Time and again over the course of these warm-sounding, intimately engineered recordings of Beethoven’s piano and cello works Alfred Brendel’s seasoned keyboard artistry diverts attention from his cellist son Adrian’s solid yet less individual contributions. You often notice this when Beethoven trades phrases back and forth between instruments. The A major Op. 69 sonata’s first-movement exposition and the scampering finale are especially cogent examples, where the elder Brendel’s characterful inflections and tiny rhythmic adjustments inspire plainer spoken responses from his partner. And within the sustained, sepharic context the pianist sets up in Op. 102 No. 1’s slow introduction in the last movement, the cellist’s relatively unvaried tonal qualities sound little more than pleasant.
While we must acknowledge both Brendels’ meticulous adherence to Beethoven’s articulations and phrasings in Op. 5 No. 2’s witty finale or Op. 102 No. 2’s concluding fugue, pianist András Schiff and cellist Miklós Perényi match the Brendels’ musicianship with added vitality, harder hitting dynamic contrasts, and more varied textures. This also is true of the variation sets, where Schiff and Perényi are lighter in tone and playfully interactive in relation to the Brendels’ sobriety. Furthermore, the younger Brendel does not yet command Perényi’s impeccable control and intonation (particularly in Beethoven’s difficult high-lying passages). No doubt the Brendels’ virtues would recommend themselves in a world without Schiff/Perényi, Argerich/Maisky, Kempff/Fournier, and Richter/Rostropovich.
