Mark Obert-Thorn’s transfer of Artur Schnabel’s 1938 Brahms D minor Concerto for Naxos is cleaner and clearer than the one that appeared on Pearl some years back. To alleviate the dry, cramped qualities of the original 78 rpm pressings, Obert-Thorn admits to adding a soupçon of reverberation, and I find the results convincing if not quite as full-bodied as Anthony Griffith’s World Record Club transfer on LP. That said, I harbor ambivalence about this performance. Schnabel, for one, is not on his best form. It often seems as if the concerto is playing him, rather than the opposite. He tends to rush difficult passage work (the solo that commences the third movement, for example), snatch at phrase endings as if he’s grasping for straws, and makes a mess out of the first movement’s central octave descents. Don’t blame the recording medium: Schnabel could have re-made those octaves if he had so desired.
Musically, however, the pianist’s ideas command attention. The sheer energy of his two-handed descending scales in the third movement will astonish you, as much as the pianist’s intense, forward-moving response to the slow movement’s spacious lyrical lines might evoke Lotte Lehmann’s raw-nerve word painting of Schubert lieder. Also note how Schnabel refuses to sentimentalize the first movement’s second subject, playing it at virtually the same tempo as the theme, whereas most pianists slow down, observing a “meno mosso” indication that Brahms didn’t write. While the 1932 Backhaus/Boult Brahms D minor remains more technically reliable from the soloist’s end and far better balanced as a recording, I still find this flawed Schnabel recording more interesting than Backhaus’ solid but ordinary music making. To hear how brilliantly George Szell could clarify and shape this difficult-to-balance score, turn to his blazing Cleveland Orchestra versions with either Leon Fleisher or Rudolf Serkin.
Schnabel’s three commercial Brahms solo recordings fill out this release. Obert-Thorn’s transfers don’t have the weight and presence of Bryan Crimp’s for APR, but the pianist’s niceties of touch, nuance, and pedaling certainly come through. He builds the G minor Rhapsody (Op. 79 No. 2) from the bottom up, allowing the pillar-like bass lines to lead (the antipode to Arthur Rubinstein’s melody-oriented 1941 RCA Victor recording). The E-flat Intermezzo sings out in long, flexible lines that defy the bar lines, and emerge with a more somber countenance than usual. By taking Brahms’ dynamic indications on faith, Schnabel brings out the A minor Intermezzo’s three-against-two rhythmic patterns and achieves the composer’s “molto piano e legato” directive in the Non Troppo Presto episode with ravishingly colored accuracy.
Overall, I’d only recommend the concerto to experienced Schnabel collectors. But if you’re willing to spend a lot more money to acquire the solo pieces, APR 5526 also contains the pianist’s other 1946/47 HMV solo recordings, including his unforgettable Mozart A minor Rondo and F major Sonata K. 332.
