Leon McCawley makes a formidable impression throughout Schumann’s Davidsbündlertänze, where his varied tone color and articulation deliciously animate the mercurial piano writing. McCawley’s supple technique, moreover, allows him to effortlessly toss off quicker movements or to shape legato lines to fullest effect with little aid from the sustain pedal. The same lightness of being and directness of approach inform Waldszenen. Listen, for example, to how McCawley voices the opening piece’s main melody and inner counterpoints in telling perspective with the accompanying chords, or notice how much expressive mileage No. 4 (Verrufene Stelle) gains when interpreted with minimum rubato and maximum linear awareness. The pianist at first seems to throw Nos. 5, 6, and 7 away, yet repeated hearings reveal subtle gradations in touch and timing that I daresay match the classic Richter and Haskil interpretations on their own intimate turf.
McCawley conveys Fantasiestücke’s varying moods by creating similarly transparent textures and generally fast tempos that emphasize line over mass. Only rarely do McCawley’s breath pauses between sections or phrases throw the composer’s rhythmic scansion off course (the transition bridging Aufschwung’s F minor and D-flat major, for instance). Pianistically speaking, McCawley’s Kreisleriana misses nothing, but the music’s volatile outbursts and ghostly playfulness are unduly reined in. And for all of McCawley’s care and forethought, much of Papillons’ fanciful notions seem flattened and ironed out. There’s also a darker underside to the Arabeske and the two Schumann/Liszt song transcriptions that’s not revealed in McCawley’s lovingly-spun renditions (Cliburn’s big-boned Widmung, for example, makes my point). This may not be Schumann playing to send shivers up your spine or move you to tears, but its salient virtues cannot be taken lightly.
