The keyboard style of Sergei Bortkiewicz (1877-1952) is luxuriantly Romantic, harmonically ultra-conservative, and compulsively tuneful. His melodies don’t stick in your memory; they’re mostly faux Schumann, faux early Scriabin, faux Grieg, and faux Rachmaninov, yet they sound inspired when you hear them. And the sheer beauty and idiomatic resourcefulness of Bortkiewicz’s piano writing, the fresh use of registers and variety in figurations all prove to be the composer’s saving grace.
The orchestral sweep of the E major Op. 40 No. 7 Prelude suggests that two pianos and four hands are in cahoots, while the E minor Op. 15 No. 10 Etude’s fast-moving harmony and fistsful of chords demand a complete technique with no loose ends, imbalances, or splinters. Even works that seem to start out modestly, like the four Op. 50 Lyrica Nova, wind up all over the keyboard.
Pavel Gintov’s capabilities serve Bortkiewicz’s demands quite well. No matter how thick, loud, or notey the music becomes, Gintov never hesitates at climaxes, nor makes anything near an ugly sound. He commands the style with authoritative ease. Granted, Gintov doesn’t match Cyprien Katsaris’ lightness and relaxed fluency in the Op. 29 Etudes Nos. 3 and 6, nor does he sing out the Lyrica Nova selections in the manner of Nadejda Vlaeva’s more subjective, lyrically inflected interpretations on Hyperion. But these are not criticisms; in fact, my one real quibble concerns Piano Classics’ full-bodied yet overly close-up engineering. Such opulent piano writing needs more room to breathe.
