The American pianist Julius Katchen made his name in the early 1950s and died in 1969, but although one thinks of him as a distinguished figure from the last generation, it is salutary to realize that he would only have been in his early sixties today if his career had not ended when he was only 42. Even so, his legacy of recordings reminds us of his gifts and the breadth of his repertory, and the present Brahms cycle made between 1962 and 1966 has distinction.
It begins with an account of the Paganini Variations that gives ample proof of his splendidly assured technique: the playing tells us at once that the challenging variations in sixths (Nos. 1 and 2 in Book 1) held no terrors for him, and the gritty athleticism here is matched by a pearly fluency in the leggiero writing of the variation that follows. In general, though, he makes one more aware of a keyboard virtuoso in this work (the octave variation, No. 7, provides another example, as does its vigorous successor), rather than a poet; though the music accepts this I have heard performances which balance these two qualities more finely. Tempos tend to rapidity, too, and the piano sound to a hardish brilliance. Furthermore, the pianist seems reluctant to play with a feeling of intimacy, as if he were thinking in terms of a large concert hall rather than a studio—listen, for example, to the F major, 6/8 Variation No. 12 in Book 2 to see what I mean. However, he does bring a gentler quality to the three other sets of variations here, not least in his freer use of rubato and tonal nuance, as witness (say) the serene Variations Nos. 11-12 in the big Handel set, where the recording from three years earlier is easier on the ear too. Here, as elsewhere, there is a little tape hiss, but it is not enough to distract.
I seem to have grudged my praise over the Paganini Variations, so let me say at once that poetry is to be found in good measure in Katchen's playing of the Four Ballades, Op. 10. These pieces belie the composer's youth in their deep introspection, though the pianist takes a brisk view of the Andante con moto tempo in No. 4. The 16 Waltzes of Op. 39 are attractive too in their crispness and charm, and the early Scherzo in E flat minor has the right dour vigour. The three sonatas are also impressive in their strong, energetic interpretative grasp, though one could wish that the first-movement repeat of No. 1 had been observed. Also, slow movements could have a still more inward quality to convey that brooding self-communion which is so characteristic of this composer (though that of Sonata No. 3 in F minor is pretty near it). Just once or twice, too, as in the finale of the C major, I felt that a fast tempo was just that shade quicker than it should be and that the virtuoso was taking precedence over the interpreter (here, Katchen chooses a different pace for the more lyrical writing, which also makes the music rather sectional). But the great F minor Sonata is spacious and thoughtful as well as leonine, and this is a noble performance, well recorded in 1966.
The shorter pieces are finely done also. Katchen is in his element in the Two Rhapsodies of Op. 79, balancing their stormy and lyrical qualities to perfection. The Fantasias, Op. 116, are not so well recorded (the sound is a bit muffled, as if the engineers wished to tame the pianist's attack). However, the playing is masterly and Katchen's sympathy for the idiom is evident, with tenderness, tragedy, twilight mystery and storm and stress fully playing their part and giving a golden glow to such pieces as the lovely E major Intermezzo which is No. 6 of the set and the A major Intermezzo, Op. 118, No. 2. Possibly more sensuous gipsy charm could be found in, say, the B minor Capriccio of Op. 76, but this is still very attractive playing and the playful C major Intermezzo in Op. 119 is delightful, as is the tender lullaby that begins Op. 117. Only the first 10 of the 21 Hungarian Dances exist in the composer's own (extremely difficult) version for piano solo, and in the others, written for piano duet, Katchen is joined by Jean-Pierre Marty; there's plenty of fire here and much to enjoy. Altogether, this Brahms set is a fine memorial to Katchen and a worthy issue, and although the six discs are not available separately they are at mid price and purchasers should not be disappointed.'