January 31, 2025 • 50 mins
Jed Distler discusses fifteen favorite recordings of Beethoven's last and largest piano work, the Variations on a Theme of DIabelli Op. 120. If you enjoy this special extended episode, please making a donation to The Piano Maven podcast by subscribing to our Substack page (https://jeddistlermusic.substack.com/about), which you also can access by clicking on the "Donate" button here: https://rss.com/podcasts/pianomaven
Link to Jed's 2015 Gramophone survey of the DIabellis on record: https://reader.exacteditions.com/issues/45340/page/118?term=distler%20diabelli
Link to Daniel Höxer's recordings: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8F57E5D963F4C0E7
Link to an LP transfer of Charles Rosen's recording: https://archive.org/details/01diabellivariations120
A taste of Martino Tirimo's recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPxsk63yhWc
A taste of Cecile Ouuset's recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rwwCou7OyA
Download Olli Mustonen's recording: https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/7934860--beethoven-diabelli-variations-op-120?srsltid=AfmBOoo9TGZRcrhgz5R5_dw1J1E-JUCosDoaSFnujaaabvWhaeN2djzn
Paul Baumgartner's recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATxBzzFNvSU
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
This is Jed Distler and welcome to the Piano Maven, your friendly podcast guide to piano
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recordings.
You can subscribe to the Piano Maven through my sub stack page and you can do so by clicking
on the link in the episode description.
Paid subscribers get bonuses such as piano maven zoom meetings where we will share listening
experiences and meet special guests.
(00:34):
So please consider subscribing to help us reach out further into the piano community
and to help keep this podcast in production.
And we have our first zoom hangout meeting coming up very soon for you paid subscribers.
And if you already are a paid subscriber, you already know about that and you've already
(00:58):
received some rare goodies from my collection of piano recordings and there's more on the
way if you are a paid subscriber.
I guess I'm not being very subtle, but it would be lovely if you would consider subscribing.
A free subscription is perfectly fine too because then you get all of the podcasts,
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you get to hear them, but all the extras, that's for the paid subscribers.
This month we launched our second season of podcast episodes with a marathon mini series
covering 64 recordings with 64 pianists in the 32 Beethoven piano sonatas and without
(01:44):
repeating any pianist in any sonata.
That was really quite a challenge and a feat of discographical ingenuity on my part, but
we did it and I thank you all for your encouragement and your feedback and all of your correspondence.
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That was really, really fantastic and I'm so happy that we could go through all of this
together.
So I've decided to stretch out this Beethoven mini series a little bit.
First of all, we had a bonus episode yesterday about recorded cycles of the nine Beethoven
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symphonies in the piano transcriptions by Franz Liszt and today, because this is the
last day of the week and it's the last day of the month, we have another bonus episode
for you and we're going to set out on a deep dive into Beethoven's monumental variations
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on a waltz by Diabelli, Opus 120, the Diabelli Variations.
This was Beethoven's last major length solo piano work and by far, it is the largest work
that Beethoven ever composed for solo piano.
I've picked 15 recorded versions of the Diabelli Variations to discuss on this episode.
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Some of you may know about certain of these versions, but others on the list may not be
so well known to you.
Now I know that I will be leaving out quite a few important recorded versions on my list
of 15 and I'm leaving them out mainly because these are relatively familiar recordings among
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piano mavens and when people discuss the Diabelli Variations, these versions usually come up
as references and there's a general critical consensus about them.
So as such, I won't be going into detail about recordings by Rudolf Sirken or Claudio Aurao
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or Daniel Barenboim or Sviatoslav Richter or that other Sirken, Peter Sirken, and I won't
be talking about that influential premiere recording of the Diabellis that Artur Schnabel
made in 1937, which is still absolutely fabulous.
(04:24):
And you really don't need to hear my opinions about these because you can actually read
what I wrote about them in an overview of Diabelli Variations recordings that was published
in Gramophone in 2015 and I know many versions have come to light since 2015, but I think
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this article really covers a great bit of ground.
So I've posted a link to that article in our episode description along with links to some
of the recordings that I will be discussing.
But before we dive into the recordings proper, I thought I should tell you the Diabelli Variations
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backstory.
I'm sure some of you already know this story, but for the benefit of piano mavens new to
the Diabelli Variations, I think you will find the story interesting.
At least I hope you will.
(05:36):
If you had anything to do with music in early 19th century Vienna, you couldn't ignore Anton
Diabelli, try as one might.
You just had a deal with this guy.
He was a real man about town.
He wrote tons of music and he wrote tons of teaching pieces.
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And to top that off, he was a successful music publisher and he had a flair for self-promotion
that probably would rival any of these young pianists I see who flood social media with
posts like, I'm waiting for you at Carnegie Hall this week, or posts like, my office today,
(06:20):
the Steinway showroom, or pianists who post endless selfies with Martha Argerich before
she even had a chance to say no, don't take a picture with me.
I once had a sit at a dinner party with a certain pianist years ago.
This is long before smartphones were invented.
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And this pianist kept pulling out photos out of his wallet.
Oh, here's me with Aaron Copeland.
Here's me with Luciano Pavarotti.
Oh, here I am with Stephen Sondheim.
And here I am with Leonard Bernstein.
And I was just getting so irritated.
So I turned around and I said, oh, wow, Leonard Bernstein.
(07:02):
Oh, my God, that's so impressive.
How did Leonard Bernstein ever get to have his picture taken with you?
And of course, my sarcasm and my irony was totally lost on this jerk, who, as it happened,
never wound up having a real piano career.
But getting back to Anton Diabelli, what an opportunist he was.
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In 1819, he decided to launch one of his biggest projects.
He wrote this short and rather innocuous waltz.
And then he sent this waltz out to more than 50 composers, who he called the foremost tone
poets and virtuosi of Vienna and the Austrian states.
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And Diabelli requested from each of these 50 personages that each of them would compose
a variation on his waltz.
The combined variations then would be gathered together and published by Diabelli's firm
under the rather pompous title Watterlandescher Kunstlerverein.
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Oh, would you like to be part of a collection with that name?
Maybe so if they paid me enough.
All the composers approached and who accepted were Schubert, Hamon, Archduke Rudolf, Mozart's
son, Karl Czerny, and this 11-year-old prodigy named Fromm's List.
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And at the top of this list of 50 composers was this guy named Ludwig van Beethoven.
So the legend states that Beethoven saw this waltz and he thought, oh, this is ridiculous.
He dismissed the waltz as a Schusterfleck, which means a cobbler's patch.
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And then he turned Diabelli's proposal flat down.
But then he offered instead a small group of variations for a price.
Now whether or not that story is true, the fact is is that when Beethoven got this waltz,
he kind of became intrigued.
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And then he started writing one variation on it.
And then he wrote another and then another and another.
And it just seemed like he couldn't stop.
And he completed 23 variations by the summer of 1819.
Then he set these variations aside for a few years.
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And then he came back to them and he added a few more variations.
And eventually he completed the work by early 1823.
And the end result was 33 variations.
Now the totality of this must have taken Anton Diabelli totally by surprise.
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Not being the wily publisher that he was, he was no fool.
So he brought out Beethoven's 33 variations as part one of the Vaterlandescher Künstler
Verrein and then the other composers' variations comprised part two.
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So let's get to the recordings.
Because of the work's great length and wide range of techniques from outright parody and
raving virtuosity to contrapuntal rigor and spacious lyricism, the Diabelli variations
are as challenging for a performer to hold together as they are for a listener to fully
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absorb the music's deceptively complex architecture and rather uncompromising time scale.
My great friend and late colleague Harris Goldsmith once described three basic interpretive
approaches to the Diabelli variations.
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Certain interpreters, he said, strive for a cumulative emotional effect by building
drama and momentum within larger groups of variations.
And then by contrast, you have some pianists who aim to give each variation its own particular
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voice, treating them as separate structural or intellectual entities.
Then there are those pianists who are primarily concerned with pianism per se and the work's
potential for virtuosic scintillation and surface excitement.
In most respects, the cumulative approach is the most difficult one to bring off, yet
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arguably the most rewarding of them to bring off of these three approaches.
And the cumulative approach definitely characterizes the Arter Schnabel and Rudolf Sierken and
Claudio Arrao recordings.
But the earliest recording that I'm going to recommend on this list of 15 that I'm
proposing goes more for the variation by variation approach, giving each one its own character.
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But still, there's a sense of unity about this performance.
And this is a recording that Harris Goldsmith used to talk to me about all the time.
It finally appeared on CD some years ago after years of my kvetching and complaining and
trying to convince the powers that be that it should be reissued.
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And it's a recording that features the Swiss pianist Paul Baumgartner.
And his recording of the Diabelli variations for the Deutsche Grammophon label dates from
1952.
It's very well engineered for its time.
And the recording captures Baumgartner's warm, full-body tone and wide dynamic range in a
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slightly distant, yet very realistic concert hall kind of perspective.
And Baumgartner's pianism and musicianship are quite distinctive.
There are a lot of wonderful details to savor in this performance.
The very flexible rubato in variation number three.
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Or how Baumgartner's subtle cross-rhythmic accentuation in that really fast tenth variation
makes the music sound much faster than it actually goes in this performance.
And the slow minor key variations have great lyricism and repose.
And they hardly prepare you for how Baumgartner literally pounces on the fugue, which is variation
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32.
He sounds like Rudolf Sierkin in Heat.
This recording was reissued on CD by Australian Eloquence.
And it was coupled with Erich Tenberg playing Max Rager's notoriously tedious Telemann variations.
And this disc also found its way into the recent Eloquence Piano Library box set, containing
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lots of cool piano rarities from Deutsche Grammophon's back catalog.
I'm going to do a podcast episode about these piano library boxes pretty soon.
Now for the all-out virtuoso vehicle approach to the Diabelli variations.
I can think of one recording in particular that I really like.
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It's the second of the two Diabelli variations recordings that Julius Ketchen made.
He was that great American pianist born in 1926, and he tragically died young of cancer
in 1969.
He was only 43.
Now his first recording of the Diabellis from 1953 is relatively contained when compared
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to his more hectic and completely abandoned brand of virtuosity that is on display in
this 1960 stereo remake, which I have a sneaking affection for.
I mean, it's kind of superficial in some ways, but it's so much fun to listen to, I have
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to admit.
I've always called this 1960 recording the Oscar Peterson Diabelli Variations because
Julius Ketchen's playing reminds me of Oscar Peterson's flash and ebullient virtuosity
and drive as a jazz pianist.
So we have to talk now about Alfred Brendel, mainly because I didn't recommend any of his
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Beethoven sonata recordings on our Sonata miniseries, and some of you listeners took
me to task over that.
And I totally understand where you're coming from, and I suppose I kind of feel guilty,
even though I've always felt that the most consistent aspect of Alfred Brendel's artistry
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was his inconsistency.
But look, you can't deny that he had a major international career.
And I did hear him play many times in concert, and in fact, some of these performances I'll
never forget.
I heard him play some exquisite Mozart, for example.
I heard him give an amazingly powerful and intense performance of Liszt's Weinenklagen-Zorgen-Zoggen
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Variations, and it literally shook me from the seat.
I will never forget that performance.
But I also heard him play the second most boring Diabelli Variations live performance
that I ever experienced in my life.
Who was the most boring one from?
That was from Maurizio Polini.
But then at the same concert, Polini played some incredible Stockhausen and Schoenberg
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afterward.
It sounded like a whole different pianist.
Anyway, Alfred Brendel has four commercial recordings of the Diabellis to his credit.
The first one was for the Vox label, and it's a good performance, but it's a little on
the earnest side, shall we say.
But his three versions released by Phillips I think are light years better.
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The first one of these was a live performance from London's Royal Festival Hall in 1976,
or was it 75?
I can't remember.
And then there was a studio recording from 1988, and then another live performance also
from Royal Festival Hall from 2001.
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Brendel himself favored the 2001 performance over the other recordings, and it's definitely
the most spontaneous and unified of the four recordings, even though there are some telltale
signs that he's not quite mustering up the energy he had when he was younger, I'm talking
about in the 1976 live recording.
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But on the other hand, in 2001, Brendel judges the silences with more humor, and he makes
more contrast between the different tempos in Variation 21.
So I kind of go back and forth between both live versions, but I think that Alfred Brendel's
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1988 studio recording seems to split the difference between all of the interpretive factors in
all of these recordings.
And also the sonics are warmer, and Brendel also has the advantage of studio editing,
although the live recordings are impressively accurate in and of themselves.
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But I think the 1988 recording overall gives the best account of Brendel's conception,
and I'm very happy to have it in my collection.
I want to mention Stephen Kovacevich when he was 21.
When he was 21, never stop at Jed.
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Anyway, when Stephen Kovacevich was 21 years old, he made his London debut at Wigmore Hall,
playing the Diabelli Variations.
And then seven years later, in 1968, he recorded it for Phillips.
I've always liked this recording.
It's a very straightforward interpretation.
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Perhaps some details seem slightly studied or pre-planned, but the music's dramatic trajectory
slowly reveals itself as the performance progresses, almost catching you unaware.
And the controlled fury that Kovacevich unleashes in the fugue gently transitions into the concluding
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minuetto, which gives the feeling of decompressing after a long journey.
But as much as I admire this recording, and it is a classic in its way, I feel that the
recording that Stephen Kovacevich made 40 years later for the Onyx label is much bigger
and emotionally broader in scope.
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It's gutsier and it's looser in many ways and more expressively three-dimensional and
robust.
So, basically, these two recordings represent two different sides of Stephen Kovacevich
and the Diabelli Variations at different times in his career.
And I guess I could say that in my head, I'd lean toward the Phillips version, but in my
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heart, I go for the remake.
So I'm not going to really choose between both of them.
Okay, maybe I'll choose the later one.
I actually picked the later recording as my top choice in that Gramophone article, but
I am very happy to have both of these recordings in my collection.
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Somewhat in the intellectualized style of the first Kovacevich recording is a performance
by a pianist and scholar whose name is Michael Oelbaum, and he recorded the Diabellis in
1985.
It first came out on a small label on LP.
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I think it was called OO Records.
I can't remember.
I had that LP for about five minutes.
But many years later, the Bridge label issued this on CD.
And I remember that on the LP, I think also on the CD, there was a blurb from Murray Paraya,
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and he praised Michael Oelbaum's Diabelli Variations for his attention to voice leading,
structure, and line.
And it is a very detailed interpretation and a very thoughtful performance in that sense.
You notice a little extra kick to the imitative entrances in Variation No. 5 and the beautiful
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shaping of Variation 24, which is a fugato.
The 16th and 17th variations don't really take off like a rocket here, as you would
expect them to do, but they still generate excitement.
And I think the tempo relationships unifying the final group of minor key variations are
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judged here to perfection.
It's a very gratifying recording still, and I enjoy it.
I met Michael Oelbaum years ago at a party, and we talked a little bit about this recording.
But the strange thing is that he does not seem to have made any other solo piano recordings
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other than this one, at least as far as I know.
But I guess if you're going to make only one commercial solo piano recording, it might
as well be a really good one of the Diabelli Variations, right?
The American pianist Daniel Shapiro, who is on the faculty of the Cleveland Institute
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of Music, recorded the Diabelli Variations for his solo CD debut.
It's on the Azika label.
I'm not sure if you can still source the physical disc.
Maybe you can find it as a download.
But this is one of my favorite versions of the Diabellis on record.
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It's technically super, super solid.
It's really scrupulous over detail, but not to the point of being overly obsessive or
anal.
And it's both intellectually and emotionally cohesive.
Daniel Shapiro affects fluid tempo relationships that effortlessly bind the variations, and
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this is the cumulative approach at its best.
Yet he also takes trouble to characterize the differences between variations.
Variation number nine, for example, is hearty and gruff, and it embodies an entirely different
sound world compared to the feathery lightness of those scampering variations like numbers
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10 and 19 and 23.
Maybe you don't get the kind of dark and brooding introspection that you hear from Schnabel
or Aurao, but there are no quirks or exaggerations.
This is just intelligent, stylish, and communicative music making all around.
That's Daniel Shapiro.
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And here is a sleeper of a Diabelli Variations from a totally unexpected source, perhaps.
This is with the French pianist Cécile Husset.
During the 1970s, she had a brief yet very rewarding relationship with the French branch
of the DECA label, and her main project for DECA was a set of five LPs devoted to Beethoven's
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complete sets of variations.
And there was a 1984 interview with her where the pianist expressed regret that these recordings
had long been deleted because she remembered working so hard on them.
But Australian eloquence brought out a box set of Cécile Husset's complete DECA recordings
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a few years ago.
And you readily hear that all of her hard work really paid off, and then some.
Her Diabelli Variations are fantastic.
They have everything.
They have virtuosity and concentration, intensity, diversity of character, great humor, and heartfelt
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lyricism.
And it's an interpretation that's always alive, and I highly recommend that you listen to
it.
And another sleeper of a Diabelli Variations features a pianist whom you are not likely
to have heard of, or maybe you have, but this guy is absolutely wonderful.
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I have fallen in love with his playing pretty recently.
His name is Daniel Hoxer.
He was born in 1945.
His recording of the Diabellis dates from 1988, and I happened to have found it in a
thrift store many years ago for something like 99 cents.
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And I have to say, I got quite the bargain.
First of all, this recording is fabulously engineered, beautiful sound quality.
And secondly, this is scrupulous and refined and pinpointed playing and music making that
maybe some people would call a little too objective, but it's never detached.
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I would imagine the tonal calibrations and super specificity of balance that you get
from somebody like Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli in his prime, welded onto Rudolf Sierkin's
Fidelity to the Score.
And if you combine those two images, you'll get an idea of what this performance is like.
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And by the way, Daniel Hoxer also recorded a fantastic Bach Goldberg variations.
That's a whole other story.
But if you want the physical CD of Daniel Hoxer's Diabelli variations at a decent price,
good luck trying to find it.
But if you do find it at a good price, definitely buy it.
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I'm happy to have it in my collection, but I will say that you can find tons of Daniel
Hoxer recordings on YouTube, and I've provided a link to this YouTube page that has a whole
bunch of Daniel Hoxer recordings.
And if you scroll down the page, you will find a link to this recording of the Diabelli
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variations.
So definitely check that out.
Now we get to the quirky, quote unquote, personality recordings.
I have always been fascinated by the Diabelli variations that Olli Mustonen made for RCA
Victor in the 1990s.
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Now to say that his approach is individual is to say that Niagara Falls has water.
Basically, Olli Mustonen knocks this work off of its cerebral pedestal, and he kind
of goes mano a mano with Beethoven's sardonic humor and rabble-rousing kind of rhythmic
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mischief.
It is true that Olli Mustonen is very spare with pedaling, and as a result, many passages
might sound a little too dry for your taste.
But when he does slam the pedal down, my goodness, you certainly notice, and he is a real master
of finger legato.
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He often exaggerates the articulation, and his liberal robatos often run amok.
But he justifies this somehow with very carefully worked out temper relationships and transitions
between variations.
Certainly there's no more theatrical or unabashedly entertaining recording of the Diabellis out
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there.
And however you may feel in the end, you do have to concede that Olli Mustonen realizes
his conception to the nth degree.
I'm going to digress now from this list a little bit because I'm going to mention two
recordings that I do not recommend, so we're going to have a little detour.
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One of these Diabelli variations recordings is with the pianist Anatole Ugorski.
It was for Deutsche Grammophon.
And he basically sprays interpretive graffiti throughout the work, like a graffiti artist
gone wild in the subways in the early 1980s.
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I wrote in Grammophon magazine that when I first heard this recording many years ago,
it made me feel dirty all over.
Well, first of all, Ugorski totally overdoes the waltz theme's dynamics.
And then he plods through variation one's funeral march with both feet in the grave.
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That's the way it sounds.
And then he stretches out variations 14 and variations 29 to narcoleptic extremes.
I mean, it's almost unlistening.
And the way that he monkeys around with variation 18 really renders this music totally unrecognizable.
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That crazy Longacellarondo he makes into this variation's first section has nothing to do
with Beethoven.
It has everything to do with Anatole Ugorski's ego.
It may be true that those pronounced changes in tempo that Beethoven wants in variation
21 are super clear in this performance, but that's only because Ugorski clarifies them
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with the least amount of subtlety possible so that no dullard will miss the point.
And here's another anti-recommendation.
You know, usually the playing time for the D-belly variations falls between 55 minutes
or 56 minutes.
Well, when Grammophon sent me a recording by the Danish pianist Kristina Bjorko, I looked
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at the total timing on the cover that it gave for 72 and a half minutes.
And I thought, well, that's got to be a misprint.
That's got to be some kind of a joke.
There's a problem there.
Well, evidently not.
It was a 72 minute performance.
And you just have to hear how slowly and tentatively she plays the theme.
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And the defiant slow march that characterizes variation number one has never been rendered
so soft and spineless as it is here.
Variation number eight is marked poco vivace, right?
Well here, it's like largo.
It's a dead crawl.
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And variation 11's allegretto marking disintegrates before your very eyes and ears.
And you know that famous variation 13 that's marked vivace, you know, that question and
answer, bam, ba-dum, eh, eh, bam, ba-dum, wa, wa.
You know, here, the music goes so slowly that the joke totally disappears.
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You know, the slow variation number 14, that usually takes four minutes to play.
Well, guess what her timing is here.
It takes eight minutes.
And also variations 18 and 21 go in slow motion.
She also screws up the rhythm a little bit in that variation number 22, you know, the
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one based on Mozart's notte giomo facica from Don Giovanni.
Now once in a while, this pianist gets things right, but this is definitely the most bizarre
Diabelli variations I've heard.
Well, maybe Anatol Ugorski is equally bizarre.
But these two are ones to avoid.
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And then I guess this is just an aside because you can't find this disc anywhere.
There was a really strange release that came out on a tiny label in the 1990s.
It's a recording where the late pianist Susan Halligan recorded the Diabelli variations
on the piano in a so-called historical tuning, specifically the tuning of Kürnberger III
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and for those who know more about tunings and temperament that I do, that information
will be of some use to you.
But the weird thing about this release was that this violinist named Paul List was credited
on the release and on the cover and on the label and everywhere else for directing her
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interpretation.
So the credit reads, the Diabelli variations played by Susan Halligan with Paul List, with
Paul List.
And he's credited for directing her interpretation.
Now he wasn't a pianist and he wasn't at the piano, but basically he told Susan Halligan
how to play this piece and how to shape the interpretation as if she was almost a kind
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of surrogate mother carrying Paul List's interpretive baby to term.
Obviously, Susan Halligan was willing to be a pianist, a conduit to Paul List's musical
vision.
But with all this in mind, the performance really didn't strike me as anything unusual
or special beyond a decent workaday Diabelli variations played with an unusual tuning.
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Anyway, the recording is long out of print, so there's really no point in talking about
it.
But if you want historic tuning on a real period instrument, I think the best of the
period instrument Diabelli variations recordings out there comes from Andreas Steyer on the
Harmonia Mundi label.
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One thing I love about this release has to do with the programming.
First, Andreas Steyer plays the original Diabelli waltz and he follows it with eight contrasting
variations on the waltz by eight of the composers whom Diabelli invited to contribute to that
anthology we talked about earlier.
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And then after that, Andreas Steyer improvises a Beethoven-like interlude that leads right
into the Beethoven work, and his interpretation, I think, is stunning.
It has impeccably judged tempo relationships, really angular phrasing with a lot of bite
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and character that Artur Schnabel would have really loved.
There's a strong sense of drama.
The accents really sting and they're in your face.
Every note has life and purpose, and that includes Steyer's spontaneous flourishes and
embellishments and his whimsical changes of voicings on the repeats.
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His gruff forte piano, by the way, features built-in percussion stops, and I love how
he takes creative yet tasteful advantage of them for the most part.
You hear this in that Don Giovanni variation, number 22, but the most fun is in the variation
23, where you have cymbal crashes on those big banging chords.
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You know, bang, b-bl-bl-bl-bl, bang.
You know, there's a cymbal crash on those bangs.
My friend David Hurwitz likes to call this variation the bang, scamper, scamper, scamper,
scamper variation.
Maybe some listeners will take offense at the cymbal crashes, because, you know, Beethoven
didn't write a cymbal crash, so why play a cymbal crash?
(37:52):
But come on, let Andreas Steyer have his fun.
And he does get really serious in the minor key variations, and he just lets the music
sing out as eloquently as it can.
This is a fabulous Diabelli variations, and certainly it is my favorite among all of the
period instrument versions out there in catalog land.
(38:15):
There have been quite a few excellent recent versions of the Diabellis on modern instruments,
and I'm not going to go into great detail about them, because I've reviewed most of
them, either for Gramophone or for ClassicsToday.com, and you can look up the reviews as you see
fit.
(38:36):
The pianist Mei Fang has a very subjective, yet very purposeful, and I think quite convincing
recording on the Centaur label, and it really held my attention when I first heard it.
She's a pianist who really makes you listen, and so does Martin Helmschenn, who brings
great musical and pianistic distinction to his recording on the Alpha label.
(39:01):
I think it's every bit as good, and well, almost every bit as good as the recording
by Igor Levitt, which got a lot of attention and critical praise, and justifiably so.
He takes the theme at a true Vivace, he slightly underplays the accents, and he projects the
first variations maestoso chords with springing intensity, and he brings wonderful airborne
(39:28):
lightness to that presto, variation number 10.
In the fugue, variation 32, Igor Levitt's dry point and slightly detached yet buoyant
and energetic articulation will probably surprise listeners who are accustomed to heavier, more
declamatory readings.
(39:50):
In this sense and in other respects, Levitt is kind of a mirror to the spirit, and sometimes
the letter of Peter Serkin's two Diabelli recordings, the one for RCA and the one for
the Pro Arte label, which perhaps I should have mentioned more in detail in this podcast,
(40:11):
because these two are also major Diabelli contenders.
At the opposite pole resides Martino T. Remo.
His performance is deliberate and monumental, with no detail left unscrutinized, but in
his hands the music always moves, if you know what I mean.
(40:34):
If Igor Levitt's Diabellis resembles somebody like Charles McHarris conducting Beethoven,
then Martino T. Remo resembles Otto Klemperer in his prime, and you don't so much feel like
you're hearing a performance than you are experiencing a catharsis.
(40:55):
I also should mention the most recent recording of the Diabellis by Mitsuko Ushita.
This got rave reviews in Gramophone and it won Gramophone's 2022 Piano Recording of
the Year award.
I think I voted for something else in that year.
But this is a remarkable recording in many respects.
(41:15):
You only have to hear variation number one, where Ushita generates tension within those
obsessive funeral march dotted phrases by giving the dissonances their full weight and
also varying her articulation of accents and points of emphasis.
She doesn't just play the notes, in other words.
(41:38):
Her expressive distensions of phrase and the third variation always occur when you least
expect them, while variation number five's repeated notes are sprung with lilting restraint.
And I like how variation seven's strategically delayed sforzandos achieve a kind of power
(42:02):
and gravitas that you don't always get.
But these delays never sound preplanned or mannered.
They feel very organic.
Now, these may sound like kind of arcane details, but what I'm trying to say is that Mitsuko
Ushita probes every nook and cranny in this piece.
(42:22):
Maybe her preplanning gets the better of her, where she might telegraph her intentions more
than surprise you with them.
But on the whole, this is a very special release, and if you like the Diabelli variations, you
really should hear it.
However, however, if I had to pick just one Diabelli variations recording to take with
(42:47):
me to the proverbial desert island, and this may be a choice that will surprise you, or
maybe not, this is not a Diabelli variations recording that gets talked about a lot.
But I think it may well be my personal favorite.
It's a 1977 recording with the pianist Charles Rosen.
(43:09):
It came out in the United States on LP on the Peters International label, but it didn't
last long in the catalog.
And then I think around 1996, it came out on CD on the Carlton Classics label, and that
was in print for about five seconds.
It's not easy to find secondhand copies of the physical CD.
(43:33):
It took me a long, long time before I could find one at a good price.
But you can get this recording as a download or via streaming services.
So why do I think that Charles Rosen's Diabelli variations is so special?
For starters, it was produced by Isabella Walich, and the sound quality reproduces Charles
(43:57):
Rosen's piano in a realistic concert hall perspective.
It's not the warmest or most robust sonic representation, perhaps, but Rosen's sense
of projection and his wide dynamic range and his infinite variety of articulations really
(44:18):
come across and draw you in.
He sets the tone for the piece with a very strongly profiled and decisive statement of
the Diabelli theme.
And then he takes a long and dramatic pause before he launches into the first variation
funeral march.
And Charles Rosen uses a taca linkages not only to effect smooth transitions and to create
(44:44):
cumulative momentum, but also to subtly highlight shifts in mood and character from variation
to variation.
I could spend hours and hours describing all of the felicities of timing and touch and
nuance that you get from Charles Rosen.
For example, listen to his slight rhythmic elongations and dynamic shadings that bring
(45:08):
out variation five's underlying tension.
Or how in variation eight, the arching melodic line just sings out so naturally without any
affectation, totally from the heart.
And then I keep talking about variation 10 and those rapid broken chords between the
(45:28):
hands.
They are so agile in Charles Rosen's hands, but they don't sound mechanical because you
have shape and you have direction, and it's not an etude.
So the way that Charles Rosen delays certain downbeats in that number 13, I was talking
about the bum ba dum, bum bum, bum ba dum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum,
(45:53):
so on and so forth.
You know what I'm talking about.
The way he delays certain downbeats in number 13 exemplifies an understanding of comic timing
that few other pianists have mustered, for instance, like Rosen would do, bum ba dum,
bum bum, bum ba dum, bum bum, where he delays that bum bum, the answer just a little bit.
(46:20):
And I remember when he played this variation in concert, he elicited laughter from the
audience and that's exactly what is supposed to happen.
And also, Rosen's contrapuntal awareness is second to none, yet it's never obvious or
overstated, whether it's in the majestic repose he brings to number 24's Fugetta or the vehemence,
(46:48):
yet the mindful voicing of the fugue of variation 32.
And from the fugue, Charles Rosen makes the most beautiful and touching transition into
the concluding minueto.
I heard Charles Rosen play the D Bellies in concert back in 2002 at the 92nd Street Y,
(47:12):
and at that time I had not heard this recording, but I was totally enraptured and spellbound
by his performance, which actually followed a first concert half where he played several
Beethoven sonatas not very well at all.
And I seriously considered walking out of the concert, but my friend, the late record
(47:35):
producer Max Wilcox, who was sitting in front of me, you know, I told him that I didn't
think I was going to stick around for the second half and he said, no, no, no, Jed,
you have to stay to hear Charles Rosen play the D Belly variations.
Trust me, you're never going to hear them played better.
And I'm not going to say no to Max.
(47:56):
And my God, Max Wilcox was totally right.
And actually, it was a few years later when I had to review the Paul Lewis recording for
Gramophone, I happened to be visiting my closest friend among pianists, Jerry Kuderna, who
lives out in Berkeley, California.
(48:16):
And we were listening together and making comments and thinking, well, this is good.
This is not so good and so on and so forth.
And then Jerry brought out his LP copy of the Charles Rosen D Belly's and he put it
on and goodness, you know, there was just no comparison.
We sat there and thought, come on, this is the big league here.
(48:40):
And I had not heard that recording before, but it triggered my memory of hearing Charles
Rosen play the D Belly's in concert a few years back.
And then sure enough, a few months later, when I was back in New York, I did find a
secondhand copy of the D Belly variations on CD.
I think I paid two dollars for it or something.
(49:02):
It doesn't really matter.
I would have been happy to have paid a lot more money.
So there we have it.
A deep dive into the D Belly variations.
God, I'm exhausted after talking about this.
I hope you haven't been exhausted listening to my ranting about all of this.
(49:24):
And I recommended 15 recordings and a few extras not to be recommended.
I'm sure you have some special favorite D Belly variations recordings that I didn't mention.
I'd love to know what they are.
And I'm sure I do know what they are.
Of course, Rudolph Serkin and Claudio Arrao.
(49:46):
Maybe some of you will talk about Daniel Barenboim.
I'm sure there's so many others.
But get in touch with me and let me know which D Belly variations recordings you like.
I really value your feedback and your comments.
This is Jed Disler and you've been listening to the Piano Maven, your friendly podcast
(50:07):
guide to piano recordings.
And thank you for accompanying me on this Beethoven journey all of this month.
And we will be back to a lot of non-Beethoven topics in our upcoming episodes.
Of course, we will get back to Beethoven.
How can we not?
(50:28):
But thank you so much for considering a subscription to the Piano Maven podcast.
And I look forward to being with you next time.
Until then, take care, be well, and most importantly, be kind to one another.
This is Jed Distler and welcome to the Piano Maven, your friendly podcast guide to piano
(00:13):
recordings.
You can subscribe to the Piano Maven through my sub stack page and you can do so by clicking
on the link in the episode description.
Paid subscribers get bonuses such as piano maven zoom meetings where we will share listening
experiences and meet special guests.
(00:34):
So please consider subscribing to help us reach out further into the piano community
and to help keep this podcast in production.
And we have our first zoom hangout meeting coming up very soon for you paid subscribers.
And if you already are a paid subscriber, you already know about that and you've already
(00:58):
received some rare goodies from my collection of piano recordings and there's more on the
way if you are a paid subscriber.
I guess I'm not being very subtle, but it would be lovely if you would consider subscribing.
A free subscription is perfectly fine too because then you get all of the podcasts,
(01:20):
you get to hear them, but all the extras, that's for the paid subscribers.
This month we launched our second season of podcast episodes with a marathon mini series
covering 64 recordings with 64 pianists in the 32 Beethoven piano sonatas and without
(01:44):
repeating any pianist in any sonata.
That was really quite a challenge and a feat of discographical ingenuity on my part, but
we did it and I thank you all for your encouragement and your feedback and all of your correspondence.
(02:06):
That was really, really fantastic and I'm so happy that we could go through all of this
together.
So I've decided to stretch out this Beethoven mini series a little bit.
First of all, we had a bonus episode yesterday about recorded cycles of the nine Beethoven
(02:27):
symphonies in the piano transcriptions by Franz Liszt and today, because this is the
last day of the week and it's the last day of the month, we have another bonus episode
for you and we're going to set out on a deep dive into Beethoven's monumental variations
(02:50):
on a waltz by Diabelli, Opus 120, the Diabelli Variations.
This was Beethoven's last major length solo piano work and by far, it is the largest work
that Beethoven ever composed for solo piano.
I've picked 15 recorded versions of the Diabelli Variations to discuss on this episode.
(03:20):
Some of you may know about certain of these versions, but others on the list may not be
so well known to you.
Now I know that I will be leaving out quite a few important recorded versions on my list
of 15 and I'm leaving them out mainly because these are relatively familiar recordings among
(03:42):
piano mavens and when people discuss the Diabelli Variations, these versions usually come up
as references and there's a general critical consensus about them.
So as such, I won't be going into detail about recordings by Rudolf Sirken or Claudio Aurao
(04:03):
or Daniel Barenboim or Sviatoslav Richter or that other Sirken, Peter Sirken, and I won't
be talking about that influential premiere recording of the Diabellis that Artur Schnabel
made in 1937, which is still absolutely fabulous.
(04:24):
And you really don't need to hear my opinions about these because you can actually read
what I wrote about them in an overview of Diabelli Variations recordings that was published
in Gramophone in 2015 and I know many versions have come to light since 2015, but I think
(04:47):
this article really covers a great bit of ground.
So I've posted a link to that article in our episode description along with links to some
of the recordings that I will be discussing.
But before we dive into the recordings proper, I thought I should tell you the Diabelli Variations
(05:09):
backstory.
I'm sure some of you already know this story, but for the benefit of piano mavens new to
the Diabelli Variations, I think you will find the story interesting.
At least I hope you will.
(05:36):
If you had anything to do with music in early 19th century Vienna, you couldn't ignore Anton
Diabelli, try as one might.
You just had a deal with this guy.
He was a real man about town.
He wrote tons of music and he wrote tons of teaching pieces.
(05:58):
And to top that off, he was a successful music publisher and he had a flair for self-promotion
that probably would rival any of these young pianists I see who flood social media with
posts like, I'm waiting for you at Carnegie Hall this week, or posts like, my office today,
(06:20):
the Steinway showroom, or pianists who post endless selfies with Martha Argerich before
she even had a chance to say no, don't take a picture with me.
I once had a sit at a dinner party with a certain pianist years ago.
This is long before smartphones were invented.
(06:41):
And this pianist kept pulling out photos out of his wallet.
Oh, here's me with Aaron Copeland.
Here's me with Luciano Pavarotti.
Oh, here I am with Stephen Sondheim.
And here I am with Leonard Bernstein.
And I was just getting so irritated.
So I turned around and I said, oh, wow, Leonard Bernstein.
(07:02):
Oh, my God, that's so impressive.
How did Leonard Bernstein ever get to have his picture taken with you?
And of course, my sarcasm and my irony was totally lost on this jerk, who, as it happened,
never wound up having a real piano career.
But getting back to Anton Diabelli, what an opportunist he was.
(07:27):
In 1819, he decided to launch one of his biggest projects.
He wrote this short and rather innocuous waltz.
And then he sent this waltz out to more than 50 composers, who he called the foremost tone
poets and virtuosi of Vienna and the Austrian states.
(07:51):
And Diabelli requested from each of these 50 personages that each of them would compose
a variation on his waltz.
The combined variations then would be gathered together and published by Diabelli's firm
under the rather pompous title Watterlandescher Kunstlerverein.
(08:16):
Oh, would you like to be part of a collection with that name?
Maybe so if they paid me enough.
All the composers approached and who accepted were Schubert, Hamon, Archduke Rudolf, Mozart's
son, Karl Czerny, and this 11-year-old prodigy named Fromm's List.
(08:41):
And at the top of this list of 50 composers was this guy named Ludwig van Beethoven.
So the legend states that Beethoven saw this waltz and he thought, oh, this is ridiculous.
He dismissed the waltz as a Schusterfleck, which means a cobbler's patch.
(09:04):
And then he turned Diabelli's proposal flat down.
But then he offered instead a small group of variations for a price.
Now whether or not that story is true, the fact is is that when Beethoven got this waltz,
he kind of became intrigued.
(09:24):
And then he started writing one variation on it.
And then he wrote another and then another and another.
And it just seemed like he couldn't stop.
And he completed 23 variations by the summer of 1819.
Then he set these variations aside for a few years.
(09:45):
And then he came back to them and he added a few more variations.
And eventually he completed the work by early 1823.
And the end result was 33 variations.
Now the totality of this must have taken Anton Diabelli totally by surprise.
(10:07):
Not being the wily publisher that he was, he was no fool.
So he brought out Beethoven's 33 variations as part one of the Vaterlandescher Künstler
Verrein and then the other composers' variations comprised part two.
(10:27):
So let's get to the recordings.
Because of the work's great length and wide range of techniques from outright parody and
raving virtuosity to contrapuntal rigor and spacious lyricism, the Diabelli variations
are as challenging for a performer to hold together as they are for a listener to fully
(10:52):
absorb the music's deceptively complex architecture and rather uncompromising time scale.
My great friend and late colleague Harris Goldsmith once described three basic interpretive
approaches to the Diabelli variations.
(11:13):
Certain interpreters, he said, strive for a cumulative emotional effect by building
drama and momentum within larger groups of variations.
And then by contrast, you have some pianists who aim to give each variation its own particular
(11:33):
voice, treating them as separate structural or intellectual entities.
Then there are those pianists who are primarily concerned with pianism per se and the work's
potential for virtuosic scintillation and surface excitement.
In most respects, the cumulative approach is the most difficult one to bring off, yet
(11:57):
arguably the most rewarding of them to bring off of these three approaches.
And the cumulative approach definitely characterizes the Arter Schnabel and Rudolf Sierken and
Claudio Arrao recordings.
But the earliest recording that I'm going to recommend on this list of 15 that I'm
proposing goes more for the variation by variation approach, giving each one its own character.
(12:25):
But still, there's a sense of unity about this performance.
And this is a recording that Harris Goldsmith used to talk to me about all the time.
It finally appeared on CD some years ago after years of my kvetching and complaining and
trying to convince the powers that be that it should be reissued.
(12:47):
And it's a recording that features the Swiss pianist Paul Baumgartner.
And his recording of the Diabelli variations for the Deutsche Grammophon label dates from
1952.
It's very well engineered for its time.
And the recording captures Baumgartner's warm, full-body tone and wide dynamic range in a
(13:12):
slightly distant, yet very realistic concert hall kind of perspective.
And Baumgartner's pianism and musicianship are quite distinctive.
There are a lot of wonderful details to savor in this performance.
The very flexible rubato in variation number three.
(13:33):
Or how Baumgartner's subtle cross-rhythmic accentuation in that really fast tenth variation
makes the music sound much faster than it actually goes in this performance.
And the slow minor key variations have great lyricism and repose.
And they hardly prepare you for how Baumgartner literally pounces on the fugue, which is variation
(13:59):
32.
He sounds like Rudolf Sierkin in Heat.
This recording was reissued on CD by Australian Eloquence.
And it was coupled with Erich Tenberg playing Max Rager's notoriously tedious Telemann variations.
And this disc also found its way into the recent Eloquence Piano Library box set, containing
(14:26):
lots of cool piano rarities from Deutsche Grammophon's back catalog.
I'm going to do a podcast episode about these piano library boxes pretty soon.
Now for the all-out virtuoso vehicle approach to the Diabelli variations.
I can think of one recording in particular that I really like.
(14:49):
It's the second of the two Diabelli variations recordings that Julius Ketchen made.
He was that great American pianist born in 1926, and he tragically died young of cancer
in 1969.
He was only 43.
Now his first recording of the Diabellis from 1953 is relatively contained when compared
(15:16):
to his more hectic and completely abandoned brand of virtuosity that is on display in
this 1960 stereo remake, which I have a sneaking affection for.
I mean, it's kind of superficial in some ways, but it's so much fun to listen to, I have
(15:37):
to admit.
I've always called this 1960 recording the Oscar Peterson Diabelli Variations because
Julius Ketchen's playing reminds me of Oscar Peterson's flash and ebullient virtuosity
and drive as a jazz pianist.
So we have to talk now about Alfred Brendel, mainly because I didn't recommend any of his
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Beethoven sonata recordings on our Sonata miniseries, and some of you listeners took
me to task over that.
And I totally understand where you're coming from, and I suppose I kind of feel guilty,
even though I've always felt that the most consistent aspect of Alfred Brendel's artistry
(16:23):
was his inconsistency.
But look, you can't deny that he had a major international career.
And I did hear him play many times in concert, and in fact, some of these performances I'll
never forget.
I heard him play some exquisite Mozart, for example.
I heard him give an amazingly powerful and intense performance of Liszt's Weinenklagen-Zorgen-Zoggen
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Variations, and it literally shook me from the seat.
I will never forget that performance.
But I also heard him play the second most boring Diabelli Variations live performance
that I ever experienced in my life.
Who was the most boring one from?
That was from Maurizio Polini.
But then at the same concert, Polini played some incredible Stockhausen and Schoenberg
(17:13):
afterward.
It sounded like a whole different pianist.
Anyway, Alfred Brendel has four commercial recordings of the Diabellis to his credit.
The first one was for the Vox label, and it's a good performance, but it's a little on
the earnest side, shall we say.
But his three versions released by Phillips I think are light years better.
(17:39):
The first one of these was a live performance from London's Royal Festival Hall in 1976,
or was it 75?
I can't remember.
And then there was a studio recording from 1988, and then another live performance also
from Royal Festival Hall from 2001.
(18:00):
Brendel himself favored the 2001 performance over the other recordings, and it's definitely
the most spontaneous and unified of the four recordings, even though there are some telltale
signs that he's not quite mustering up the energy he had when he was younger, I'm talking
about in the 1976 live recording.
(18:24):
But on the other hand, in 2001, Brendel judges the silences with more humor, and he makes
more contrast between the different tempos in Variation 21.
So I kind of go back and forth between both live versions, but I think that Alfred Brendel's
(18:44):
1988 studio recording seems to split the difference between all of the interpretive factors in
all of these recordings.
And also the sonics are warmer, and Brendel also has the advantage of studio editing,
although the live recordings are impressively accurate in and of themselves.
(19:05):
But I think the 1988 recording overall gives the best account of Brendel's conception,
and I'm very happy to have it in my collection.
I want to mention Stephen Kovacevich when he was 21.
When he was 21, never stop at Jed.
(19:25):
Anyway, when Stephen Kovacevich was 21 years old, he made his London debut at Wigmore Hall,
playing the Diabelli Variations.
And then seven years later, in 1968, he recorded it for Phillips.
I've always liked this recording.
It's a very straightforward interpretation.
(19:46):
Perhaps some details seem slightly studied or pre-planned, but the music's dramatic trajectory
slowly reveals itself as the performance progresses, almost catching you unaware.
And the controlled fury that Kovacevich unleashes in the fugue gently transitions into the concluding
(20:09):
minuetto, which gives the feeling of decompressing after a long journey.
But as much as I admire this recording, and it is a classic in its way, I feel that the
recording that Stephen Kovacevich made 40 years later for the Onyx label is much bigger
and emotionally broader in scope.
(20:31):
It's gutsier and it's looser in many ways and more expressively three-dimensional and
robust.
So, basically, these two recordings represent two different sides of Stephen Kovacevich
and the Diabelli Variations at different times in his career.
And I guess I could say that in my head, I'd lean toward the Phillips version, but in my
(20:56):
heart, I go for the remake.
So I'm not going to really choose between both of them.
Okay, maybe I'll choose the later one.
I actually picked the later recording as my top choice in that Gramophone article, but
I am very happy to have both of these recordings in my collection.
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Somewhat in the intellectualized style of the first Kovacevich recording is a performance
by a pianist and scholar whose name is Michael Oelbaum, and he recorded the Diabellis in
1985.
It first came out on a small label on LP.
(21:37):
I think it was called OO Records.
I can't remember.
I had that LP for about five minutes.
But many years later, the Bridge label issued this on CD.
And I remember that on the LP, I think also on the CD, there was a blurb from Murray Paraya,
(21:59):
and he praised Michael Oelbaum's Diabelli Variations for his attention to voice leading,
structure, and line.
And it is a very detailed interpretation and a very thoughtful performance in that sense.
You notice a little extra kick to the imitative entrances in Variation No. 5 and the beautiful
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shaping of Variation 24, which is a fugato.
The 16th and 17th variations don't really take off like a rocket here, as you would
expect them to do, but they still generate excitement.
And I think the tempo relationships unifying the final group of minor key variations are
(22:44):
judged here to perfection.
It's a very gratifying recording still, and I enjoy it.
I met Michael Oelbaum years ago at a party, and we talked a little bit about this recording.
But the strange thing is that he does not seem to have made any other solo piano recordings
(23:05):
other than this one, at least as far as I know.
But I guess if you're going to make only one commercial solo piano recording, it might
as well be a really good one of the Diabelli Variations, right?
The American pianist Daniel Shapiro, who is on the faculty of the Cleveland Institute
(23:26):
of Music, recorded the Diabelli Variations for his solo CD debut.
It's on the Azika label.
I'm not sure if you can still source the physical disc.
Maybe you can find it as a download.
But this is one of my favorite versions of the Diabellis on record.
(23:47):
It's technically super, super solid.
It's really scrupulous over detail, but not to the point of being overly obsessive or
anal.
And it's both intellectually and emotionally cohesive.
Daniel Shapiro affects fluid tempo relationships that effortlessly bind the variations, and
(24:10):
this is the cumulative approach at its best.
Yet he also takes trouble to characterize the differences between variations.
Variation number nine, for example, is hearty and gruff, and it embodies an entirely different
sound world compared to the feathery lightness of those scampering variations like numbers
(24:32):
10 and 19 and 23.
Maybe you don't get the kind of dark and brooding introspection that you hear from Schnabel
or Aurao, but there are no quirks or exaggerations.
This is just intelligent, stylish, and communicative music making all around.
That's Daniel Shapiro.
(24:54):
And here is a sleeper of a Diabelli Variations from a totally unexpected source, perhaps.
This is with the French pianist Cécile Husset.
During the 1970s, she had a brief yet very rewarding relationship with the French branch
of the DECA label, and her main project for DECA was a set of five LPs devoted to Beethoven's
(25:21):
complete sets of variations.
And there was a 1984 interview with her where the pianist expressed regret that these recordings
had long been deleted because she remembered working so hard on them.
But Australian eloquence brought out a box set of Cécile Husset's complete DECA recordings
(25:44):
a few years ago.
And you readily hear that all of her hard work really paid off, and then some.
Her Diabelli Variations are fantastic.
They have everything.
They have virtuosity and concentration, intensity, diversity of character, great humor, and heartfelt
(26:05):
lyricism.
And it's an interpretation that's always alive, and I highly recommend that you listen to
it.
And another sleeper of a Diabelli Variations features a pianist whom you are not likely
to have heard of, or maybe you have, but this guy is absolutely wonderful.
(26:26):
I have fallen in love with his playing pretty recently.
His name is Daniel Hoxer.
He was born in 1945.
His recording of the Diabellis dates from 1988, and I happened to have found it in a
thrift store many years ago for something like 99 cents.
(26:47):
And I have to say, I got quite the bargain.
First of all, this recording is fabulously engineered, beautiful sound quality.
And secondly, this is scrupulous and refined and pinpointed playing and music making that
maybe some people would call a little too objective, but it's never detached.
(27:10):
I would imagine the tonal calibrations and super specificity of balance that you get
from somebody like Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli in his prime, welded onto Rudolf Sierkin's
Fidelity to the Score.
And if you combine those two images, you'll get an idea of what this performance is like.
(27:34):
And by the way, Daniel Hoxer also recorded a fantastic Bach Goldberg variations.
That's a whole other story.
But if you want the physical CD of Daniel Hoxer's Diabelli variations at a decent price,
good luck trying to find it.
But if you do find it at a good price, definitely buy it.
(27:55):
I'm happy to have it in my collection, but I will say that you can find tons of Daniel
Hoxer recordings on YouTube, and I've provided a link to this YouTube page that has a whole
bunch of Daniel Hoxer recordings.
And if you scroll down the page, you will find a link to this recording of the Diabelli
(28:16):
variations.
So definitely check that out.
Now we get to the quirky, quote unquote, personality recordings.
I have always been fascinated by the Diabelli variations that Olli Mustonen made for RCA
Victor in the 1990s.
(28:37):
Now to say that his approach is individual is to say that Niagara Falls has water.
Basically, Olli Mustonen knocks this work off of its cerebral pedestal, and he kind
of goes mano a mano with Beethoven's sardonic humor and rabble-rousing kind of rhythmic
(28:58):
mischief.
It is true that Olli Mustonen is very spare with pedaling, and as a result, many passages
might sound a little too dry for your taste.
But when he does slam the pedal down, my goodness, you certainly notice, and he is a real master
of finger legato.
(29:20):
He often exaggerates the articulation, and his liberal robatos often run amok.
But he justifies this somehow with very carefully worked out temper relationships and transitions
between variations.
Certainly there's no more theatrical or unabashedly entertaining recording of the Diabellis out
(29:45):
there.
And however you may feel in the end, you do have to concede that Olli Mustonen realizes
his conception to the nth degree.
I'm going to digress now from this list a little bit because I'm going to mention two
recordings that I do not recommend, so we're going to have a little detour.
(30:07):
One of these Diabelli variations recordings is with the pianist Anatole Ugorski.
It was for Deutsche Grammophon.
And he basically sprays interpretive graffiti throughout the work, like a graffiti artist
gone wild in the subways in the early 1980s.
(30:29):
I wrote in Grammophon magazine that when I first heard this recording many years ago,
it made me feel dirty all over.
Well, first of all, Ugorski totally overdoes the waltz theme's dynamics.
And then he plods through variation one's funeral march with both feet in the grave.
(30:51):
That's the way it sounds.
And then he stretches out variations 14 and variations 29 to narcoleptic extremes.
I mean, it's almost unlistening.
And the way that he monkeys around with variation 18 really renders this music totally unrecognizable.
(31:14):
That crazy Longacellarondo he makes into this variation's first section has nothing to do
with Beethoven.
It has everything to do with Anatole Ugorski's ego.
It may be true that those pronounced changes in tempo that Beethoven wants in variation
21 are super clear in this performance, but that's only because Ugorski clarifies them
(31:39):
with the least amount of subtlety possible so that no dullard will miss the point.
And here's another anti-recommendation.
You know, usually the playing time for the D-belly variations falls between 55 minutes
or 56 minutes.
Well, when Grammophon sent me a recording by the Danish pianist Kristina Bjorko, I looked
(32:06):
at the total timing on the cover that it gave for 72 and a half minutes.
And I thought, well, that's got to be a misprint.
That's got to be some kind of a joke.
There's a problem there.
Well, evidently not.
It was a 72 minute performance.
And you just have to hear how slowly and tentatively she plays the theme.
(32:30):
And the defiant slow march that characterizes variation number one has never been rendered
so soft and spineless as it is here.
Variation number eight is marked poco vivace, right?
Well here, it's like largo.
It's a dead crawl.
(32:51):
And variation 11's allegretto marking disintegrates before your very eyes and ears.
And you know that famous variation 13 that's marked vivace, you know, that question and
answer, bam, ba-dum, eh, eh, bam, ba-dum, wa, wa.
You know, here, the music goes so slowly that the joke totally disappears.
(33:15):
You know, the slow variation number 14, that usually takes four minutes to play.
Well, guess what her timing is here.
It takes eight minutes.
And also variations 18 and 21 go in slow motion.
She also screws up the rhythm a little bit in that variation number 22, you know, the
(33:36):
one based on Mozart's notte giomo facica from Don Giovanni.
Now once in a while, this pianist gets things right, but this is definitely the most bizarre
Diabelli variations I've heard.
Well, maybe Anatol Ugorski is equally bizarre.
But these two are ones to avoid.
(33:58):
And then I guess this is just an aside because you can't find this disc anywhere.
There was a really strange release that came out on a tiny label in the 1990s.
It's a recording where the late pianist Susan Halligan recorded the Diabelli variations
on the piano in a so-called historical tuning, specifically the tuning of Kürnberger III
(34:24):
and for those who know more about tunings and temperament that I do, that information
will be of some use to you.
But the weird thing about this release was that this violinist named Paul List was credited
on the release and on the cover and on the label and everywhere else for directing her
(34:47):
interpretation.
So the credit reads, the Diabelli variations played by Susan Halligan with Paul List, with
Paul List.
And he's credited for directing her interpretation.
Now he wasn't a pianist and he wasn't at the piano, but basically he told Susan Halligan
how to play this piece and how to shape the interpretation as if she was almost a kind
(35:12):
of surrogate mother carrying Paul List's interpretive baby to term.
Obviously, Susan Halligan was willing to be a pianist, a conduit to Paul List's musical
vision.
But with all this in mind, the performance really didn't strike me as anything unusual
or special beyond a decent workaday Diabelli variations played with an unusual tuning.
(35:40):
Anyway, the recording is long out of print, so there's really no point in talking about
it.
But if you want historic tuning on a real period instrument, I think the best of the
period instrument Diabelli variations recordings out there comes from Andreas Steyer on the
Harmonia Mundi label.
(36:02):
One thing I love about this release has to do with the programming.
First, Andreas Steyer plays the original Diabelli waltz and he follows it with eight contrasting
variations on the waltz by eight of the composers whom Diabelli invited to contribute to that
anthology we talked about earlier.
(36:22):
And then after that, Andreas Steyer improvises a Beethoven-like interlude that leads right
into the Beethoven work, and his interpretation, I think, is stunning.
It has impeccably judged tempo relationships, really angular phrasing with a lot of bite
(36:43):
and character that Artur Schnabel would have really loved.
There's a strong sense of drama.
The accents really sting and they're in your face.
Every note has life and purpose, and that includes Steyer's spontaneous flourishes and
embellishments and his whimsical changes of voicings on the repeats.
(37:06):
His gruff forte piano, by the way, features built-in percussion stops, and I love how
he takes creative yet tasteful advantage of them for the most part.
You hear this in that Don Giovanni variation, number 22, but the most fun is in the variation
23, where you have cymbal crashes on those big banging chords.
(37:30):
You know, bang, b-bl-bl-bl-bl, bang.
You know, there's a cymbal crash on those bangs.
My friend David Hurwitz likes to call this variation the bang, scamper, scamper, scamper,
scamper variation.
Maybe some listeners will take offense at the cymbal crashes, because, you know, Beethoven
didn't write a cymbal crash, so why play a cymbal crash?
(37:52):
But come on, let Andreas Steyer have his fun.
And he does get really serious in the minor key variations, and he just lets the music
sing out as eloquently as it can.
This is a fabulous Diabelli variations, and certainly it is my favorite among all of the
period instrument versions out there in catalog land.
(38:15):
There have been quite a few excellent recent versions of the Diabellis on modern instruments,
and I'm not going to go into great detail about them, because I've reviewed most of
them, either for Gramophone or for ClassicsToday.com, and you can look up the reviews as you see
fit.
(38:36):
The pianist Mei Fang has a very subjective, yet very purposeful, and I think quite convincing
recording on the Centaur label, and it really held my attention when I first heard it.
She's a pianist who really makes you listen, and so does Martin Helmschenn, who brings
great musical and pianistic distinction to his recording on the Alpha label.
(39:01):
I think it's every bit as good, and well, almost every bit as good as the recording
by Igor Levitt, which got a lot of attention and critical praise, and justifiably so.
He takes the theme at a true Vivace, he slightly underplays the accents, and he projects the
first variations maestoso chords with springing intensity, and he brings wonderful airborne
(39:28):
lightness to that presto, variation number 10.
In the fugue, variation 32, Igor Levitt's dry point and slightly detached yet buoyant
and energetic articulation will probably surprise listeners who are accustomed to heavier, more
declamatory readings.
(39:50):
In this sense and in other respects, Levitt is kind of a mirror to the spirit, and sometimes
the letter of Peter Serkin's two Diabelli recordings, the one for RCA and the one for
the Pro Arte label, which perhaps I should have mentioned more in detail in this podcast,
(40:11):
because these two are also major Diabelli contenders.
At the opposite pole resides Martino T. Remo.
His performance is deliberate and monumental, with no detail left unscrutinized, but in
his hands the music always moves, if you know what I mean.
(40:34):
If Igor Levitt's Diabellis resembles somebody like Charles McHarris conducting Beethoven,
then Martino T. Remo resembles Otto Klemperer in his prime, and you don't so much feel like
you're hearing a performance than you are experiencing a catharsis.
(40:55):
I also should mention the most recent recording of the Diabellis by Mitsuko Ushita.
This got rave reviews in Gramophone and it won Gramophone's 2022 Piano Recording of
the Year award.
I think I voted for something else in that year.
But this is a remarkable recording in many respects.
(41:15):
You only have to hear variation number one, where Ushita generates tension within those
obsessive funeral march dotted phrases by giving the dissonances their full weight and
also varying her articulation of accents and points of emphasis.
She doesn't just play the notes, in other words.
(41:38):
Her expressive distensions of phrase and the third variation always occur when you least
expect them, while variation number five's repeated notes are sprung with lilting restraint.
And I like how variation seven's strategically delayed sforzandos achieve a kind of power
(42:02):
and gravitas that you don't always get.
But these delays never sound preplanned or mannered.
They feel very organic.
Now, these may sound like kind of arcane details, but what I'm trying to say is that Mitsuko
Ushita probes every nook and cranny in this piece.
(42:22):
Maybe her preplanning gets the better of her, where she might telegraph her intentions more
than surprise you with them.
But on the whole, this is a very special release, and if you like the Diabelli variations, you
really should hear it.
However, however, if I had to pick just one Diabelli variations recording to take with
(42:47):
me to the proverbial desert island, and this may be a choice that will surprise you, or
maybe not, this is not a Diabelli variations recording that gets talked about a lot.
But I think it may well be my personal favorite.
It's a 1977 recording with the pianist Charles Rosen.
(43:09):
It came out in the United States on LP on the Peters International label, but it didn't
last long in the catalog.
And then I think around 1996, it came out on CD on the Carlton Classics label, and that
was in print for about five seconds.
It's not easy to find secondhand copies of the physical CD.
(43:33):
It took me a long, long time before I could find one at a good price.
But you can get this recording as a download or via streaming services.
So why do I think that Charles Rosen's Diabelli variations is so special?
For starters, it was produced by Isabella Walich, and the sound quality reproduces Charles
(43:57):
Rosen's piano in a realistic concert hall perspective.
It's not the warmest or most robust sonic representation, perhaps, but Rosen's sense
of projection and his wide dynamic range and his infinite variety of articulations really
(44:18):
come across and draw you in.
He sets the tone for the piece with a very strongly profiled and decisive statement of
the Diabelli theme.
And then he takes a long and dramatic pause before he launches into the first variation
funeral march.
And Charles Rosen uses a taca linkages not only to effect smooth transitions and to create
(44:44):
cumulative momentum, but also to subtly highlight shifts in mood and character from variation
to variation.
I could spend hours and hours describing all of the felicities of timing and touch and
nuance that you get from Charles Rosen.
For example, listen to his slight rhythmic elongations and dynamic shadings that bring
(45:08):
out variation five's underlying tension.
Or how in variation eight, the arching melodic line just sings out so naturally without any
affectation, totally from the heart.
And then I keep talking about variation 10 and those rapid broken chords between the
(45:28):
hands.
They are so agile in Charles Rosen's hands, but they don't sound mechanical because you
have shape and you have direction, and it's not an etude.
So the way that Charles Rosen delays certain downbeats in that number 13, I was talking
about the bum ba dum, bum bum, bum ba dum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum,
(45:53):
so on and so forth.
You know what I'm talking about.
The way he delays certain downbeats in number 13 exemplifies an understanding of comic timing
that few other pianists have mustered, for instance, like Rosen would do, bum ba dum,
bum bum, bum ba dum, bum bum, where he delays that bum bum, the answer just a little bit.
(46:20):
And I remember when he played this variation in concert, he elicited laughter from the
audience and that's exactly what is supposed to happen.
And also, Rosen's contrapuntal awareness is second to none, yet it's never obvious or
overstated, whether it's in the majestic repose he brings to number 24's Fugetta or the vehemence,
(46:48):
yet the mindful voicing of the fugue of variation 32.
And from the fugue, Charles Rosen makes the most beautiful and touching transition into
the concluding minueto.
I heard Charles Rosen play the D Bellies in concert back in 2002 at the 92nd Street Y,
(47:12):
and at that time I had not heard this recording, but I was totally enraptured and spellbound
by his performance, which actually followed a first concert half where he played several
Beethoven sonatas not very well at all.
And I seriously considered walking out of the concert, but my friend, the late record
(47:35):
producer Max Wilcox, who was sitting in front of me, you know, I told him that I didn't
think I was going to stick around for the second half and he said, no, no, no, Jed,
you have to stay to hear Charles Rosen play the D Belly variations.
Trust me, you're never going to hear them played better.
And I'm not going to say no to Max.
(47:56):
And my God, Max Wilcox was totally right.
And actually, it was a few years later when I had to review the Paul Lewis recording for
Gramophone, I happened to be visiting my closest friend among pianists, Jerry Kuderna, who
lives out in Berkeley, California.
(48:16):
And we were listening together and making comments and thinking, well, this is good.
This is not so good and so on and so forth.
And then Jerry brought out his LP copy of the Charles Rosen D Belly's and he put it
on and goodness, you know, there was just no comparison.
We sat there and thought, come on, this is the big league here.
(48:40):
And I had not heard that recording before, but it triggered my memory of hearing Charles
Rosen play the D Belly's in concert a few years back.
And then sure enough, a few months later, when I was back in New York, I did find a
secondhand copy of the D Belly variations on CD.
I think I paid two dollars for it or something.
(49:02):
It doesn't really matter.
I would have been happy to have paid a lot more money.
So there we have it.
A deep dive into the D Belly variations.
God, I'm exhausted after talking about this.
I hope you haven't been exhausted listening to my ranting about all of this.
(49:24):
And I recommended 15 recordings and a few extras not to be recommended.
I'm sure you have some special favorite D Belly variations recordings that I didn't mention.
I'd love to know what they are.
And I'm sure I do know what they are.
Of course, Rudolph Serkin and Claudio Arrao.
(49:46):
Maybe some of you will talk about Daniel Barenboim.
I'm sure there's so many others.
But get in touch with me and let me know which D Belly variations recordings you like.
I really value your feedback and your comments.
This is Jed Disler and you've been listening to the Piano Maven, your friendly podcast
(50:07):
guide to piano recordings.
And thank you for accompanying me on this Beethoven journey all of this month.
And we will be back to a lot of non-Beethoven topics in our upcoming episodes.
Of course, we will get back to Beethoven.
How can we not?
(50:28):
But thank you so much for considering a subscription to the Piano Maven podcast.
And I look forward to being with you next time.
Until then, take care, be well, and most importantly, be kind to one another.
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