Sergei Prokofiev
The Nine Sonatas for Piano; Sarcasms, Op. 17
Anne-Marie McDermott, piano
Review By Max Westler
Click here to e-mail reviewer

  Anne-Marie McDermott is a thirty-something American-born-and-trained pianist who seems poised on the brink of a major career. I first encountered her playing in a Gershwin program that included the Rhapsody in Blue and Concerto in F, and was surprised and delighted by her ability to freshen, enliven this overly familiar music without resorting to mannerism. Most pianists go out of their way to emphasize Gershwin's audacious (at the time, now dated) use of jazz, but McDermott strikes a more just balance between the popular and symphonic elements in these scores, providing more richness and contrast, a sense of graceful play. Of course it's a long way from Gershwin's facility to the knuckle-busting challenges of Prokofiev's sonatas. There are currently well over two hundred performances of the Rhapsody in the catalogue, but only four of the complete Prokofiev sonatas. A false comparison, I know, but it suggests that this music requires, besides virtuosity and intelligence, no small amount of determination and courage.

The greatest interpreter of Prokofiev's sonatas for piano (other than the composer himself) is undoubtedly his countryman Sviatoslov Richter. Richter knew the composter personally, played these works throughout his career, and was the dedicatee of the Ninth Sonata. Certainly no one has done a better job of representing the disruptive, bipolar nature of these scores, their neuroticism and grotesquerie. But if you're looking to collect Richter's Prokofiev, there are problems. Sadly, he never recorded the entire set. For the most part, his interpretations exist in multiple versions scattered over many recordings, mostly live recitals.

Richter's live recordings are important, if not essential historical documents, but the sound reproduction is often barely acceptable and sometimes abysmal. On too many of them, there's a fairly abrasive level of audience noise. I'm not sure why, but Richter seemed to attract noisy audiences. There is, for example, the famous Pictures at an Exhibition — perhaps the greatest Pictures ever — seemingly performed in a tuberculosis ward in Sofia, Bulgaria. In a live performance of the Second Sonata from Vienna, a woman launches into a coughing jag in the middle of the third movement, the quietest passage in the entire work. This goes on far too long, but ends rather abruptly. I like to imagine that someone nearby is very quietly strangling her.

Richter is certainly not responsible for the fact that his authoritative approach cast such a long shadow, encouraged many imitators whose interpretations were often reductionist and shallow. I'm thinking here of Alexis Weissenberg, but God knows, there were and remain many others whose basic approach alternates fast and slow, loud and soft, and all in shades of gun-metal grey.

Anne-Marie McDermott has been a passionate advocate for the piano music of Sergei Prokofiev her entire career, and she brings to this music an intelligence, imagination and sensitivity that open a window to the composer's soul. In contrast to the glinting steel that passes for color in most performances of this music, she employs a wide and vibrant tonal palette that fully represents the kaleidoscopic range of moods one finds in these scores: their percussive violence, infernal energy, hallucinatory swells and calms. In McDermott's knowing hands, each sonata is allowed its distinct personality. The fragrant romanticism of the First, the youthful daring of the Second, the acerbic classicism of the Fifth, the brutality and pathos of the "War" sonatas, and the delightful, almost childlike simplicity of the Ninth are all communicated with expressive conviction. She also makes a strong case for the less well known sonatas, especially numbers Four and Five, both of which I've seriously undervalued in the past. Though she cannot quite match Richter's explosive allegros or whiplash turns of phrase, her sense of structure and drama is no less acute than his. And in the monumental Sixth, one of Prokofiev's greatest works in any medium, she is without peer. It's hard to believe this music could be any better performed than it is here. The early, weird, and rarely played Sarcasms counts as a substantial bonus.  

Discussing Prokofiev's performance style as a pianist, David Oistrach once said, "What amazed me about his playing was its striking simplicity. Not a single superfluous gesture, not a single exaggerated expression of emotion, no striving for effect." The same can be said of McDermott's playing here. There will always be dazzling performances of individual sonatas (Pollini's apocalyptic, heart-stopping Seventh, for example), but if you want the whole story, this remarkable set is definitely the way to go.

In case you're wondering, the sound (engineered and mastered by Adam Abeshouse) is well nigh perfect. We're close enough to hear every shade and nuance, but far enough back to get a full, rich sound in the fortissimos. There is a remarkable sense of balance between light and dark, loud and soft. If you love the music of Sergei Prokofiev, but don't know his piano sonatas, or only know the "War" sonatas, then I urge you to hear this set, for it contains some of his most revealing and compelling music.

Performance: 

Enjoyment: