Rachmaninov
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini
Rachmaninov arr. Earl Wild
Vocalise Op. 34 No.14
Where Beauty Dwells
Polka de W.R. (after Franz Behr)
Gershwin
The Man I Love
I Got Rhythm
Rhapsody In Blue
Earl Wild
Etudes after Gershwin, Nos. 4 (Embraceable You) and 7 (Fascinatin’ Rhythm)
Martin James Bartlett Piano
London Philharmonic Orchestra
Joshua Weilerstein Conductor
Warner Classics 0190296434334
Full Price
The Review
The one thing I expected from this young team of soloist and conductor was a load of romantic passion but that doesn’t seem to be their thing at all.
The Paganini Rhapsody is given a stern, rather austere treatment; plenty of rhythmic discipline and dextrous precision but precious little charm. It is as though the emphasis is all on the technical virtuosity, with feeling coming a bad second to intellectual appreciation. Now I know Rachmaninov did not like to play up the more Hollywood elements of his craft but Bartlett is too severe and Weilerstein gets attack from the LPO which is superbly together and incisive but does strike with the force of a slap in the chops. This is an exhibition; even the big tune is given with detachment – not so much a love letter as a postcard from Zurich.
A similar understatement (the sort that suggests stiff upper lip in the face of emotional inconvenience) is there in Bartlett’s playing of the Vocalise arrangement and that of Where Beauty Dwells by Wild. I kept wishing I was listening to Wild himself or Askenazy. Both knew how to make the virtuosity effortless (which Bartlett does not, quite) while giving the heart strings enough of a tug to explain the music’s enduring popularity. There are more compelling versions of Rhapsody in Blue too. There’s some nice bluesy riffing from the LPO but even they seem to be trying a bit too hard in the sober surroundings of Henry Wood Hall without a bracing pint in a nearby tavern to loosen the sinews.
The point of the Gershwin and Earl Wild solos is that they should sound brilliant but dashed off – gosh, pianistic genius at your disposal, cigarette between the lips, cocktail wobbling a bit on the side of the instrument, the player likely to break into song at the sight of tonight’s resident starlet. With Bartlett, though, we are at a music appreciation society, where tea and ham sandwiches without much mustard will be served after his kind performance. All very genteel, all very Sunday afternoon. Embraceable You becomes a brotherly hug on hearing the news that the poor girl is feeling a touch mis. I’m sure this is not how it felt in the studio but somehow whatever energy Bartlett brought to the room has not really transferred to disc. Let go, boys, this is music from New York City, not Cheltenham.
SM