After so much Mozart, it's good to be reminded that there were other composers who helped Mitsuko Uchida to her second prize at Leeds in 1975. Both these Chopin performances reaffirm that she has fingers sturdy enough to uphold every dictate of a warmly romantic heart. The gem of the B flat minor Sonata is the Funeral March itself. For this she allows herself a minute and a quarter longer than Kimura Parker in his new Telarc/Conifer issue, and in consequence every step sounds just that much more laden. The movement's stature is also enhanced by her wide dynamic range. The central Trio has an Elysian purity and calm, with its melody beautifully floated. I certainly prefer her restraint in meeting the crescendo in its second half to Ashkenazy's more urgent response (Decca). Nevertheless, in the eerie, windswept finale it is Ashkenazy's lighter touch that sends just a few more shivers down your spine. In the first movement, launched with breathless urgency, I felt some momentary loss of impulse when the second subject is first introduced. But the really controversial feature here is her replaying of the Grave introduction when repeating the exposition instead of entering at the customary doppio movimento in bar 5. It sounds so illogical that I even wondered if my review copy contained some editorial error destined for later removal.
It was the slow movement that again moved me most in Uchida's Op. 58, despite its over hasty initial octave challenge: the startling change of key and dynamics in the third bar are sufficient in themselves to transport us into a new world without any change of tempo. For the rest, her phrasing and shading are exquisitely poetic, especially in the self-communing intimacies of the central (sostenuto) section. Ideally, perhaps, the quavers of the Scherzo could have been dissolved into a still lighter and more aqueous flow, just as the finale could have brought more cumulative excitement if not quite so much had been thrown in right from the start—in the eight-bar introduction with its crescendo (which she ignores) no less than the movement as a whole. In the face of masculine rivals like Ashkenzy, Pollini (DG), Gilels and Rubinstein, to name just a few, you might also feel that her first movement lacks its full, glowing majesty—in part because of insufficiently sustained rhythmic tension. All that said, like its companion it still remains a warmly sympathetic, romantic reading, as competitive as any on the feminine front. And as always her engineers ensure that her piano sounds wholly natural.'