his Carnegie Hall recital of December 3, 2001 attests. Connoisseurs will appreciate the aquatic reflections as well as the play of correspondences among the pieces, punctuated by the witty aphorisms of this architect-like pianist. His interpretations might also surprise us, even though they are the fruit of a long maturing process and of a constant rethinking his craft. Berg, Ligeti and Messiaen have been his daily bread since the beginning of a career marked by studies with Yvonne Loriod, a first prize in the Messiaen Competition in Royan, and time spent with the Ensemble Intercontemporain. He has developed a style that is without equal; as a pianist of his time, he brings a new perception that flushes out myths, questions traditions and challenges worn-out cliches.
At first hearing, this recording might seem to be the work of a somewhat provocative iconoclast. It is unusual for a pianist to play Berg’s Sonata with such romantic luminosity, to emphasize the modernist elements of the Appassionata, and to erase all trace of heroism in Liszt. The more often one listens, however, the more Aimard’s manner of rubbing tradition the wrong way seems justified by a strong coherency that nonetheless leaves room for discussion. This is certainly not a recording one will tire of quickly.
Berg’s Sonata is a rare jewel. Right from the opening upbeat, it breathes with the energy needed to give shape to the underlying structure that generates the asyndeton so nostalgically. Rubato, ecstasy, hesitation, fits of anger, all the elements of passion are concentrated around the melodic line. By comparison, Pollini approaches this sonata as a master of Apollonian esthetics, his construction cool and distanced. Gould seems to exult in propelling the work towards a Nirvana that is his alone and delivers a reading that is almost illuminated. Aimard imposes a more humane vision, arising out of a suave lyricism and echoing the music of pre-war Vienna.
The first movement of the Appassionata provides the same sense of breathing. But here the passion gives way to a ranginess that is often quite articulated. This is even more evident in the second movement where the melodic line is truncated and the bass sonorities are inelegant. In the final movement, Aimard maintains a cool distance that is never compromised by emotional outpourings. In the coda, a well-controlled maelstrom leads to a dignified conclusion that lasts until the final chord.
In the second Legend of Liszt, Aimard strives to reduce the romantic impulses in order to emphasize the modernity of the piece and its architectural structure. He is the master of his construction, controlling the rhythmic and harmonic progressions while striking a balance between the different sound levels in order to plunge into the depths of the work.
The first of Debussy’s two Images, ‘Reflets dans l’eau’, is an example of limpidity. The second, ‘Poisson d’Or’, proves curiously and excessively realistic. Aimard’s playing here is not evocative, but has the feel of a slightly too tremulous seguidilla. On the other hand, the style of number eleven of Messiaen’s Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant Jésus is very convincing.
Anyone who has never heard Aimard’s interpretation of Ligeti’s Etudes is missing an incomparable musical experience. Just listen to ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’, played as an encore at his Carnegie Hall recital, to be convinced. The French pianist turns into an entomologist who invites us to discover rare sonorous specimens, quasi-unknown to his 88-key instrument.
VILLEMIN
Published in American Record Guide, Vol. 65, N. 4