Compelling and absorbing performances, and proof that Roger Woodward's interpretative powers extend far beyond the confines of the contemporary, avant-garde music with which he is normally associated. Having had to give less than favourable reviews to both Donna Amato and Kun Woo Paik (see above), it's good to be able to greet a Scriabin issue with enthusiasm and no major reservations. For a start, Woodward has been far better served by his recording engineers and piano technicians, but more importantly, perhaps, is the feeling that these performances have been arrived at after a long standing relationship with the music.
Bearing in mind Woodward's championship of contemporary music, you would be forgiven for expecting these interpretations to be heavily biased toward a modernistic approach—but they are not. Instead, what we have are performances that strike a perfect balance between romanticism and modernism, emotion and intellect. Perhaps for these very reasons they will not be to everyone's taste, but I for one have not heard such authoritative, intelligent and questing performances of Scriabin's late works for a long time.
One of Woodward's most impressive qualities is his ability in the many shorter pieces (some last barely 30 seconds) to reveal ''worlds in a grain of sand''—in the hands of other pianists, pieces like ''Guirlandes'', Op. 73 No. 1 or ''Masque'', Op. 63 No. 1, often come over as isolated curiosities—the flotsam and jetsam of an asteroid belt—but here they are minor planets inextricably linked by gravity to the larger bodies made up of the sonatas. Space does not permit an in-depth description of the marvels that Woodward brings to these smaller pieces, but I would single out the two Dances, Op. 73, the second of the two Preludes, Op. 67 (a veritable cosmic shimmer here), Vers la flamme and the three spell-binding Etudes, Op. 65 as particularly rewarding and enlightening performances. As for the sonatas (Nos. 6 and 10), well, these are certainly amongst the most structurally convincing accounts on disc—Woodward has clearly charted this territory carefully before proceeding. In these works, crystalline clarity is usually only to be had at the expense of a less emotionally charged performance—but not here; Woodward combines both in what transpire to be two of the most logical and at the same time highly compelling accounts available. The Tenth exemplifies Woodward's linear approach to this music, with the material gradually opening out into even wider and more expansive vistas, and in the Sixth, where his extremely wide dynamic range is heard to considerable advantage, we find some extremely chilling and atmospheric playing indeed. Perhaps not quite as spine-chilling as Szidon (DG), it's pretty galvanizing stuff all the same.
There are no disappointments to speak of really, save perhaps a slightly misjudged tempo in the fifth of the Five Preludes Op. 74 (too fast I think), and of course the fact that there are no plans at present to follow this with the remainder of the late piano sonatas. Most strongly recommended.'