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Alfred Brendels CD:

"...newly-remastered versions of its mid-1960's recordings"

"...if you want what is still one of the finest, most thoughtful selections of Liszt Hungarian Rhapsodies ever recorded, look no further..."

"At the same time, if you think you know Alfred Brendel's playing inside and out from his long series of Philips recordings, guess again. While not possessing the all-out wackiness and fire-breathing flair of Georges Cziffra in his prime, Brendel in the 1960's was no slouch in the charisma department; he was a considerably more extroverted player at that time than what he later became. The recordings he made for Vanguard, along with his Vox budget series of the complete Beethoven piano music, caught him at an early peak, with a freshness of approach coupled with spirited playing and well-thought interpretations.

There is a definite degree of daring in the performances here, as well as in the order of selections. Not many pianists would have the courage to offer the Racoczy March as a program opener. That would run the risk of making whatever follows anti-climactic. (It was also probably one reason Liszt placed it last in the original collection of 15 rhapsodies.) Here Brendel takes that chance with a smoldering march that is equal parts patriotism and diabolos, with smoky bass rumblings, pearly treble work and an inexorable building of tension. You almost expect Mephisto himself to start leading the parade.

What follows is anything but anticlimactic. If Brendel's Racoczy March carried a slight whiff of brimstone, his Third Rhapsody is heated with strong flames of passion. He plays the piece as a love duet, opening with black melancholy in the bass and feminine consolation in the treble passages that follow. Throughout, Brendel shades delicately here, pausing there to let a passage hang till it almost dissipates, and makes this rarely-played part of the set a masterpiece of storytelling.

The Second Rhapsody, probably the most famous piece that Liszt ever wrote, is even more deftly colored than the Third. The usual rhetorical flourishes are here - Liszt was nothing if not a showman - but are tempered and augmented with subtle turns of phrase, occasional rubati and pauses, and slowing to let the music breathe and resonate. He starts the quicker friss section slowly, then accelerates, slows, speeds again, but delicately, playing with the melodic line just enough to give it added shape and shade, but with taste and never with exaggeration. The cadenza Brendel supplies near the end of the Rhapsody is playful, engaging and entirely in keeping with Lisztian style, unlike the Godowsky-inspired lunacy Marc-Andre Hamelin perpetrated on his recording (although that arrangement has its own perverse charm, like a box of chocolates you keep hidden under the bed).

The Thirteenth Rhapsody is handled with equal aplomb, as well as a touch of beguilement. Brendel, in his subtle way, lets the music bewitch us for itself, but like seduction itself, the performance is not entirely predictable. Just as you think you know what is coming next, he surprises you with different voicings or slight tempo fluxuations. Nothing is overstated, and the approach is incredibly effective.

The unexpectedness continues in the Eighth Rhapsody. Brendel takes it much slower than many pianists (7:20, compared to 5:37 for Cziffra and 5:59 for Roberto Szidon in his complete traversal of the Rhapsodies), but the extra time literally opens up the piece and allows it to bloom, adding an air of nobility and scale. As a result, it sings - gloriously.

The Seventeenth Rhapsody came after Liszt (right) had stopped directly quoting "Hungarian" material, instead writing themes that synthesized their basic elements, as Bartók would do many years later. This was actually the last of the Rhapsodies to be written, in 1886, and is the most forward-looking of the set. With a considerable use of fourths, ninths and augmented chords, its bleak modernity, again, anticipates Bartók.

Brendel's approach to this chimeral work is masterly. He starts gradually, giving the melancholy its full due, following the melodic curve of the phrases while not ignoring the dissonances in the bass figures. Speeding up, he lets loose with left-hand chords like cannon shots. By the time the bell-like final measures toll, we are left devastated.

The final piece, the Csardas obstine, is more playful than what precedes it, but is another of Liszt's late experiments in minimal means to maximum effect. Ostinati, juxtaposed major and minor thirds and a rigorous development of short motifs combine to kaleidoscopic effect. Brendel's performance, again, is excellent, bringing out the work's kinship to the Rhapsodies while not forsaking its more modern elements.

The sound on this disc is vastly improved over its previous incarnations. The original LP sounded fine, but the first CD release was thin and colorless. This time, the engineers have recaptured timbres and nuances better than even on the LP. Except for a very slight opaqueness, the recording could have been made only yesterday, and the quality superlative - very much like what Philips currently gives Brendel. Vanguard has also wisely chosen to reprint Brendel's scholarly and exceedingly informative liner notes from the LP. Now if they would only lower the price."