International Piano - July/August 2009

This is a remarkable release. A small company, only formed in 2007, has licensed previously unissued early stereo tapes from EMI. Cherkassky recorded these tracks for HMV/EMI in 1956 and 1958 and they were issued at the time only in mono on LP and EP, but at the recording sessions experimental stereo recordings were also made. The excellent transfers, made by Ian Jones at Abbey Road Studios, have deliberately left the sound as close to the original as possible, retaining a very slight amount of tape hiss in order to faithfully present Cherkassky’s unique palate of tone colours. Indeed, the sound quality is extraordinary – just sample A Shanghai Tragedy by Abram Chasins to hear the full spectrum of Cherkassky’s glorious sound world. Of particular note are Preludes by Rachmaninov and Gershwin that have not been legitimately reissued since their appearance on 45rpm EP discs. Rachmaninov’s Op. 23 No. 2 is a little underplayed, but the famous G minor Prelude, particularly the central section, finds Cherkassky in top form. The most substantial work comes in the form of Busoni’s monumental reworking of Bach’s violin Chaconne, and one orchestral work, the once immensely popular Scherzo by Litolff with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Malcolm Sargent (not the later recording with Boult) is given a riotous performance injected with Cherkassky’s irresistible humour. Other highlights include Saint-Saens’s Le Cygne in the labyrinthine arrangement by Godowsky where Cherkassky’s control of sound is breath-taking, and some wonderfully controlled Liszt.

There are short encore pieces by Beethoven, Schubert and Poulenc and, of course, there is Chopin – a composer with whom Cherkassky has always been strongly associated. Superlative performances of a Mazurka, Waltz and Nocturne are followed by the second and third Ballades, the third being particularly memorable for its parlando opening and relaxed tempo, similar to the recording by Rachmaninov. If all this was not enough, First Hand add an appendix of alternate takes of the Gershwin Preludes and the Ballade No. 3 of Chopin. This is an excellently produced and fitting centenary tribute to one of the most extraordinary pianists of the twentieth century.

Reviewed by: Jonathan Summers

 

Enjoy the Music.com - Jan 2010

Shura Cherkassky was born in Odessa in 1909, but his family soon resettled in Baltimore, where he made a sensational debut at the age of twelve. He soon became a student of Josef Hoffman, one of the most highly regarded pianists of the age, with whom he studied on and off for twelve years. His career sputtered in the United States, but flourished in Europe, especially after the Second World War. Eventually he settled in London, and continued a hectic schedule until well into his 80's. He died in 1995 a month after giving his last recital. Like conductor Sergiu Celibidache, his reputation is built, at least in part, on what he didn't do: make recordings. Though hardly as doctrinaire as Celibidache, Cherkassky's recorded legacy was limited until (in his 80's) he committed a large part of his repertory to disc for Nimbus.

As the most long-lived student of Hoffman, Cherkassky was widely regarded as the last of the "Golden Age" pianists, "a throwback to a bygone era," and this has made him a controversial, polarizing figure. For devotees of "Golden Age" practice, Cherkassky performed with an unbridled romanticism, an individuality and freedom, that the more tightly buttoned, literal-minded pianists of the modern school were incapable of. For scholars of the modern approach, Cherkassky consistently overemphasized the left hand teasing out "inner voices" the composer never meant us to hear, thereby distorting, sometimes beyond recognition, the scores he was interpreting. You've no doubt heard the joke: "At his recital last night, X played Brahms. Brahms lost." In every version of the joke I've heard, X is always a "Golden Age" pianist, violinist, or conductor.

Though there's no getting around the fact that Cherkassky was at heart a true Romantic, his reputation as a retrograde performer is somewhat exaggerated. For one thing, no other Golden Age pianist I know played so much modern music, or was so conscientious at keeping abreast of recent developments. The Berg Sonata was a staple of his repertory, and over the course of his long career, he became an enthusiastic advocate of composers such as Boulez and Stockhausen.

The truth is, Cherkassky prized spontaneity above all, and that made him an unpredictable, sometimes frustrating artist. His appearances were always an adventure: one never knew what to expect. Caught in the right mood, he could hang fire; produce the kind of galvanizing, mesmerizing performances that justified the rhetoric of his most devoted acolytes. Sometimes, though, his approach to a score could seem slapdash, seat of the pants. At other times he seemed not to be there at all. I once heard him perform the Saint-Saens Fifth Concerto as if someone had slipped him a "micky" before he went on stage. He played this volatile concerto (which should have been right up his alley) as if half-asleep.

These early stereo recordings were made in 1956 and 1958 when the pianist was at the height of his powers, and they provide an invaluable opportunity to view an otherwise elusive artist. Certainly the best performances here demonstrate both his phenomenal technique and his mercurial personality. Lizst'sValse de l'opera Faust, simply dull and repetitious in the hands of so many other pianists, is dazzling, with many surprising, imaginative turns. In the familiar Hungarian Rhapsody, Cherkassky characteristically underplays the opening, but his buoyant, vivacious treatment of the main body of the work sounds exactly right, and (unlike Horowitz) he doesn't turn the fireworks at the end into the immolation scene from Gotterdammerung.

Quieter, more concise pieces — the Beethoven Bagatelle, the Godowsky transcription of Saint-Saens' Swan, and the delectable Liadov Snuffbox — are magical in their control of mood. The Scherzo from Litoff's Concerto Symphonique No. 4 — played here, as always, without its adjoining movements — is a virtuoso display piece of the first order, and Cherkassky tosses it off with a beguiling nonchalance, an ease of gesture that lets the music sparkle.

I did listen to several performances of the Poulenc Toccata for the sake of comparison; and surprisingly, Cherkassky makes more of this brief, electric piece than either Horowitz or the composer without in any way slowing its headlong momentum. In both versions of Gershwin's Preludes, Cherkassy is daringly free, but the performances are also convincingly bluesy, with an unusual depth of character. Both the Poulenc and Gershwin bear witness to the breadth of Cherkassky's repertory.

One would never mistake Cherkassky's Bach for Gould's, or his Schubert for Brendel's, or his Chopin for Pollini's; and it's certainly true that he tends to over pedal, exaggerate contrasts, and sometimes pause along the way to admire the view. But rarely does he violate the spirit of the music. Having recently heard way too many perfectly correct but deadly dull performances of Bach's music on piano, I found Cherkassky's unashamedly emotional reading of the Chaconne both refreshing and moving. The Chopin pieces — Mazurka, Waltz, and Nocturne — are presented with an underlying restlessness, a tension that makes them sound more ambiguous, more modern than I'm used to. The Schubert Impromptu and Chopin's Ballade No. 2 both profit from Cherkassky's bold performances. The drama he invests in these works makes them more rather than less compelling.

Abraham Chasins' once popular Chinese Pieces are examples of hollow exotica, and overstay their welcome at eight minutes. I have to admit, though, they'll probably never want for a more exciting performance. Such is not the case with the two Rachmaninoff Preludes. Cherkassky disfigures both beyond recognition. Having just reviewed Steven Osborne's complete set of Preludes, I was at first puzzled, then dismayed by Cherkassky's approach. He seems out to prove that Rachmaninoff was a much more confused and dysfunctional composer than we might have thought — and where's the profit in that? Finally, the two versions of Chopin's Third Ballade certainly demonstrate Cherkassky's love of spontaneity (as do the two very different versions of Gershwin's Preludes). The first take is tossed off in a cavalier manner. The second is so disjointed, so structurally incoherent, that the finale makes no effect whatsoever.

These performances were originally released by British HMV in mono, so this marks their first appearance in stereo. The original tapes were remastered in 2009, though it seems the original sources were not altered in any substantial way. The resulting sound is good for being more than fifty years old, but a little dull in comparison to recent releases. Certainly the sound does not approach the vivacity and realism of the Steven Osborne disc I referred to above. Still, this is a historical release, and it represents Cherkassky's art honestly.

This release makes it abundantly clear that Cherkassky could have had a major career if only he could have approached the necessary (if, to him, onerous) tasks of recording and publicity in a less capricious manner. If, say, he had signed on for the duration with only one of the many companies he flirted with, my guess is that he would have become as well known as Horowitz and Rubenstein. In the end, it's all too easy to discuss Cherkassky in the subjunctive tense. Thanks to First Hand Records, we can appreciate less what he might have been than what he was: a major pianist at the height of his powers. This is a lovingly produced and documented release, a fair and honest representation of a perplexing, fascinating figure, and a must for anyone interested in the history of 20th Century piano performance.

Reviewed by: Max Westler

allmusic.com - October 2009 ****

Unlike Vladimir Horowitz, who generally only ever recorded for RCA Victor or Columbia, pianist Shura Cherkassky, sometimes called "The Last of the Great Piano Romantics" in his later years, left a grab bag legacy of recordings ranging from his 78 rpm 1929 HMVs to his final Nimbus Records releases and live recitals, recorded by UK Decca, in the 1980s and '90s. This First Hand Remasters issue, Shura Cherkassky: The Complete HMV Stereo Recordings, collects a specific part of that legacy into a single package. It is not appropriate to refer to it as a reissue as these recordings date between 1956 and 1958 and though made entirely in stereo, the stereo LP itself did not make its bow until the very end of that timeline; even afterward, EMI observed a policy of issuing most of its recordings in mono only. So very little of this material appeared on stereo even on LPs, and very little of it has appeared on CD. From the standpoint of a package, this First Hand Remasters release is everything it should be; the two-disc set is fully documented and comes with good writing and a decent-sized book, which is tempered nevertheless by practical economics. It's overall run time of just under two hours may strike some as a little stingy, but that naturally is dictated by the material itself. The recordings, taken from the first generation stereo masters in the EMI vaults, are excellent though very occasionally some flutter is audible.

The program is very wide ranging and reflects Cherkassky's interests, running from Chopin at one end to George Gershwin and some selections from Abram Chasins' rarely recorded music at the other. About the only issue with this recording might be a subjective one; despite the "Last of the Great Piano Romantics" tag, Cherkassky's playing here is always very clean, straightforward, and well-balanced and he never goes out on a limb in terms of expression. The annotators conclude that this period represents Cherkassky's best work, and it may, but those familiar with his late recordings will note that there are far more instances of risk-taking in that body of work than here. Nevertheless, Cherkassky's fan base will definitely take interest in this, as it provides so much elusive material on this pianist in better sound than ever before, not to mention being generally well done and well worth its value.

Reviewed by: Uncle Dave Lewis

Musicweb-International - September 2009

This two CD set arrives from a rather unexpected quarter, a new company called First Hand Records. If this is a marker, and if it reflects the general level of comprehensiveness and commitment, then I think we can expect some good things from them because this is a really first class contribution to Cherkassky on disc.

This is doubly the case since, to celebrate the centenary of the pianist’s birth in 2009, First Hand has had access to the stereo tapes of Cherkassky’s EMI sessions in 1956 and 1958, not the issued monos. These experimental stereos therefore make their first appearance in a coup well worth celebrating. There are also alternative takes, of the third Chopin Ballade and the Gershwin Preludes. In addition a significant number of performances are making their first ever CD appearance. These are reason enough on their own to consider the set essential listening even before we get to the performances themselves, which are imbued with so powerful a sense of drama that listening has been, and continues to be, a charismatic pleasure.

The Bach-Busoni Chaconne is enriched with colour and expression, rather more strictly rhythmic than some may have anticipated but without Michelangeli’s chilly hauteur and command. Cherkassy’s more personalised romanticism finds a powerful ally in Busoni, and the performance registers as both selfless and also richly voiced. There are two Chopin Ballades and they offer inspiring playing, richly textured and keeping us on our toes, cutting off pedal (in the A flat major) and responding, occasionally impishly, to the rhythmic dictates of the music. His Chopin is always alive and invigorating, the D flat major Nocturne dreamily reflective without being indulgent.

His Liszt has bravura control, whilst the Saint-Saëns-Godowsky The Swan has kaleidoscopic colouristic eloquence, its voicings beautifully profuse and persuasive. The Liadov is a Golden Age performance, redolent of the pianistic lions of the past, of whom Cherkassky was one. The Rachmaninoff Preludes offer a contrast. The G minor is played with grand seigniorial authority, control of texture, dynamism and sporting a languorously romantic B section. The B flat major meanwhile is curiously unconvincing and perhaps needed more rehearsal time. This weakness is really an isolated event in the set, with the possible exception of some of the playing in the Gershwin which, for all its technical aplomb, is a stylistic mismatch. The Chasins meanwhile is full of brilliantly insouciant control but can also cut expressively deep as well - in the first of the three There’s also the glittering Litolff Scherzo with the BBC Orchestra and Malcolm Sargent - not the more familiar and later taping with Adrian Boult.

Some of these performances are available on Testament (SBT1033) but obviously in mono. The stereos are good, and capture Cherkassky’s tone well. The alternative tapes are valuable, rewarding and important. Notes are helpful and well written. Really, as I said earlier, this is a most impressive issue with quality transfers to match. High standards are set here.

Reviewed by: Jonathan Woolf

 

Musical Opinion - August 2009 ****

Hats off to First Hand Records here collecting all of Shura Cherkassky's HMV stereo recordings and for presenting them with excellent annotation and data. Full marks, too, for lan Jones's re-mastering, which presents the recordings with immediacy, freshness and tonal fidelity. The solo tapings were set down in London in 1956 and 1958 in Abbey Road Studio No. 3. The first disc opens with a magisterial and searching account of the Bach/Busoni Chaconne and continues with a delightful Beethoven Bagatelle and then a rippling, rather restless, Schubert Impromptu. Several Chopin pieces give the feeling that Cherkasskv just sat down and played; yet there is real artistry in his shading and touch, and soulful passion in tempestuous passages. The one real disappointment is Litolff’s Scherzo (with the BBCSO and Sargent, Kingsway Hall, 1958) which lacks humour and elfin tread, and is also rather loud. Saint-Saëns’s The Swan, in Godowsky’s elaboration, gives particular pleasure, as do other showpieces - by Liszt (not least his transcription of the Waltz from Gounod’s Faust, which will have you smiling), Liadov, Gershwin (rather aggressive), Rachmaninov (two Preludes played with Slavic depth), Poulenc and Chasins's Three Chinese Dances. Also included are alternative takes of the Gershwin Preludes and Chopin A flat Ballade. This is a feast for Cherkassky fans and for admirers of distinctive pianism.

Reviewed by: Colin Anderson

 

Gramophone - August 2009

First Hand’s classily presented two-disc set of the complete HMV stereo recordings made in 1956 and 1958 is a treasure trove of Cherkassky rarities. Of the twenty works here, all released for the first time in stereo, twelve have never previously appeared on CD, among them the five Chopin titles and the Bach-Busoni Chaconne. While he was generally at his best in front of an audience, these studio recordings have the same vitality and spontaneity as a live performance. The Litolff Scherzo is a delicious musical soufflé (better, I think, than the more familiar recording with Boult) while the Hungarian Rhapsody No.13 and the Faust Waltz (especially the stunning coda) are examples of pure pianistic joie de vivre. But above all – and this applies to both discs – are the sheer beauty of sound, individuality of conception and musical imagination that Cherkassky brings to whatever takes his fancy. Required listening for all students of the piano.

Reviewed by: Jeremy Nicholas

Buffulo news (USA) - October 2009 ***

The last performing pupil of the famed Josef Hofmann, Cherkassky was sometimes called the last Romantic. These two CDs are like a glimpse of that era — they are made up of encore pieces: Chopin mazurkas, Rachmaninoff preludes, even music by Abram Chasins.

Ebullient at the piano, Cherkassky sometimes gets carried away — in a few of the pieces, his fortes grow harsh and pounding. But many pieces come off beautifully, such as the flighty Litolff Scherzo—that’s a vanished piece for you, and I think we should hear it more.

Cherkassky is at his best in the slow, intricate pieces. In Godowsky’s arrangement of Saint-Saens’ “The Swan,” he calibrates the various lines so carefully that the piano sounds like wind chimes. And Lyadov’s “A Musical Snuffbox” — there is another piece to hear more — his machinations in the high treble capture completely the haunting sound of a music box.

This is an absorbing set by a master of grace and humor.

Reviewed by: Mary Kunz Goldman

 

BBC Music Magazine - September 2009
PERFORMANCE *****
RECORDING ***

The centenary of Shura Cherkassky’s birth is an excellent excuse for the archives to dig up some buried treasure. Both these releases [reviewed with BBC Legends] involve performances that have never been heard on CD before: gems for pianophiles, they preserve the great pianist’s idiosyncratic and poetic artistry in all its glory.
Born in Odessa in 1909, Cherkassky moved to America with his family in 1922 and made his debut there aged 14, creating an instant sensation. He was much influenced by his main teacher, Josef Hofmann, but in both life and art he was a law unto himself. Diminutive and unassuming, he had immense charisma on stage. His performances sound utterly spontaneous, with no piece ever emerging in quite the same way twice; yet at the piano he was the epitome of poise and control. Famously footloose, yet obsessive about detail, he lived for decades in a London hotel, more at home on the road or in the concert hall than anywhere else...
The HMV studio recordings are older, dating from 1956 and ’58, many here in stereo for the first time. A plethora of Romanticism, this, with occasional forays beyond including two different recordings each of Gershwin Preludes and the Chopin Third Ballade, illustrating the way that Cherkassky would vary his interpretations, enhancing inner voices, shades of colouring and deliciously singer-like melodic shaping. The recording seems warm, rounded and if a tad muffly, nevertheless very immediate.

Reviewed by: Jessica Duchen

 

International Record Review  - July/August 2009

During the 1950s Shura Cherkassky recorded fairly extensively for HMV, and the original LPs, long out of print, have been eagerly sought after by collectors. Only a few selections from Cherkassky’s HMV repertoire have reappeared on CD: most notably a single disc from Testament (SBT1033) and another from Medici Arts (MM013-2). (Cherkassky’s Chopin Etudes from 1953-55 were at one time licensed for inclusion in the Philips Great Pianists series).
Now, in observance of the centenary of Cherkassky’s birth, a new label called First Hand Records has unearthed stereo master tapes from his 1956 and 1958 sessions containing material that had previously been known only in mono format. These represent HMV’s earliest attempts to record in stereo and seem to have been experimental in nature. The present two-CD set offers 14 works not released before now on CD, plus nine pieces that remain available in mono on the Testament and Medici Arts discs. In addition, we are given alternative takes, previously unpublished, of Chopin Ballade No. 3 and the three Gershwin Preludes.
Sonically, these stereo tapings – all but the Litolff done in Abbey Road No. 3 – actually provide closer, brighter perspective of Cherkassky’s Steinway in contrast to the more mellow and slightly plumy aspect of their mono equivalents. The differences are certainly noticeable but not of major consequence: this will undoubtedly be a matter for the individual listener’s taste. Fortunately everything here has come up clean and well focused, with only mild, unobtrusive level of tape hiss. There is, however, a bit of flutter in Liadov’s Musical Snuffbox that is not as apparent in the mono version.
In the studio Cherkassky often retained a good deal of the spontaneity and unpredictability, but not always consistent. Of the selections here, the one disappointment is the Rachmaninov Prelude in B flat, where Cherkassky sounds uncomfortable, is less than totally accurate and unable to rise to big moments. On the other hand, the Saint-Saëns/Godowsky ‘Swan’, long a speciality of the pianist, is truly ravishing in its kaleidoscopic array of colour. The six Chopin works, full of subtle details, similarly reflect Cherkassky’s unceasing imagination. Each one offers unexpected turns of phrase or a novel application of rubato that throws fresh light on the music. For the Bach/Busoni Chaconne he adopts a stricter approach to rhythm and tempo while cultivating a wide range of dynamics and voicing. The quirkier aspects of Cherkassky’s personality, however, come to the fore in his slightly eccentric Prelude No. 2 of Gershwin. He pecks at the middle and closing sections, and for unknown reasons he omits the concluding ‘Blue note’ B that Gershwin inserts into the final chord. (Arthur Rubinstein did the same thing in his 1946 recording of the piece!)
First Hand is to be commended for its efforts in making this material readily available, and its booklet provides full background and documentation on everything include. There is no question that all Cherkassky enthusiasts, and connoisseurs of fine pianism, will welcome this release. That said, one cannot help but observe that some 40 minutes of this package remain blank and thus represent a missed opportunity. I refer to all the additional Cherkassky HMV material that still awaits proper reissue, including the Liszt B minor Sonata, Hindemith’s Third Sonata, Stravinsky’s three scenes from Petrushka, a half-dozen further Chopin pieces and Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Admittedly none of these items exists in stereo, but any mono versus stereo distinction is insignificant in relation to the desirability of having these performances available again. Let us hope First Hand, or another enterprising label, will now seize the initiative and continue to honour this great, unique musician in his centenary.

Reviewed by: Donald Manildi

 

                                                     Classical Source - May 2009  

Shura Cherkassky was born in Odessa in 1909. Like many others he fled from what became Soviet Russia and settled in the USA. For many years he studied with Josef Hoffman and was an inveterate traveller, giving recitals all over the world until two months before his death in 1995. During the 1950s he made a series of recordings for the HMV label, the stereo ones of which form the basis of these discs. Some of them were first issued in mono on either LP or EP and all the tracks here appear for the first time in stereo on compact disc.
Cherkassky had a reputation for being quixotic, a real old-world pianist and these performances are about as far from the boring facelessness of most the pianists born in the last fifty years, as you can get.
Busoni’s arrangement of Bach Chaconne (from the D minor Partita for unaccompanied violin) seems to bring out the best in every performer. Cherkassky is magnificent! From the first bar each of the variations is vividly characterised, the rhythms dance and sometimes become jazz-like. The sudden change to Adagio for the central section is perfectly judged, as well as ethereally beautiful, and the final pages are massively triumphant. The classical period is not much associated with Cherkassky and yet in the Beethoven every mood is perfectly – if very romantically – captured and the Schubert is fleet and full of totally convincing fluctuations of tempo – the work really lives and breathes.
Which brings us to Chopin and some very, very great performances. Given the generation that Cherkassky belonged to you take for granted his command of every expressive device, including mellifluous rubato. But in no age can such insight and seemingly endless re-invention of these masterworks be so taken for granted. The Mazurka is beguilingly phrased with subtle rhythmic variation; the Waltz bounces along with crisp and occasionally, almost flippant fingerwork and pointing, and the Nocturne is the audio equivalent to crushed velvet: this really is pure poetry.
At the start of the F major Ballade the mood of the Nocturne seems to continue, with a measured tempo, quiet introspection and a sense of underlying tension. When the music explodes the command is absolute. In the A flat Ballade there is a sense of authoritative understatement, beautiful syncopation in the second section and every phrase sounds spontaneously fresh and yet everything coheres. At the end of the second disc there is an alternative performance of the Third Ballade, from the same session, which is marginally slower and perhaps lacks the coherence of the ‘official’ one. However, First Hand producers should have placed these two performances together to allow side-by-side comparison.
As you would expect the Liszt pieces are a tour de force of hugely entertaining virtuosity. The highlight though has to be the transcription of the ‘Waltz’ from “Faust”. Forget elegant couples and think athletic pantomime-horse and you will get the picture! This really is wonderful and entirely intentional – Cherkassky was a great, thinking, pianist who knew exactly what he was doing.
The second disc offers a huge range of compositional styles. It opens with the once-very-popular Litolff Scherzo, which receives a dynamite performance, with Malcolm Sargent doing what he did best – accompanying with attack and precision. Godowsky’s Saint-Saëns arrangement and the piece by Liadov receive well-nigh-perfect performances; both are real delights. Rachmaninov’s G minor Prelude is despatched with real power and a very soulful central section, but the B flat example brings the only disappointing performance, tired and laboured. Gershwin’s great Preludes are also presented in two different versions, the ‘approved’ one preferable with faster tempos in the outer pieces bringing greater life and articulation and the slower tempo in the central piece even greater lyricism. Abram Chasins’s Chinese Pieces are ghastly as music – with sad attempts at ‘local colour’ – but you won’t hear them played better, whereas the Chinese influences in Poulenc’s marvellous Toccata are rather more effective and receive a powerhouse performance.
Sound-wise everything is fine regarding the re-mastering – although the mono sound was very good and the orchestra in the Litolff had greater warmth and presence – and the piano sound is superior to any direct digital recording. This is a very valuable addition to the piano catalogue.

Reviewed by: Rob Pennock

 

Audiophile Audition - May 2009 ****

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of Shura Cherkassky (1909-1995), First Hand issues all of the willful pianist’s HMV records in stereo, those made between 1956 and 1958. Cherkassky often played familiar repertory in novel ways, occasionally twisting the music to suit his own ego. Perhaps a legacy from his own teacher Josef Hofmann, Cherkassky’s exploitation of the musical values to produce an idiosyncratic effect made him among the last of the true Romantics: his ability to make gorgeous tone of the keyboard itself justifies admission into his magic circle. We hear vivid color touches in Beethoven’s G Minor Bagatelle, certainly; but several of the variants in the Bach Chaconne already point to a grand, sustained line and the capacity to shade any number of dynamic indications. The fluid rendering of the A-flat Schubert Impromptu, with its lovely “cello” melody and running figures, its agitated middle section, and its liquid da capo enjoy all the earmarks of a Cherkassky incursion into poetry.

The Chopin group comes by way of Cherkassky’s Odessa training, and the inflections ring with zal and pompous éclat. The Mazurka has a heavy tread, yes, but it is no less sensual for that. The E-flat Waltz marks Chopin’s love affair with Vienna, a suave moment of whirling brilliance on light, salon feet reminiscent of those sported by Dinu Lipatti. For gorgeous pearly-play, easily bearing the comparison with Lipatti, the D-flat Nocturne purrs evanescent magic, though I always thought Cherkassky’s true forte the F Minor, Op. 55, No. 1. After soft opening sequence in folkish figures, the big theme of the F Major Ballade bursts forth then resides in the composer’s rarified polyphony. The stretti at the coda rock with poetic violence as ripe with fury as anything from Jorge Bolet. Delicate tracery for the Ballade in A-flat, its three-register theme singing with affectionate ardor into its rocking motif, a schoolgirl’s gallop and trill, as Huneker might have quipped. Liszt’s A Minor Rhapsody, a longtime favorite of diverse personalities like Levitzky and Dichter, has Cherkassky alternately imitating the sultry cimbalom and the gypsy fiddle, the repeated notes florid with seamless mastery. The 1861 Valse from Faust (rec. 22 March 1956) has Cherkassky competitive with Georgy Cziffra for bold fioritura in Liszt, with the middle section’s evocation of “O nuit d’amour” displaying Cherkassky’s facility in blatantly romantic rhetoric that echoes the Jeux d‘eau a la Villa d‘Este or the St. Paul Bird Sermon Legend.

The exciting ticket on disc two is the 27 May 1958 nuanced inscription of the Litolff Scherzo from the London Proms with Malcolm Sargent, a perennial show-stopper for keyboard and the triangle, obviously influenced by Liszt’s E-flat Concerto. The Musical Snuffbox by Lyadov (1893) features Cherkassky’s slowing down the chimed last page as the little mechanical toy loses power. Of Abram Chasins’ Three Chinese Pieces, collectors recall the Rush Hour in Hong Kong remained in Cherkassky’s repertory as his calling-card encore. So, too, Saint-Saens’ The Swan, one of the few Godowsky transcriptions Cherkassky felt had not been overly ornamented as to obscure the melodic tissue. The blazing, tempestuous B-flat Prelude of Rachmnaninov (17 March 1958) makes us wish Cherkassky had committed a fuller group to recorded posterity. The middle section of the G Minor Prelude drips with intimations of Cherkassky’s teacher Josef Hofmann. American composition figured heavily in Cherkassky’s repertory, and the Three Preludes (1926) align Cherkassky with Levant and Wild as chief classical arbiters of the Gershwin syncopated-blues style.

An appendix adds alternate (stereo) takes of the Gershwin Preludes and the Chopin A-flat Ballade, both from 1958. A solid set dedicated to a wonderfully impish and singular keyboard artist. But may I inquire of that most elusive of Cherkassky HMV records, his mono Rachmaninov Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini with Herbert Menges--might not its 23-minute length have accommodated itself to this second disc? Maybe next time.

Reviewed by: Gary Lemco

 

The Irish Times - 19th June 2009 *****

What made the pianism of Shura Cherkassky (1909-95) so special? It certainly wasn’t anything on the lines of faithfulness to the letter of the score. It was, rather, his unerring dedication to clarity of line, the inevitable flash of inspiration, the unlikely gesture made plausible. Cherkassky liked to show how far out of bounds he could go, technically and musically, and still take his listeners with him. The Bach/Busoni Chaconne which opens this collection of fine HMV recordings from 1956 and 1958 makes all these points and more. The lion’s share goes to Chopin and Liszt, but the most astonishing gems are Godowsky’s arrangement of Saint-Saëns’s The Swan (the added filigree done with miraculous liquidity) and Liadov’s Musical Snuffbox .

Reviewed by: Michael Dervan

 

La Folia - April 2010

I’ve seen all of the pianists in this review in live concert performances and all projected beautiful timbres when the music requires them. But of all these legendary artists, the one I remember most for his ravishing, golden tone is Shura Cherkassky. He was also one of those free spirits who typified Romantic pianism at its best, playing with a spontaneity that often sounded as if he was improvising on the spot. That sort of communicative mastery is hard to achieve in the studio, but he came close to it in these late 1950s recordings, now beautifully remastered in their first CD incarnations by First Hand Records. The set is a valuable document of Cherkassky in his heyday (still on the sunny side of 50), all the more so since these 22 selections are either first CD releases or first CD releases in stereo. There’s only one piece with orchestra here, Litolff’s Scherzo, and it’s a lovely one, and most of the solo items are shorter encore pieces played with panache, Rachmaninov’s G minor Prelude, Poulenc’s Toccata, Gershwin Preludes, and the like. There are two versions of Chopin’s Ballade No. 3, always a Cherkassky specialty that he played with more poetry than most pianists could muster, an observation that holds for the other selections in his Chopin set (the Ballade No. 2, a Mazurka, Waltz, and Nocturne). For fireworks, turn to the Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 13, S244, and for spiritual and pianistic nourishment, the longest piece in the set, the Bach-Busoni Chaconne. Cherkassky may not have been “legendary” in the sense that Horowitz and Richter were, but his throwback Romanticism and golden tone made him, in the eyes and ears of the cognoscenti, a true piano legend.

Reviewed by: Dan Davis