In his booklet notes, pianist Vincent Larderet discusses working on Brahms’ Piano Sonata No. 3 with his teacher Bruno-Leonardo Gelber, who aptly likened the work to a “veiled symphony”. Indeed, the music’s structural ambitions and frequently thick textures benefit most from performances that convey symphonic sweep and color. As it happens, Larderet frequently goes the opposite route.
The first-movement exposition proceeds in fits and starts, with the odd inner counterpoint or accompanying voice arbitrarily highlighted, and the octaves at the development section’s outset lacking ferocity and power, in contrast to firebrands like Kissin and Katchen.
The Andante espressivo has some sensitive moments, particularly when the main theme returns supported by undulating triplets, yet again, simplicity, proportion, and long-lined eloquence is missing. The Scherzo ought to explode and soar, yet Larderet’s fussy rhythmic adjustments and lack of élan sound downright flat-footed; the 86-year-old Earl Wild’s sprinting grandeur frankly sweeps the younger pianist off the stage. The intermezzo’s chorale-like chords and low-register funeral march motive emerge in perfunctory perspective, although Larderet brings a ghostly shimmer to the main theme’s return at measure 25.
There’s little rhythmic spring to the Finale’s staccato chords, while Larderet downplays the specifically marked agitato buildup and over-thinks the second theme’s con espressione directive. His supple gallop through the coda abounds with élan: too little too late. The Op. 117 Intermezzi fare best when Larderet plays straight and doesn’t work so hard at bringing out details that usually take care of themselves.
Larderet pays close attention to the Berg sonata’s numerous expressive markings and sudden changes in tempo. However, his unwillingness to play really softly and his frequently choppy execution of legato sequences dissipate the music’s mood shifts and rob climactic moments of their resonating passion. In these respects I prefer the leaner, more luminous Berg sonata recordings by Mitsuko Uchida and Pierre-Laurent Aimard, along with a particularly special interpretation from Allison Brewster Franzetti on Naxos that I reviewed in these pages. In short, this recital is something of a letdown, considering the excellence of Larderet’s earlier solo releases respectively devoted to Maurice Ravel and Florent Schmitt.
