Freire spans Brahms' keyboard output from go to whoa.

Canadian pianist Angela Hewitt initially became known for her Bach but lately she has ranged farther afield with composers such as Chabrier and Fauré. The last eight years have seen her gradually recording the complete Beethoven piano sonatas. This is the first disc in that series I have heard, and it is just terrific. In this program, Hewitt brings together the sunniest of the late sonatas (No 28, Op 101), the wittiest of the middle period sonatas (No 18: Op 31, No 3) and the rarely played Sonata No 11, Op 27. Without going to inappropriate extremes, she relishes dynamic contrasts and pays attention to detail with unfailing subtlety –yet, far from sounding studied, her playing retains a sense of spontaneity. Take the Allegro finale of the A Major sonata: Switching unexpectedly from exuberance to tenderness, intimate one moment and forthright the next, Hewitt makes it sound like a brilliant improvisation. Hewitt’s thoughtful, responsive performance of Sonata No 11 makes one wonder why the piece is not more popular (competition is fierce among the Beethoven sonatas, admittedly!) The first and third movements show us the composer in a playful mood, handling musical motifs like a juggler, while the second movement…

When Heifetz told Schoenberg that he could not possibly perform the latter’s Violin Concerto unless his own left hand were to acquire a sixth finger, the composer allegedly replied: “I can wait.” Perhaps a similar sentiment governs the harpsichordist confronted with Handel’s decidedly tricky solo pieces.  On paper they might not look overpoweringly difficult; but often they fall awkwardly under the hands, in a manner which Richard Egarr’s impressive booklet essay compares to Brahms’ pianistic style. At least the piano has a sustaining pedal to help out with polyphonic interplay (Glenn Gould, Sviatoslav Richter and Andrei Gavrilov all tackled these works). No such luck with the harpsichord. Besides, stylistic problems – greater than anything in Bach’s English Suites or French Suites – also bedevil the player. How Handelian should they seem, given that their free-and-easy preludes echo the French clavecinistes, and their intricate counterpoint passages do not resemble much in the oratorios or concerti grossi? Altogether it is unsurprising, if regrettable, that (except for everybody’s favourite movement, The Harmonious Blacksmith concluding Suite No 5) this music has been traditionally underestimated. Egarr’s curiously frivolous interpretations seem to me unlikely to win converts. The man has technical brilliance to burn, but he rarely…

Austrian conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt has been one of classical music’s great iconoclasts now for well over 50 years. Always challenging our preconceptions, he invariably comes up with something fresh and this delightful double disc is no exception. His stated aim is to create a “revolution” in the way we listen to 19th-century dance music, and in particular the waltz which he sees as reflecting a social shift from high-brow, concert hall fare to a genuinely egalitarian music. He also makes a good case that Strauss and Lanner’s dance bands may well have outshone the Viennese court and theatre orchestras in technique and ability to master a wide repertoire. So how does he go about convincing us? First of all, he uses Concentus Musicus Wien, his own period band. That smaller, leaner string tone helps, but in addition, Harnoncourt conjures up all manner of different tones with no less than ten different types of trumpet and five different types of clarinet! In a word, he takes the “sound” seriously and I must say he has a great deal of fun along the way. His starting point is Mozart’s late dance music which frequently utilises “Turkish” instrumentation to express Austria’s confidence in…

This is an odd coupling. The notes don’t help explain the collation of these disparate works except for the conductor’s rather vaguely argued affection for both pieces. Brahms comes out of it best as Pasternack gives the great work due weight, although the performance loses energy in the development section of the first movement. Bartók is a different matter. The Miraculous Mandarin was the final stage work of one of the key composers of the 20th century. It is set in a brothel, where thugs use an attractive young girl to draw men in to murder and rob them. The music is remarkable and the composer uses all his skills in conjuring up the lurid world described. Feverish strings rush us forward into the score, and the composer’s trademarks of sliding trombones and exotic percussion are employed to great effect. However, the piece had a rocky start. The controversial ballet so horrified the original audience in Cologne in 1926 that it was withdrawn after one performance, after which it was suppressed due to censorship for many years. There are many recordings of the piece. Bartók’s countryman Antal Doráti’s tough and muscular approach can be heard on a fine old Mercury CD…

Back then, the beauty of the best analog recordings was lost in the ferocity of the digital age. It took more than a decade before most studio technicians had developed the skill – or the ear – to again record with natural audio spaciousness and bloom. In this set, the opening waltz is marred by a hard jangly sound in the upper register. It’s impossible to tell if this is from the recording methodology, or studio ambience, microphone placement or from the piano itself, but it sets a discordant tone right from the start. Things do improve as the set continues, but this is a disappointing reading of the waltzes. It seems a rather perfunctory reading. Slower passages in particular, as in the Op 34 No. 3, the Valse Brillante, sound just tired rather than deliciously languid. There are far better accounts of the Chopin Waltzes. The outstanding set, from Romanian pianist Dinu Lipatti, also comes from EMI and is my definite preferred set. The only reason this Jean-Philippe Collard recording could augment a collection is that it collects all 19 waltzes, including four posthumous compositions which are missing from the Lipatti recording.