Grmiaud vs. Ashkenazy

A while ago, I pitted Hélène Grimaud’s rendition of Beethoven’s Tempest sonata against that of Andras Schiff. Grimaud’s most recent CD is that of Beethoven’s Emperor concerto (No. 5, E-flat) accompanied by the Dresden Staatskapelle under Vladimir Jurowski (about whom I know nothing). I own the CD, and since in addition to it, I also have a recording of Vladimir Ashkenazy performing the Emperor with the Chicago Symphony under Solti (part of a complete cycle of Beethoven concertos), I figured another comparison would be fun.

I should start out by saying that the comparison is not entirely fair. Grimaud was recorded barely a year ago, in December of 2006, while Ashkenazy dates back from the early 1970s; it was digitally remastered for a CD release in the mid-1990s. As a result, the Grimaud disc sounds vastly better. The orchestral accompaniment in particular sounds rich, with each instrument clearly delineated and recorded with impressive fidelity to its natural timbre. The orchestral tracks on the Ashkenazy disk, by comparison, sound a bit like a muddy mess. Still, for its vintage, it sounds good enough to attempt a meaningful comparison.

It would be fair to say that the two interpretations are not dramatically different. Neither one is radical. A listener who already has a copy of one does not need to spend money to buy a copy of the other. That said, identifiable differences do exist. The most obvious one is once again in the recording – on the Grimaud disc, the balance overwhelmingly favors the soloist. It is clear that the orchestra is there to accompany and provide support. The focus is unrelentingly on Grimaud herself. Ashkenazy, by contrast, is more of an equal partner with the Chicago Symphony. The balance is even, and both the soloist and the orchestra command roughly the same amount of attention. In that respect, the Ashkenazy/Chicago approach actually appeals to me more. Beethoven’s orchestral writing in the Emperor is so rich, varied and interesting that it’s a shame to gloss over it.

Solti’s tempos are a little slower than Jurowski’s. They are not slow in an absolute sense, but the difference is noticeable, and once again I think Solti’s approach works better. He directs his orchestra with enough brio not to lose the momentum, but at the same time I think the music benefits from a little deliberation, and Solti’s experience trumps Jurowski’s youthful (judging by the liner photos, at least) energy. Beyond tempos, Chicago’s Emperor, especially in the first movement, sounds more ceremonial, weighty, more, well… imperial. Normally, I shy away from such pompous renditions, preferring more casual approaches, but here I think it works to the music’s advantage. So on the orchestral front, the Ashkenazy disc wins.

The soloists are another matter. Grimaud is more passionate and emotional throughout the concerto, especially on the first and last movements. In the rubato introduction, her rhythm is more free, she almost syncopates her phrases. By comparison, Ashkenazy sounds mechanical and robotic, and continues to sound that way throughout the movement. This is all relative, mind you – Ashkenazy is not bad, he is a virtuoso of the highest caliber, and there is enough emotion in his playing to result in a solid, satisfying interpretation. In a side by side comparison, however, Grimaud, aided no doubt by the de-emphasized orchestra, swept me off my feet with her feeling.

The difference is the least pronounced in the slow movement. Here, the music obscures any variance in interpretation. I don’t normally dwell on slow movements. They can frequently be, not to put too fine a point on it, plain boring. Not so in the Emperor. It is breathtakingly gorgeous music, but even beyond that, every time I hear it, I am struck with just how modern it sounds. It is impossible to believe that it was composed in 1809. Both Grimaud and Ashkenazy, and both orchestras, do it full justice.

If I were to take the relative age of the recordings and the resulting difference in audio quality out of the equation, and assign points in various categories, I would have to call the comparison a tie. Ashkenazy/Chicago win on the orchestral front, but Grimaud edges Ashkenazy out as a soloist, even if by a tiny margin. Fundamentally, though, it doesn’t really matter – both are first-rate recordings, even a demanding listener would be happy with either.

A bit of a personal disclaimer, though I am not sure it has any bearing on anything: decades ago in Moscow, long before I was born, my father, even though he was much younger, knew Ashkenazy’s father personally; they frequently played chess backstage. Ashkenazy’s sister was also a talented pianist and an aspiring soloist in the mid-1960s. When Ashkenazy defected to the UK, however, the Soviet government destroyed her budding career in retaliation.