When it comes to program building, normal pianists save Scriabin’s tumultuous and incendiary Vers la flamme for a grand finale. To open with Vers la flamme, however, takes real high-stakes daring. As such, Severin von Eckardstein throws all of his cards on the table, so to speak, imbuing the music with passion and ferocity. His tremolos have a Horowitz-like cutting edge, helped by the Bechstein grand’s bright patina.
Speaking of tremolos, I’ve always been bothered by Otto Singer’s rattling and predictable use of them throughout his solo piano arrangement of Strauss’ Death and Transfiguration. Eckardstein, however, has concocted a more pianistic and idiomatic treatment, where the climaxes explode up and down the keyboard as if, well, Scriabin himself had a hand in the process.
Going from Strauss to Messiaen is a bit of a shock, especially considering Eckardstein’s hard-hitting articulation and Lisztian fervor in the final piece from Vingt Regards sur l’enfant Jésus. His sound world differs from the blended colors and nuanced warmth that Martin Helmchen, Bertrand Chamayou, Steven Osborne, Peter Serkin, and Anton Batagov bring to this repertoire. Eckardstein then improvises some convincing fake Messiaen that turns into fake Strauss and gradually settles into fake late Beethoven before settling into Beethoven for real.
Aside from his aversion to long legato lines, the pianist’s terse, concentrated way with Op. 111’s first movement reminds me of how my late critic colleague and friend Harris Goldsmith characterized Maurizio Pollini’s interpretation as one of “purposeful bleakness”. The Arietta’s variations are assiduously unified, while Eckardstein’s potent left hand furnishes welcome rhythmic backbone and inner voice activity. The long chains of trills convey clarion force rather than ethereal mist, not unlike Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s controversial Decca studio recording. This gutsy program of heavy-hitters adds up to a most absorbing listening experience.
