Collaborations seem to elicit Malcolm Bilson’s most fluent and characterful playing on disc, such as in the Mozart Violin Sonatas with Sergio Luca, the Beethoven Cello Sonatas with Anner Bylsma, and the Mozart Concerto cycle under John Eliot Gardiner. By contrast, his solo efforts largely have been hit and miss, and this release is no exception.
In Dussek’s ambitious, imaginative, and woefully underrated Op. 44 sonata, Bilson shapes the first movement’s slow introduction with appropriate gravitas and breadth, while digging deeply into the Allegro moderato’s orchestrally-inspired keyboard textures. The pianist’s careful dynamic gradations underline the lengthy Molto adagio’s lovely harmonic felicities, yet his matter-of-fact phrasing rarely addresses the lyrical, singing implications of the composer’s sostenuto directive. Aside from fussy tapering in the Trio, Bilson’s brisk and muscular one-beat-to-a-bar conception of the Menuetto is right on the money, yet his rubatos in the finale prove more mannered than expressive.
Bilson’s earlier, out-of-print Nonesuch recording of Haydn’s last piano sonata offered a steady, clean, slightly reserved interpretation that now has changed for the worse. The Allegro’s exposition alone abounds with problems: the lack of a stable basic pulse, awkward transitions, poor balances between hands, and uneven fingerwork, not to mention small tempo adjustments to accommodate scales that ought to be executed in strict tempo. Bilson’s sudden dynamic surges in the Adagio only fuel his choppy sense of line. At least the pianist maintains a straightforward, dramatically consistent, and intelligently accented Finale. However, go to Ronald Brautigam for a true Presto–indeed, for more cultivated musical and technical authority in each movement.
A fine performance of Cramer’s charming, inconsequential Mozart variations bridges the sonatas. Bilson plays a pianoforte by Chris Maene, manufactured in 2003 after a Longman and Clementi vintage 1799 model, whose peculiar “half-harpsichord/half-harp” sonority is captured in a close-up, rather dry sonic perspective.
