Robert Schumann Fantasie op. 17, Kreisleriana op. 16 & Arabeske op. 18

Hideyo Harada is a prize-winning pianist trained in Japan, Germany and Russia who offers a Schumann recital showing the composer at his dizzying and Romantic height. For Schumann the first movement of the Fantasie, an outcry to his beloved Clara, is "more impassioned than anything I have ever written; a deep lament for you". The challenge is both elusive and intimidating, and although Harada's vividness and instinct for drama are hardly in doubt, she is less attuned to subtlety. She launches the Fantasie in boldly arresting style and the wild, quasi-fugal chase at the heart of the sixth section of Kreisleriana holds no terrors for her. At the same time she is overanxious to squeeze the last ounce out of every phrase and the result can be stilted and periodically pugnacious.

This is notably true in the Fantasie's finale, where you are hardly carried away by music once described as being like constantly shifting sunset vapour. The silvery chiming at the centre of Kreisleriana's opening is overinterpreted (try Géza Anda on Testament for another world of elegance and finesse). The fifth section from the same work is another example of a pianist disinclined to leave well alone, and even in smaller, less demanding fare such as the Arabeske (offered, as it were, as an encore), the playing is marred by selfconscious voicing and inflection. Such intense scrutiny is a far cry from, say, Pollini's formidably patrician style in the Fantasie (DG, 6/96) or Argerich's flashes of summer lightning in both the major works (RCA, 1/91). Audite's sound, like the playing, is bold and brilliantly lit.

Strange that only three years ago Audite issued another Schumann piano disc that also contained the marvelous Fantasy. Nicolas Bringuier was the pianist at the time, and his wonderful renditions propelled him onto my Want List for 2007. That recording is also Super Audio, and I was a little startled to see the same work turn up here in the same format by the same company. Whatever the reason, it does offer ample opportunity to make a direct one-to-one comparison. Japanese pianist Hideyo Harada has a warm, richly upholstered tone with a fine, easy touch that brings out the best of her instrument. Peter Burwasser was quite impressed by her Grieg Lyric Pieces (Fanfare 31:6, and I like them also), while Peter J. Rabinowitz in 32:5 seemed to appreciate her tonal qualities and the spectacular recording of Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky a little more than her playing, though he considers her far from negligible.

I find myself leaning toward Rabinowitz in this one; the sound is truly spectacular, even more vivid and present than on the Bringuier recording that I was so taken with in 2007. But interpretatively I have some problems with this issue. For one, it has to be the slowest Fantasy I have ever heard. Just putting it side-by-side with the Bringuier one sees that Harada is a full six and one-half minutes slower than her company cohort, spread fairly evenly over all three movements. I have always thought that Schumann played slowly could easily be made to sound like Liszt, and this is a prime example, especially in the rather harmonically divergent and offbeat first movement. The middle movement is rather impervious to slow-downs in general, but the last must have some connecting tissue to support it, and while I am able to simply sit back and indulge my senses in her lovely tone I cannot get over the frustration of the tempo wrecking the emotional moment.

There has been such a slew of excellent Kreislerianas recently that it is beginning to get tricky making judgments about the piece. Anyone with a technique can bring the thing off to a certain extent, and Harada has that; but again I detect a certain tendency to not only smell the roses but prune and fertilize them as well, and that dissolves some of the momentum even though the work is character-oriented per movement. As I have mentioned before, there is a subtle thread that connects even the most disparate of Schumann’s separate pieces within one work, and if that thread is severed things become more difficult to comprehend.

This is not to say that these are uninteresting performances or badly played—far from it. But competitively more is needed. Harada does this in the Arabeske, one of the best versions I have heard. This time the propensity for microscopic examination does not get in the way, and her tone is simply stunning. But for the Fantasy I would stick with Richter, Hamelin, or the abovementioned Bringuier, while Kreisleriana fends better under Horowitz, Würtz, or Argerich.

When measured against all the other Schumann releases I have reviewed in the past year, this one places dead last. In almost every track there is at least one sizable stretch of music that comes off as strange. Her telltale mannerism in the Fantasy’s first movement involves slowing down at all the phrase endings. Why not just play it straight or try rushing things for a change? II, a march Schumann indicates should be “energetic”, is deflated right from the start. There’s no meat in the thick chords and no snap in the dotted rhythms. More problems plague the last movement. Though the overall wash of sound remains pretty enough, there is little care given to any of the melodic lines. A deadness pervades the whole thing—most excruciatingly at the contrarymotion arpeggios that appear near the work’s close. Harada’s Kreisleriana is slightly better, but all the extroverted pieces are too harsh, aggressive, and note-heavy; all the introverted ones are too soft and wandering. Of course, I have nothing against pianists working to cultivate a bipolar sound to reflect Schumann’s conflicted moods and mental states. But if the music becomes unpleasant to hear in either direction, you have gone too far. Harada would be well served by going back to basics, letting the scores suggest interpretations rather than imposing her own on them. I am sure she would find that the more natural-sounding results, which demand less patience from audiences, would attract far more of them to her product.

Hideyo Harada trained in her native Japan, as well as in Europe and, latterly, at the Moscow Conservatory with the venerable Victor Merzhanov (still teaching, aged 91). This third release for Audite reveals her as an engaging artist. Throughout, her carefully detailed fingerwork and pedalling bring clarity within the rich textures, and although she responds well to the introspective moments of the Fantasie – especially in an unusually serene final movement, which becomes something of a delicious reverie – she is more than equal to the work's blustery, testosterone-driven passion. The fact that her expressive force seems entirely driven from within makes for a highly meaningful account.

Her Kreisleriana displays the same combination of athleticism and poetry. An increasingly transparent and deftly spun middle section in no.3, 'Sehr aufgeregt', emerges into a fiery climax, amply underlining the wide mood-swings of Johannes Kreisler – the unstable, borderline-genius music-master of E.T.A. Hoffmann's creation, on whom Schumann based this set of fantasias.

Young Brazilian-born, Paris-based Felipe Scagliusi features Schumann's Piano Sonata no.3 as the focus of his new disc, a work still unjustly neglected despite being championed by Horowitz. Scagliusi is strongest here in the darkly-tinged slow variations movement, based on an Andante theme by the young Clara Wieck. What hinders the rest of the sonata is a lack of surging heroism, which tends to flatten even Scagliusi's unarguably impressive quicksilver articulation in the Finale. 'Tumult and chaos are expressed in a grandiose style,' Harry Halbreich is quoted as saying of the first movement in the booklet notes. Something of this spirit seems to escape Scagliusi. The sonata's flattened trajectory spills into the first of the three op.28 romances in particular, and in no.2 a more lingering, cantabile line is necessary. Scagliusi has scaled the technical demands of these works, but the peak of spontaneous expression seems a short way into the distance.

Claves' ongoing series of Schumann's complete solo piano works continues with Swiss pianist Francesco Piemontesi. There is an immediacy to his characterization of themes, a strikingly coloured quality throughout – even in the tumultuous first movement of the third sonata – though some listeners may wish for a shade more heft. This is neat and natty Schumann, and no worse for it: its freshly sprung feel comes to the fore in the third sonata's Scherzo, while the Finale sparkles with clarity.

Piemontesi's control of intensity in the Fantasie is one of its key features, giving the hymn-like 'Im Legendenton' (In the manner of a legend) section an unusual transparency. His distinctive musical personality and unshowy approach bring a new lightness, for example, to the often stridently march-like second movement of the Fantasie. The turbulent Allegro vivace first movement of the sonata no.1 is served up with a degree of light majesty and the second-movement Aria achieves a twilit colouring. This isn't the gutsiest Schumann playing, but it is unswervingly sure-footed, and attests to a genuine talent. Though the works on Tzimon Barto's disc are, for many, not top-drawer Schumann, it's rewarding to have the two piano-concertante works (op.92 and op.134) as bedfellows. Nestling between them is the rarely heard 'Ghost' Variations, though with the five variations all reflecting the stasis of the theme, this is perhaps a piece that appeals mainly to collectors.

The pianist's role in op.92 is more restricted than in op.134, which gives American Tzimon Barto more scope to flex his pianistic muscle, which he does with flair. The Six Etudes were written, following a period of intensive counterpoint study, for a kind of pedal extension device placed under the grand piano, to emulate the organ pedals. These are wonderful pieces, and show Eschenbach and Barto well matched both in touch and in temperament.

At around 56 minutes' duration, Claire-Marie Le Guay's CD may not be the most generously filled release, but this German quartet and French pianist give unstintingly of their considerable energies. In the first movement of the Piano Quartet, the languorous Sostenuto introduction bursts into an Allegro with focused rhythmic drive. The following Scherzo has a brilliant sense of urgency. The piano sound is present enough to highlight Le Guay's agile touch, but it blends in well with the ensemble as part of a soundscape that is rich and detailed.

In the Piano Quintet the risingscale figure of the Scherzo is bracingly articulated, and the same movement's rustic second trio is as engaging as its bristling coda. The finale's closing fugue, which combines its own march-like theme with the first movement's opening theme, gathers a formidable momentum.

Sie ist eine in Deutschland lebende Japanerin, die in zahlreichen Wettbewerben ausgezeichnete Pianistin Hideyo Harada. Unter anderem gewann sie 1984 den Concours International d'Éxécution Musicale in Genf sowie 1991 den 1. Preis beim Internationalen Schubert-Wettbewerb in Dortmund.

Auch wenn Hideyo Harada weltweit konzertiert und gemeinsam mit Schauspielern wie Corinna Harfouch, Katja Riemann oder Hanns Zischler ungewöhnliche musikalisch-literarische Programme gestaltet, ist sie nur wenigen bekannt. Dabei machte die japanische Pianistin mit CD-Einspielungen von Klavierwerken Griegs und Tschaikowskys ebenfalls auf sich aufmerksam.

Jetzt erschien beim Label "audite" ihre neue CD, auf der sie – wen wundert's im Schumann-Jahr – Klavierwerke von Robert Schumann eingespielt hat. Doch Hideyo Harada ist durchaus eine eigene Schumann-Perspektive gelungen, die weniger den leidenschaftlich-romantischen Ausdruck anstrebt als vielmehr den subtilen Zwischentönen dieser Musik nachspürt. Man fühlt sich beim Zuhören gleichsam in die Welt des introvertiert-verträumten Eusebius versetzt – um einmal diese Fantasiefigur Schumanns zu bemühen, die im Kontrast zum extrovertiert-expressiven Charakter ihres Gegenpols Florestan steht.

Apollinische Klarheit

Es sind keine auffälligen Rubati oder überraschenden Betonungen, die das Schumann-Spiel der Hideyo Harada so spannend machen, sondern vielmehr eine geradezu apollinische Klarheit auch in den leisesten Passagen und ihre insgesamt überaus differenzierte Klanggebung. Mit großer musikalischer und pianistischer Sicherheit bringt Hideyo Harada die vielschichtige Dialektik aus Zartem und Ungestümem in Schumanns Klavierpoesie zum Ausdruck. Ihr eher verinnerlichtes, einfühlsames und dabei keineswegs blutleeres Ausleuchten der komplexen Seelenzustände in Schumanns Musik bleibt zudem immer in lebendig-organischem Fluss.

Mitreißende Gesamtdramaturgie

Trotz allem Gespür für die feinen Kontraste vermag die japanische Pianistin dieser Musik zugleich eine mitreißende emotionale Gesamtdramaturgie zu verleihen. Insgesamt also eine auch wegen des brillanten und zugleich sehr natürlichen SACD-Klangbildes rundum empfehlenswerte Aufnahme. Selbst für diejenigen, die schon Einspielungen der C-Dur-Fantasie, den "Kreisleriana" oder der Arabeske op. 18 - alles ja durchaus populäre Schumann-Meisterwerke – im Plattenschrank haben.

Was auch immer das Schumann-Jahr uns an neuen Aufnahmen noch bescheren wird: Dieser dritten Audite-Produktion mit Hideyo Harada wird ein Platz im künstlerischen Spitzenfeld kaum streitig zu machen sein. Natürlich gibt es im Katalog schon viele überzeugende Interpretationen von Schumanns Klavierwerken. Aber nur ganz wenige Aufzeichnungen vereinen auf so gewinnende, ja atemberaubende Weise, was eine CD für die berühmte einsame Insel empfiehlt: makellose Texttreue, hervorragende pianistische Realisierung und sinngebende Interpretation. Und dies bei sehr gutem, natürlich brillantem State-of-the-Art-Klang.

Nur wer im Falle Schumanns romantischen und genialischen Überschwang für unverzichtbar hält, wird bei Harada nicht voll auf seine Kosten kommen. Aber es geht eben auch anders: Die in Deutschland lebende Japanerin ist eine Pianistin der klassisch klaren Umrisse (und einer inzwischen hervorragenden Pianissimo-Kultur), die aber die Werke fabelhaft auszuhören versteht und manuell in der Lage ist, ihre Vorstellungen perfekt zu realisieren – sogar die berüchtigt heikle Sprung-Coda des Mittelsatzes der Fantasie ist konturiert bewältigt. Dabei erspart sie sich und ihren Hörern alle konventionellen Vortragsgesten wie aufgesetzte Rubati oder zusammenhanglos hervorgehobene Melodietöne und Mittelstimmen, mit denen Klavierspieler so gern „auf Romantik“ machen. Harada spielt nur, was die Noten hergeben, dies aber mit aller Entschiedenheit und viel Fantasie. So gelingt es ihr, die bekannt „schwierigen“, versickernden Stellen in den Ecksätzen der C-Dur-Fantasie oder ähnlich heikle Passagen der„Kreisleriana“ wie selbstverständlich mit Leben zu erfüllen: eine fabelhaft erhellende Darstellung.

Man weiß, dass es eine Unzahl asiatischer Musiker gibt, die atemberaubende Techniker sind, doch denen das tiefe Verständnis für die europäische Musikkultur einfach fehlt. Viele schaffen es dennoch sich mit Augenwischerei und einem geschickten Marketing zu behaupten. Hideyo Harada muss man allerdings zugestehen, eine wunderbare Interpretin zu sein, die nicht nur über eine makellose Technik verfügt, sondern einen direkten, ungezwungenen Zugang zu den Werken findet. Zwar bleibt das typisch romantische Element im Hintergrund, aber die Intelligenz und das Feeling, mit denen die Pianistin der Musik von Schumann auf den Grund geht, zeugen von größter Musikalität. Und dass Schumann auch ohne zu viel Romantik bestehen kann, das beweist uns Hideyo Harara mit jedem Anschlag. So schön und fließend, so atemberaubend und intensiv hat man diese Werke schon lange nicht mehr gehört. Und gerade das Fehlen dieser romantischen Linie öffnet Türen für eine neue substantielle Auslotung fern ab aller Klischees. Ein Must, zumal die SACD-Aufnahmetechnik ebenso überzeugend und klar ist wie das Spiel der Pianistin.