Many years after its composition in 1834 Liszt's De profundis, a piano concerto with a difference, only now receives its first performances and recordings. The score has been lovingly prepared by Michael Maxwell, a Canadian composer, who journeyed to Weimar to decipher Liszt's writing. He provides a mysteriously missing coda (characteristically, Liszt was side-tracked by his mistress of the moment, Marie d'Agoult, and failed to complete his work) and has prepared a viable performing edition. Coincidentally another scholar, Jay Rosenblatt of America, was hard at work on the same project at the same time and his edition can be heard on Steven Mayer's ASV recording where it was coupled with the recently discovered Third Piano Concerto and Busoni's fascinating edition of the Totentanz; a jackdaw's mix of paste and jewels that received short shrift from DJF in his review (though he was full of praise for Mayer's exceptionally fine performances).
Inspired by Liszt's early friendship with the Abbe Felicite de Lamennais, De profundis darkly and wryly reflects Lamennais's courageous dismissal of the more right-wing aspects of Roman Catholicism, a candour which profoundly influenced the always susceptible young Liszt. Aficionados will recognize many of Liszt's thumb-prints and the prophecy of much to come, notably the unique solace and desolation of Pensee des morts (itself based on an earlier version composed at the same time as De profundis). Certainly my own initial sense of self-indulgence, of needlessly protracted ideas, was erased on repetition and I was finally left to admire music of ''stunning orig-inality'' (Alan Walker in his accompanying notes). Here surely is a striking instance of how Liszt's early genius can turn his listener's first responses topsy-turvy.
Of the two available performances Philip Thomson's is unquestionably the more dramatic; no mean consideration in music where drama and intensity are of the essence. Maxwell's completion, too, provides a satisfying alternative to the enigmatic close on Mayer's disc. Yet as anyone who has heard Mayer's subsequent Thalberg and Liszt recital (also on ASV, 12/92) will know, this young American pianist is a master of understatement, invariably tempering flamboyance with tact and style. In the long solo commencing at 14'22'' he is more aware than Thomson of how easily such music can topple into melodrama and at 1A18B his ease and grace with Liszt's gently cascading figuration are hauntingly apposite. Tamas Vasary's partnership with Mayer is also highly distinguished (hardly surprisingly from so fine a Lisztian). On the other hand Maxwell's labour of love clarifies Liszt's writing more successfully than Rosenblatt's and Thomson is more satisfactorily balanced than Mayer. Mayer's glitter may be stylishly subdued but too often it is reduced to an obbligato, an effect Liszt can hardly have intended.
Couplings are a further consideration and here Mayer is the more audacious. His Totentanz is among the best in the catalogue and the final appearance of Psalm 130 (Out of the depths have I cried to thee, O Lord) which permeates De profundis adds a sombre and unifying touch to his programme. Of Thomson's couplings, the Schubert/Liszt is perhaps more capable than inspired but his virtuosity in the riotous Ruins of Athens Fantasy is superb. A case of swings and roundabouts then, though Steven Mayer's offering of no less than three world premiere recordings will surely clinch the issue for most readers.'