I must applaud Nikolai Petrov's imaginative approach to programme-planning. After the remarkable CD of Paganini-inspired piano works containing his stupendous account of the 1838 version of the Liszt Paganini Etudes ( OCD144 12/87), we now have two more discs that also follow a thematic format. The contents of each have been chosen so as to give a historical survey of a particular aspect of piano music, thus continuing the tradition set by Anton Rubinstein in his historical concerts of the mid-1880s.
The French music opens with two of Rameau's harpsichord pieces played on the piano. Sadly Les cyclopes (incidentally, too slow in tempo) is rather spoilt by some disturbing clicks. Petrov's handling contains a mish-mash of styles and in La poule the repetitive notation becomes tedious on the piano We then jump over a century into the less familiar territory of Bizet's piano music. The composer was an accomplished pianist and these two pieces of 1868 not only confirm the gift for melody but they also contain some remarkably effective writing. Petrov plays the left-hand arpeggio accompaniment of the Nocturne with a superb liquidity, and the cadenza-like interludes and rich polyphony hint strongly at Faure. The Variations which were recorded for CBS (LP only) by the late Glenn Gould, deserve to be heard. After the portentiously solemn theme one is presented with one variation after another of fascinating originality. Brahms here, Alkan there, a Chopin-like polonaise—Bizet uses the range of the instrument with great skill, and Petrov meets the different styles with a great variety of pianistic devices.
I have heard him perform the complete Saint-Saens Second Piano Concerto in solo form at the Queen Elizabeth Hall and it was quite a feat. But I do feel that Bizet has been too clever by half in combining the two parts, and the overall impression is that there is just too much going on. Regarding the Toccata, my view of this piece has been irremediably shaped by performances by such pianists as Darre, de la Bruchollerie and Ringeissen, and Petrov does not quite match these—there is somehow not enough exuberance and abandon. The Etude en forme d'une valse however, is comparable to any version I've heard and though undeniably silly, it remains a stunning encore piece in the right hands.
The Rameau Variations of Dukas is amongst the most important and intellectually secure of French piano works from the turn of the century and though Brahms's Handel Variations was presumably a model, it is known that Dukas was studying late Beethoven sonatas during this period. The variations do not stray very far from the thematic material. Petrov makes a tour de force of the piece, excepting that the lighter moments are a little short on humour.
The 1894 set of Debussy's Images, which has now been recorded by half a dozen or so artists, does not really stand up to the Petrov treatment. There is little sense of atmosphere here and little appreciation of the composer's innocent wonderment at the spatial element in music. The third one is played with a manic virtuosity more reminiscent of Stravinsky. It is impossible as Debussy. The Ravel piece is rather in the same genre as the Golliwog's Cakewalk.
The CD of fantasias generally presents more familiar repertoire. It was recorded recently in this country, whereas the other one is taken from performances on Melodiya discs. Neither the C. P. E. Bach nor the Mozart is really convincing. There is little humanity in the latter and the trite treatment of the Andantino section indicates a suspect allegiance to classical style. Petrov goes through the right motions in phrasing, rather than it emanating from something that he feels deeply.
Skirting the musical demands of the Beethoven G minor Fantasy, we are treated next to the Mendelssohn F sharp minor Sonate ecossaise. I felt that a greater sense of classical form would have been apt here, though I can't deny finding the pianist's post-Rachmaninov view exciting. The detail of the left-hand part in the finale is tantalizing.
Of course Petrov's Brahms, with its blatant use of power and virtuosity, has little to do with the tradition of Backhaus, Kempff, Brendel et al., and despite there being a simple poise in the E major Intermezzo, the impression is that his Brahms is one-sided. Liszt's Don Juan Fantasy is far more his metier, and predictably it receives a massive treatment. This performance bears comparison with the greatest performances of the piece, but somehow the cheekiness of Cherkassky eludes him, as does the overall culture of Ginzburg's reading. The vocal associations are not reflected in Petrov's piano-playing. I was mesmerized by the sheer speed of the notes, rather than being attracted to the music they were expressing. However, this full version, which avoids easier ossias, is admirable. Petrov can hold his own against any of today's breed of technically-orientated gladiators.'