Marc-André Hamelin’s effortless mastery of the piano literature’s most stamina-testing and technically daunting challenges tends to overshadow his sensitive musicianship and tasteful sophistication in more intimately scaled fare, such as the two Schumann cycles presented here. In Waldszenen, Hamelin’s lyrical gifts shine throughout the opening Eintritt’s unusually expansive treatment, and in Vogel als Prophet’s deliciously-turned upward runs. Edgier than usual detached chords provide forboding signposts between Jäger auf der Lauer’s uncannily calibrated unison passages. Hamelin intensifies Freundliche Landschaft’s contrapuntal interplay with careful attention to dynamics, and he reveals Herberge’s darker side by bringing the left hand to the fore (many pianists just concentrate on the right hand melody alone). In essence, Hamelin paints Schumann’s forest scenes in primary colors, as opposed to the pastels and mixed tints served up by Kempff and Richter.
If Hamelin doesn’t quite match the eloquent simplicity and ideal tempos that pianists so disparate as Moravec, Horszowski, and Freire bring to Kinderszenen, many details still hold interest. Hamelin strategically inflects Kuriose Geschichte’s dotted rhythms, generating uncommon nervous energy here. He imbues Bittendes Kind with wide dynamic contrasts and juicy pedal effects, while slightly clipping Wichtige Begebenheit’s martial chords. In Hamelin’s hands, Ritter vom Steckenpferd’s hobby horse becomes a loud bucking bronco, but Kind im Einschlummern’s wistful lullaby winds down into a hazy, disembodied dream state where the piano seems to float in slow motion.
The real revelations occur in Janácek’s On the overgrown path Book 1. Hamelin not only observes the first selection’s “legato possible” directive to the maximum, but he also intones the melodies like a great lieder recitalist. Small adjustments to the basic pulse underline No. 2’s asymmetry, while Hamelin pays attention to No. 3’s “call and response” details, such as those quirky accelerandos that even a marvelous literalist like András Schiff overlooks. In fact, textural effects that at first seem unorthodox (not that Janácek is ever orthodox!) simply result from Hamelin’s meticulous score reading, such as the dynamic and dramatic distinctions between No. 10’s arpeggiated outbursts and muted ostinatos. As this excellently engineered disc proves, the “non-supervirtuoso” stream of Hamelin’s artistic persona runs deep.