Jean-Efflam Bavouzet plays SCHUMANN

For his first-ever Schumann recital, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has put together an intriguing programme, one in which he by no means follows obvious routes or makes life easy for himself. He begins with the Op 14 Sonata, the so-called Concert sans orchestre, which begins so strikingly with its grand gauntlet-throwing-down gesture. This is a piece that Bavouzet first encountered through Horowitz’s recording of his own edition of the work and he subsequently went to play it for the great man himself. So, as he writes, this recording, which uses Horowitz’s version, is an act of homage.

It’s all too easy for the sonata to sound so extreme that it becomes bitty, but Bavouzet gives it an overall sweep that is absolutely engaging. Others might be tempted to use the accentuation within the opening movement to drive things forwards more, or to take an even more kamikaze tempo in the finale (which is dangerously marked Prestissimo possibile), but the Frenchman knows exactly what he is doing: the finale is a masterclass in precision and clarity, even at speed, its more lyrical writing brought fully alive. And in the second-movement Scherzo the accentuation never becomes wearying on the ear. The work’s heart lies in the variations on a theme by Clara, whose mournful theme Bavouzet takes most naturally, faster and more inevitable-sounding than Demidenko, colouring the following variations with imaginative flair.

The opening movement of Faschingsschwank aus Wien can sound unwieldy if a pianist doesn’t find sufficient springiness in the chordal writing, but that’s not an issue here and the interplay of athleticism and lyricism is unerringly done. Pires takes a different view, more majestic, while Richter can sound merely relentless. But I prefer the Portuguese pianist in the Romanze, her haloed sound illuminating it from within. The Scherzino is, for Bavouzet, a study in mock pomposity, contrasting with the glorious Intermezzo, setting a gorgeous melody against churning accompaniment. Here I found the new recording just a tad strenuous-sounding – both Richter (bending the melody to his will) and Pires (confiding and tender) reveal its songful qualities more. But the chattering energy of the finale comes alive in Bavouzet’s hands, contrasting deliciously with Schumann’s little yearning phrases.

For the remainder of the recital we move to late Schumann, which suits Bavouzet well. The Op 111 Fantasiestücke are vividly drawn: by turns turbulent (No 1), halting and passionate (No 2) and full of contrast (No 3). But particularly special is the Gesänge der Frühe. It’s striking that Bavouzet is generally much closer to the score’s metronome markings than Anderszewski, though I do find the latter’s performance endlessly compelling. Highlights include Bavouzet’s shaping of the first, a solemn chorale whose anguish is barely concealed beneath the surface, the gnawing energy of the fourth, and the fifth, which is consoling in Bavouzet’s hands, and altogether more spectral in Anderszewski’s. (Harriet Smith / Gramophone)

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