Bartok - Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion

I've finally started to approach of what is billed as one of Bartok's most masterful compositions: the Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion (1937). It's a work that I do not know well at all. I listened to it a couple of times a long time ago. As it struck me then as intimidatingly sparse and angular, I didn't return to it until now.

I have four recordings in my collection: Perahia/Solti with David Corkhill and Evelyne Glennie; Argerich/Kovacevich with Willy Goudswaard and Michael De Roo; Frid/Ponse with members of the LSO and conducted by Antal Dorati. These three are on CD. Then there is Ranki/Kocsis with Ferenc Petz and Jozsef Marton on an Hungaroton LP.

I have listened to them all, most intensely to the Argerich/Kovacevich. It seems this is the recording that has most to offer. The CD transfer of the analogue recording (1977) is very good and the interpretation has reference qualities. Switching to the Perahia/Solti immediately afterwards is like a cold shower. I've commented on the sterility of the CD transfer in a previous post. It's really lethal, whatever the qualities this quartet of musicians brings to bear. The Mercury Presence recording, part of the Dorati set, is really very good. I need to listen to it more closely. Finally, the Hungaroton recording with Ranki and Kocsis is not to be discounted. It's a very tempestuous reading, which is not surprising given the youthfulness of the interpreters (there's no recording date, but judging from the pictures in the lavishly produced booklet Kocsis can't have been much older than 20). The recording is rather bright, with the pianos a little recessed. But the percussion sounds livelier than on any of the CDs.

I'm going to take my time with this. Interestingly, the music doesn't strike me as harsh or severe. It's eminently approachable. I must have assimilated some of Bartok's idiom in this exploration. But on the other hand, something in this whole endeavour is driving me crazy. Contrary to, say, Mahler or Beethoven with whom you can develop a certain familiarity as a result of a lot of listening, Bartok remains a very elusive composer. It's not only the complexity of the music (of which I only have faint intimations). There is something unfathomable about both the music and the personality behind it. The more I listen, the weirder it gets.