Olga Kern’s first solo Brahms release casts no doubt either about her natural affinity for the composer’s brawny keyboard idiom or regarding her not-so-enlivening musicianship. She often loses sight of the Handel Variations’ large-scale unity and cumulative momentum by imposing caesuras and ritards that are more pianistically expedient than musically expressive. She’ll uncover titillating inner voices, such as those on Variation 1’s repeat, only to diffuse No. 6’s canonic interplay in textural fog. She drags out No. 9’s stately gait, rushing the triplets at the end of measures to no avail. And you could imagine lighter, suppler, more propulsive readings of Nos. 15, 16, 23, and 24.
Yet there are marvelous moments too. For example, many pianists approach No. 13 severely, but the lyrical nuances Kern finds in the right hand restore Brahms’ espressivo directive to its rightful place. Nor should her leonine grasp and exhilarating control of the Fugue go unmentioned.
Although Kern easily commands the Paganini Variations’ tremendous technical challenges, the bland, under-characterized impression I glean from certain movements usually results from the pianist not quite doing what Brahms wants. Just to cite a few instances: In Book 1, Kern’s matter-of-fact No. 3 hardly suggests the “molto leggiero” impact of the piano writing’s imitation of crossed-string violin arpeggios, while her mousy trills in No. 4 sidestep Brahms’ sforzando markings. Likewise, Kern seems not to have carefully pondered the transitions and tempo relationships between Op. 21 No. 2’s brief variations. The theme’s gruff, pesante nature is supposed to sustain into the first variation’s left hand, but not as Kern barnstorms her way through it. She, rather than Brahms, slows down No. 3 in order for her to securely nail the repeated notes, and she slows No. 7’s Poco più lento down to an amorphous standstill. Given Kern’s undisputable potential as a Brahms player, this excellently engineered release could have been better.
