Pianist Wolfgang Leibnitz, who studied with Claudio Arrau, aspires to his teacher’s broad, ultra-serious, rhetorical Schumann style yet lacks the older master’s organic virtuosity, warmth of tone, majestic sense of flow, and deep humanity. Leibnitz drains Papillons of all its lightness and fanciful character, transforming the composer’s impetuous mood swings and rhythmic verve into a dour, bleak, and joyless opus.
While a modicum of sensitivity informs some of the Symphonic Etudes, namely No. 11 and the posthumous fourth and fifth variations, rarely has the rest of the work sounded so dull and pedantic. Leibnitz generally favors slow, plodding tempos, poisoned by phrase distentions that are more mannered than illuminating (Etudes 1, 2, and 9, for example). You’ll grit your teeth as Leibnitz transforms the third etude’s bristling right-hand rotary patterns into lifeless staccato spitballs. At least the Finale boasts genuine energy and momentum: too little too late, I fear. Fortunately, Leibnitz pulls together for a fluid and cogently-shaped reading of Schumann’s variations based on the main theme to the Andante from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Even so, Cyprien Katsaris brings more color and textural contrast to this rarely heard work. A disc to avoid.
