Schumann’s First Sonata is not a work that plays itself: it needs an interpreter with the ability to project its wildly creative ideas while at the same time minimizing its structural loopholes. Andreas Bach does neither. He reduces the gushing Introduzione and Allegro Vivace to plodding prose and breathes no life into the Aria’s gorgeous lines. Finicky, irrelevant accents get in the way of the Scherzo’s demon dance and drag the central Polonaise into danceless gloom. And the Finale’s dotted rhythms have no drive, continuity, and inner life until things pick up halfway through the movement. In short, an altogether superfluous Schumann F-sharp minor compared to the likes of Perahia, Arrau, Andsnes, Gilels, Pollini, and, for historic mavens, Gieseking and Sofronitsky.
The Arabeske is no better. Bach futzes around with the principal theme, never quite deciding on a basic pulse, and similarly moons over details in the interludes to the point where the music goes nowhere. With one exception, Waldszenen’s 14 movements offer more of the same gruel. By bearing heavily down on accents and exaggerating the staccatos, Bach micro-manages the opening Eintritt into a state of non-productivity. Jäger auf der Lauer’s scampering patterns are notey and undifferentiated, and the jolly triplets throughout Jagalied don’t mean a thing ’cause they ain’t got that swing, let alone one iota of Sviatoslav Richter’s suppleness and lilt. At first I found Vogel als Prophet overly withdrawn and static, but each rehearing further draws me into the pianist’s bleak, introspective conception. Bach plays the Three Fantasiestücke Op. 111 beautifully. He builds the first piece to an easy climax by allowing the bass lines to truly sing out, and makes the most of the second selection’s Schubertian melodic curves. The third movement’s softer sections feature nicely-adjusted, feathery runs in both hands. All told, a budget-priced, 75-minute disc containing 15 minutes’ worth of pleasurable listening.
