To mark the 15th anniversary of Georges Cziffra’s death in 1994, EMI France presents a 40-CD space-saving, budget-priced boxed set encompassing all of the pianist’s studio output for the label, along with his complete Philips recordings, previously unissued studio test recordings, private material, and one disc of orchestra repertoire adequately led by the pianist’s tragically short-lived son, Gyorgy Cziffra Jr. Although a truly “complete” Cziffra edition also would have included his pre-1956 Hungarian sessions (some of which APR and Hungaroton have brought out on CD), this release nevertheless offers the most comprehensive opportunity yet to explore his artistry.
Over the course of listening it becomes clear that you cannot generalize about Cziffra’s reputation for extraordinary technical acrobatics and cavalier musicianship. These traits often hold true, yet Cziffra could offer straightforward and relatively restrained readings when so inclined, and sometimes multiple recorded versions of the same work. Compare, for example, the relatively willful mono Schumann Carnaval to Cziffra’s more disciplined stereo remake, or notice how his 1970s Chopin Waltzes, First Concerto, and Fourth Ballade are more garishly detailed than a decade earlier.
Wild runs, petulant accents, in-your-face tremolos, filled-in chords, heart-stopping speed-ups and slow-downs, ricochet finger-work, plus the fastest interlocking octaves in history abound in Cziffra’s own transcriptions, showpieces like Brahms’ Paganini Variations, and in much of his Liszt playing (notably Cziffra’s gaunter, more volatile stereo remakes of the Hungarian Rhapsodies). And if you’re a purist, avoid the pianist’s roller-coaster, hyper-subjective, and thoroughly entertaining Chopin Etudes (I can’t resist them!). At the same time, Cziffra’s stylish and well unified Beethoven C minor Variations couldn’t be more “normal”, while less demanding encore-type fare like Beethoven’s Für Elise, Brahms’ A-flat Waltz, and Mendelssohn Songs Without Words stand out for the pianist’s limpid grace. So does his unapologetically pianistic approach to Couperin, Rameau, and Scarlatti.
Concerning the quality of sound, I’m pleased to report that everything here is newly remastered from scratch. I was able to compare roughly two-thirds of the material against previous CD incarnations, and the present transfers prove superior in each case. The strident patina of the closely miked Philips items has been tamed to more appealing effect. The flinty, sometimes monochrome ambience of the 1980s sessions recorded at the Saint-Frambourg chapel in Senlis emerges with new-found bass and midrange, as do some of the relatively boxy and dry solo items from the late 1950s. Likewise, the concerto recordings acquire appreciable heft, presence, and definition, and reveal Cziffra’s sonority in more colorful light. Perhaps 40 discs worth of Cziffra is too much for general audiences, yet for the pianist’s ardent fans, this release adds up to quite a bargain. Dare we hope for a similarly priced, packaged, and transferred Samson François edition?
