In the wake of the Lang Lang concert, I relistened to a recording of the Chopin op. 25 Etudes by Roustem Saitkoulov, a relatively young Russian pianist of Tatar descent. In 1999 he got the opportunity to record a very fine album for EMI in their Debut series dedicated to Etudes from an eclectic mix of composers (in addition to Chopin also the Russians Arensky, Stravinsky, Scriabin, and Prokofiev). However, after trailing the internet I must conclude that in the meantime his career has not been able to capitalise on this initial success. In any case, his discography is very limited. That does not diminish in any way the pleasure I've had over the years in listening to his rendering of the Chopin Etudes. It's a great interpretation and for me frankly remains the best I've heard. Saitkoulov welds the different strains in this music - supremely lyrical belcanto, romantic introspection, Lisztian grandeur, baroque sternness - into a compelling whole. His playing seems to conjure an effortless grandeur. There's even a symphonic dimension that emerges from his interpretation, with the first six Etudes coalescing in a long introduction of increasing complexity, Etude nr. 7 figuring as a marvelous slow movement, followed by a short scherzando intermezzo (8-9) and the final three Etudes as a monumental finale to the whole edifice. Here is an interesting study guide on the op. 25 that clearly shows what is involved in bringing these pieces to life. Following it alongside an audition of Saitkoulov's rendering deepened my admiration for his artistry. This is a recording I will often return to.
I then went back to Debussy's Etudes, more particularly the second book of the collection of 12. Over the past two weeks I've listened to them many, many times, contrasting three different readings. First, Uchida's justly celebrated 1990 recording on the Philips label (a Gramophone award at the time). Then the classic rendering by Monique Haas (1909-1987), recorded by Erato in the early 1970s. Finally I've been able to snap up an obscure LP with a recording of the Etudes by a Belgian pianist, Marcelle Mercenier (1920-1996; on the Musica Magna label). I've not been able to retrieve the recording date but I guess it is somewhere late 1960s, early 70s. Also, it's astonishing what little information there is to be found on the web regarding this pianist. Here is an obituary published in the Belgian francophone newspaper Le Soir, but that's about it. She taught in Bruxelles and Liège conservatories and was primarily active in the avant garde community. Stockhausen dedicated his first set of Klavierstücke to her. I must also have her recording of the Boesmans piano concerto in the OPL jubilee box.
Anyway, all of these recordings have something to offer. Mercenier is by far the slowest of them all, and yet her reading doesn't plod. It feels like a shadowy, tentative exploration of a complex, multi-layered universe. It's a very distinctive voice we are hearing here which doesn't really sound like Debussy (even like late Debussy). Only in the final etude ('pour les accords') her approach is too deliberate. Debussy allegedly felt this piece shouldn't sound too heavy and in Mercenier's approach it does. All in all a worthwhile reading that I will revisit.
Monique Haas' recordings Debussy recordings have a certain reputation. It's her second take on the Etudes, after her 1957 recording for DGG. Compared to Mercenier, her playing is much more bracing and edgy and brings out the modernist character of these pieces. Technically, the recording sounds a little coarse too, reinforcing the feeling of abrasiveness. This is a reading that asks for a certain commitment from the listener. But it's certainly interesting and worth repeated auditioning.
Uchida's version seems to be the best of all worlds. I admire the feline quality of her playing, investing these very difficult pieces with an amazing suppleness. With the Etudes Debussy moved out of his colouristic orbit into a more abstract universe. I feel they partake from the same spirit as his En blanc et noir, where he explored a much more neutral and steely palette. He went beyond 'impressionism', latching on to the strong, twisted lines of cubism. Not surprising, maybe, given his obsession with what went on in the trenches around him in those times. These are elusive pieces. You can continue to listen to them without ever getting the feeling of being intimate with them. And yet there is great beauty and dignity in these muted colours and strong contours.
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