As a Schumann player, Michael Korstick’s rapier-like articulation and steel-edged tone in extroverted, virtuosic passages and tendency to fidget in more introspective, lyrical episodes reminds me of how Alexis Weissenberg played this composer on disc in the late 1960s. You hear this in Kreisleriana’s first piece, where the outer sections zoom by like the proverbial horse with blinders on, with little punctuation, while the central episode features contrived tenutos and inner voices. In Carnaval, you also hear this in Florestan’s tempo fluctuations, Replique’s tapered phrasings, and in the “Chopin” movement’s extreme dynamic opposites. But when Korstick plays directly and simply, everything comes together, such as in the Kreisleriana eighth movement’s rhythmic poise and the giddy momentum of Carnaval’s outer movements. The same goes for Korstick’s fluid and poetic Arabeske, except for its aggressively pounded-out second interlude. Korstick’s tone turns brittle and metallic in the loudest moments, which may or may not be an engineering issue. Although Korstick’s imposing and essentially charmless pianistic personality will not suit all tastes, he does compel you to listen.
