This is an expansion of the five-LP boxed set (6725 013) which I reviewed last November. What Philips have done is to add the contents of two further discs: ''Vallee d'Obermann'', Ballade No. 2, ''Sonetti'' 104 and 123, ''Les jeux d'eaux a la Villa d'Este'' and Valse oubliee No. 1 are from SAL3783 (8/70), while the Dante Sonata, ''Funerailles'' and the Chopin Chants polonais are new. What collectors who have already bought the eralier boxed set will say about this I do not know, but, having commented so recently on most of these performances, I will concentrate on the newly-added pieces.
The recording of the Dante Sonata perpetuates the remarkable interpretations Arrau has been giving at his recitals during the past two seasons. It has extraordinary weight and spaciousness, with the several different climates of feeling integrated at a profound level. Like the versions by Brendel (Philips 6500 420, 11/73) and Berman (DG 2709 076, 12/77—unfortunately deleted, but my own current favourite), it leaves no doubt that this is a great work. It should be studied along with Kurt Masur's account of the Dante Symphony (HMV SLS5235, 11/81). Arrau's readings convey, indeed, a unique impression of size, ''Funerailles'' being another example.
Here processional majesty is established with uncommonly slow tremolos at the start, though he is very deliberate also with the following lefthand melody. Instructive comparisons can be made with Bolet (Decca digital SXDL7596, 3/83) and Horowitz. The former is sombre, nearly oppressive, while in the latter's 1950 mono recording (RCA VH006, 6/74—nla) the introverted refinement brought to the earlier pages creates its own sort of intensity. Arrau reminds us that the Chants polonais cover a quite wide emotional range, particularly Nos. 4 and 5. Here, and in No. 3, every note has been thoughtfully weighed, yet the results have a charmingly spontaneous virtuosity.
For sceptics it will perhaps be a comment on the composer as much as on the performer if one says that in ''Vallee d'Obermann'' Arrau's complete resources are engaged—and in the early, pianistically simple pages as much as later. There is no Brendelian irony here, and the tremolos in the recitativo section are as menacing as a mountain avalanche, the colours darker than in Berman's fine interpretation (DG 2709 076, 12/77—nla). The Petrarch items emphasize, however, that we are listening here to a somewhat different Arrau. Like the B minor Sonata, which originally came out in 1972, these warmly glowing performances date from the early days of his return to Liszt. The new recordings dealt with in my second paragraph, like the concertos (1981) or even the Etudes d'execution transcendante (1978), show changes of emphasis.
Or rather there is a sense of growth which unites them all. An exception is Arrau's strangely laboured account of Valse oubliee No. 1 which compares unfavourably with say, Curzon's version (Decca SXL6076, 11/63). Too bad it was not replaced by the missing ''Sonetto 47''. Far more characteristic, obviously, is ''Jeux d'eaux a la Villa d'este'', this second version of which, set down in 1969, 40 years after the first (HMV mono RLS7712, 2/83), conveys a deeper and more subtle message. All the time Arrau burrows away, getting closer to the essence of things; and it is as well that these recordings convey his sound as vividly as they do.
The three items new to the UK will be issued next month on a single disc.'