A Cornucopia of Canonical Pianists
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

You know Steinway & Sons as a piano company, but they are also a CD series now. Universal Classics has released “Steinway Legends,” a series of 10 “titles,” containing two discs apiece. Each title is devoted to a pianist. And if you want the whole set, you can get it in a miniature replica of a Steinway grand.
How’s that for marketing?
The series has been curated by a fine team, which includes Dennis Rooney, the estimable scholar and critic. In their selection of repertoire, these people have played to each pianist’s strengths. And they have given us a balance of the familiar — the expected — and the unfamiliar, or less expected.
So, who are these “Legends”? Of the 10 pianists, five are living, and very much active: Alfred Brendel (b. 1931), Vladimir Ashkenazy (b. 1937), Martha Argerich (b. 1941), Maurizio Pollini (b. 1942), and Mitsuko Uchida (b. 1948). I will glance here at the others, excluding Vladimir Horowitz (1903–89), of whom you have perhaps heard enough.
Wilhelm Kempff — who lived almost a century, between 1895 and 1991 — is a classic representative of the “German school.” We duly hear him in Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, and Brahms. But we also find him in Chopin and Liszt.
His discs begin with three of his own transcriptions of Bach chorale-preludes. And his playing, of course, is not for everybody: It can be mechanical, blunt, and harsh. I regard the way Kempff jabs out the melody in “Wachet auf!” as appalling. But other pianists of this school — e.g., Rudolf Serkin — have done the same thing. And Kempff brings an undeniable dignity.
Some of his best playing comes in one of Liszt’s “Legends,” namely, “St. Francis of Paola Walking on the Water.” We hear the mystery and mysticism of this music, and we also appreciate Kempff’s firmness and strength. He trims Liszt of bombast, so far as possible. And he makes the “story” here build with wonderful power.
Claudio Arrau (1903–1991) was a Chilean boy who went to Europe — Germany — to study and have his career. The Steinway series represents him in Beethoven and Liszt, two of his favorite composers. But we sample him in plenty of other repertoire, too.
For instance, he plays Schubert’s Allegretto in C minor, D. 915, a seldomheard work. In it, Arrau proves himself a master of phrasing. And in Schumann’s “Faschingsschwank aus Wien” — “Viennese Carnival Pranks” — he displays his signature self-possession. The Intermezzo of this work, however, is not exactly a study in evenness of line. Like Kempff, Arrau could jab out a melody appallingly.
One curiosity on these discs is “Islamey,” Balakirev’s pyrotechnical “Oriental fantasy.” Arrau learned it for the 1927 Geneva Competition, which required it.(He won, by the way.) The next year, he recorded it, and did so with fine articulation and verve. There are missed notes, yes — but this was in the days before endless studio sanitizing. You feel you’re listening to something honest.
Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (1920–95) had one of the most beautiful names in music, and one of the biggest talents. He was eccentric, personally, but largely kept extreme eccentricity out of his playing. His Steinway discs show him in, among others, Scarlatti and Debussy. He exhibits the same qualities in both composers, which is extraordinary. These qualities include clarity, precision, and incisiveness.
Michelangeli happened to be a famous player of “Faschingsschwank aus Wien,” and we get that here. The last movement, or “scene,” is marked “Il più vivace possibile” — “as fast as possible.” Michelangeli liked to drive sports cars at perilously high speeds; and he plays Schumann’s music at a perilously high speed, too. He leaves poor Arrau in the dust. But I’m not sure Michelangeli is more musical.
Last, consider Emil Gilels (1916–85), whom I regard as easily the greatest of the four pianists under review. His technique and musicality are simply exemplary. The Steinway people have him in Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms. They also have him in Mozart, a composer with whom he has never been closely associated. He should be. Take the Rondeau of the Sonata in B flat, K. 281 — Gilels employs a deliberate tempo, but you have never heard this music more alive.
He was a famous player of Chopin’s Sonata in B minor, and we have that. We also have him in a far less known sonata: Medtner’s No. 3 in G minor. Gilels makes a case for it as few others can.
And has there ever been a better player of Grieg’s Lyric Pieces? For my money, no. His limpidity, grace, wit, refinement — they are all unsurpassed. We have him in about 10 of the Lyric Pieces on these discs. And if you’ll indulge a personal memory: When I was a boy, I owned a Soviet LP of Gilels in the Lyric Pieces. I can see those strange Cyrillic letters now. And I’m glad that Gilels has not lost his power to enthrall. (Neither has Grieg.)
One might ask whether we “need” more recordings — more repackagings — of these canonical pianists. I guess my answer would be, There’s also room for a disc, or a series, well done.