Yes, the pundits were right. This is the Rachmaninov Third to end all Rachmaninov Thirds, a performance of such super-human pianistic aplomb, pace and virtuosity that it makes all comparisons, save with Horowitz himself (expertly charted in the accompanying essay by Michael Glover) a study in irrelevance. It was Horowitz’s 1930 recording with Albert Coates that made Artur Rubinstein pale with envy before he turned very nasty indeed; goodness knows how he would have reacted had he heard Horowitz and Barbirolli! Taken from a 1941 New York broadcast (with apologies from the producer for snaps, crackles, pops and the like) Horowitz’s tumultuous, near-apocalyptic brilliance includes all his unique and tirelessly debated attributes; his swooning rubato, thundering bass and splintering treble, his explosive attack, his super-erotic inflexions and turns of phrase. Try the skittering scherzando variation just before the close of the central Intermezzo and note how the pianist’s velocity eclipses even his legendary recording with Fritz Reiner. His acceleration out of this movement and into the finale affects one like suddenly applied centrifugal force and his pace and verve continue unabated to last pages that are indeed vivacissimo and un poco meno mosso rather than portentous or over-blown. The reeling figuration at 5'39'' will make you wonder when you have heard such dizzying speed and articulacy or sheerly visceral excitement. Overall here is a reading to ravish the senses and set even the most jaded heartbeat racing.
This ultimate wizard of the keyboard is in expansive mood in the Tchaikovsky (swilling the second subject around like so much port and revelling in quasi-improvisatory opportunities in the cadenza). There are ample rewards, too, for those who rejoice in Horowitz at his most clamorous, for the thunder and lightning of this ‘Tornado from the Steppes’. The performance ends in what I can only describe as a scream of octaves and an outburst by an audience driven near to hysteria. Barbirolli and the New York Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra are equal to just about every twist and turn of their volatile soloist’s argument and so these performances (and most notably the finale of the Rachmaninov) are, quite simply, beyond price. Rachmaninov himself was present for his own Third Concerto and must surely have felt like Chopin listening to Liszt play his Studies (“Liszt is playing my Studies and transporting me out of respectable thought. I should like to steal from him the way to play my own Studies”).'