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Leif Ove Andsnes: Dvorák: Poetic Tone Pictures With Poetic Tone Pictures, pianist Leif Ove Andsnes does for Dvorák what he did for Sibelius on his 2017 release (also on Sony Classical): charm the listener with a collection of lesser known gems. What makes the material on both releases so appealing is their plainspoken character and melodic richness. The recordings play as if both composers relaxed, set aside their usual concentration on formal construction, and gave themselves over to freer, song-styled expression. Written in the spring of 1889, each of the thirteen pieces in Dvorák's Poetic Tone Pictures plays like a self-contained, mood-individuated statement that when collected becomes the musical equivalent of a short story anthology by a single author. Such a take is shared by Andsnes himself, who says “it's like someone opening a book and saying, ‘Listen, I'm going to tell you something.' And then it just opens, piece by piece.” Of course the material is distinguished all the more when performed by the Norwegian pianist, who brings his customary elegance of phrasing and technical dazzle to the project. The release is also valuable for the fact that its contents have generally been neglected, despite being the most substantial piano collection Dvorák created. Andsnes, however, has long been acquainted with the material and even performed parts of it at a Youth Competition when he was twelve years old. It must give him enormous satisfaction to present Poetic Tone Pictures to the public and give the music the attention it has been too long denied. After listening to the recording, one might come away as mystified as the pianist by the fact that “no one seems to play it.” If the material lacks the classical formality of, say, an etude, it more than compensates for it in its fresh folk character and melodic abundance. Nostalgia, mystery, longing, mischief—all these and more emerge, with many a song enlivened by the rhythms of Czech folk dances and suggesting a programmatic element. A clear sense of progression declares itself too when lighter pieces alternate with moody reflections; dramatic contrasts also often occur within a piece. Each one has things to recommend it. “Twilight Way” segues from gentle entrancement to dynamic high-velocity before reverentially reinstating its nostalgic mood. Whereas “Toying” is naturally high-spirited and light-hearted, not to mention elevated by a lovely lyrical passage, “In the Old Castle” makes good on its Mussorgsky-esque title with a brooding evocation that, similar to “Toying,” is rendered more memorable by a dream-like component. A sparkling idyll, “Spring Song” breathes in the season's rejuvenating air with obvious delight, a celebratory mood that carries over into “Peasant's Ballad” and its effervescent waltz figures. The hush of “Serenade” is rendered even lovelier by a majestic march, and in the stately “On the Holy Mountain,” cascading patterns amplify the devotional tone. Elsewhere, “Bacchanalia” is wildness incarnate and pieces playful (“Tittle-Tattle”), stately (“Sorrowful Reverie”), and sombre ("At a Hero's Grave”) appear. No one will come away from the recording wishing it were more like Dvorák's symphonies and string quartets; on the contrary, most will, I expect, be delighted by this refreshing and too seldom heard side of the composer. And who, I might add, could not possibly be charmed by a piece titled “Goblin's Dance”?December 2022 |