By and large, Alessandra Ammara’s crisp technique and active musical mind suit Schumann’s mercurial style. In Carnaval, the pianist’s brisk, rhythmically incisive introduction to the Préambule appropriately hints at the party ahead. I like the mock stolidity and rare feeling of two beats to a bar (as opposed to a heavy four) that Ammara brings to Pierrot, Papillons’ sharply etched articulation, and those seemingly preplanned yet never fussy lurchings of pulse in Arlequin, Florestan, and Reconnaissance. She stresses the Paganini movement’s imitative writing as if Schumann were foreshadowing Steve Reich’s phase shifting techniques, and that’s a good thing! Occasionally Ammara holds back dynamics (the finale is underplayed) and is less generous with the pedal than we’re accustomed to from Schumann luminaries like Cortot, Horowitz, François, Kempff, and Arrau.
Faster, extroverted movements convince more than their slower, more introspective reflective counterparts in Ammara’s Davidsbündlertänze. My main quibble concerns her tendency to round off phrases with ritardandos that impede the music’s organic flow. As a result, No. 1’s soaring lines lose their urgent edge, No. 2 drags, No. 5 is a shade soft-grained and overly tapered, while Nos. 14 and 17 lack rhythmic backbone. On the other hand, No. 8’s rapid “stride piano” oom-pah left hand quietly scampers with lightness and nervous energy, and Ammara hustles No. 12’s leaping melodies to marvelous “hiccupping” effect. The bright, close-up, slightly strident sonics lack the warmth and ambient dimension characterizing the best-sounding piano SACDs on the market.
