Elizabeth Sombart's new CD of Mozart Piano Concertos in what could well become a complete series. In K.271 she relishes the opening joyous question and answer, that innovative to and fro between soloist and orchestra. And while she may lack the magical ease and fluency of the greatest Mozart pianists(I am thinking of Kempff, Brendel, Anderszewski and Perahia and regretting Stephen Kovacevich's failure to complete his cycle) there is no doubting her commitment. She finds the tragic note at the heart of the central Andantino(even when there is too little flow), music in which, as Angela Hewitt puts it, 'darkness descends where previously there was light,' and there is no lack of joie- de- vivre in the finale's riotous gaiety.
Less positively, Stombart demonstrates in both Concertos the way Mozart cruelly exposes the least imperfection, the tinniest technical flaw and above all, rhythmic instability. Trills, in particular, are hardly her forte and are too often ill-focused.
More generally, if both Concertos are not among the composer's most celebrated(four of which appear on Sombart's previous issue) they have received the highest praise. For Alfred Brendel K.271 is 'one of the greatest wonders of the world' while for Oliver Messiaen the 'Andantino' from the same Concerto is 'one of the most beautiful and noble.' Both Concertos require the highest level of performance, and Sombart made me recall a conversation with the great Czech pianist Ivan Moravec who, listening to my enthusiasm for Cortot asked, did I not think that the greatest wonder occurs when poetry is combined with a flawless technical sheen(he cited Michelangelo and Krystian Zimerman as examples). Considering such a thought-provoking comment I have to say that by the highest standards Sombart's playing has an insufficient sense of texture and variety. The Royal Philharmonic under Pierre Vallet accompany with greater energy than finesse, but Rubicon's sound is exemplary and four delightful photographs of the pianist are included.
Bryce Morrison