Paul Lewis’ Harmonia Mundi Beethoven cycle jumps to the brink of completion with another three-disc volume. The pianist cultivates a beautiful sonority, sorting out balances between hands and dynamic calibrations to a rarified degree. Notice for example Op. 2 No. 1’s finale or Op. 26’s tightly controlled Scherzo, and the disembodied, weightless tone he achieves as if a period fortepiano had temporarily replaced the concert grand. Then there are Lewis’ consistent execution of trills, turns, and other ornaments, plus his keen attention to inner lines. His work often evokes the intimate, cameo-like aura you hear in Wilhelm Kempff’s classic LP Beethoven sets, albeit without that master’s spontaneous touches, stinging sforzandos, and caustic wit.
Sectional ritards, tenutos, and sudden dynamic dips come off more picky than purposeful, as in the Moonlight’s overly precious Scherzo and Op. 2 No. 1’s static first-movement staccatos. Furthermore, the pianist’s gingerly tread through the finales of the Appassionata, Op. 2 No. 3, and both Op. 27 sonatas will sound tame to those who expect fire and thrust, although Lewis’ supple and rollicking Op. 7 first movement is right on the money. Conversely, intelligent voice leading in Op. 26 and Op. 54’s concluding, toccata-like movements makes a compelling case for Lewis’ yielding rumination. Similar care in the Appassionata first movement draws less attention to the music’s elemental virtuosity than to the extraordinary skill with which Beethoven deploys registers and unravels textures. I can’t pretend to love these recordings more than I respect the serious-minded artistry and integrity behind them, yet Lewis’ finest moments certainly explain his rising star in the pianistic firmament. [10/19/2007]
