These are the notes to the archiphon CD “Dinu Lipatti: Cornerstones, 1936-1950”, produced for the 50th anniversary of his death. We had intended to include with the Zurich concert recording the 3 radio interviews with Lipatti made the year of his death, but two of them and a composite of the third were published on another label just before we went to press. The program was changed to include a variety of his rarer recordings.
The album is available for download on iTunes here
It is difficult to believe that 50 years have passed since Dinu Lipatti’s death. Who could have imagined that a pianist who never left Europe and made just over three hours of recordings would, more than half a century later, be internationally recognized as one of the most important pianists of the century? Key elements of his biography read like a Hollywood movie and have likely added a degree of interest in his work. However, it is clearly the penetrating nature of his pianism, at once direct, sensitive, and mysterious, on which his reputation lies.
A scandalous error
The fanatical interest in his extraordinary musicianship has since his premature death spurred a frantic search for live recordings in an effort to add to his regretably scant discography. Of all the posthumously-released live recordings, perhaps none has acquired as much notoriety as that of Chopin’s First Piano Concerto. Through a series of circumstances of remarkable complexity (more than the format of CD liner notes can fully clarify), a tape of the Polish pianist Halina Czerny-Stefanska circulated on record as a Lipatti performance for some 15 years before the error was detected in 1981. (All records listing May 1948 as the recording date and an “unidentified orchestra and conductor” are in fact the Czerny-Stefanska performance.) At that time, a tape of an authentic performance was presented to EMI by the great Lipatti admirer Dr. Marc Gertsch of Bern. This tape of a Zurich concert from February 7, 1950 not only included Chopin’s E Minor Concerto, but the D-Flat Nocturne Op. 27 No.2, and the Etudes in E Minor Op.25 No.5 and G-Flat Op. 10 No.5. Lipatti’s encore of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” was not recorded.
Source material
At the age of 15, Gertsch recorded his tape one year after its initial 1950 broadcast from a collector who owned a tape in wonderful sound. As they had no sophisticated means to make the transfer, Gertsch recorded it with a hand-held microphone, resulting in its less-than-ideal sound quality. A later visit to the collector revealed that he had erased the recording with a Wagner opera (“giving us one more reason to dislike Wagner,” Gertsch quipped) and so there was no known means for him to obtain a finer copy.
EMI’s Walter Legge, who had been Lipatti’s recording producer, learned of the existence of a tape of this Zurich Concert in 1960, when a collector named Dr. Kaspar came forth with a private tape of the broadcast. The sound quality was superb, and EMI hoped to release the recording with the then-recently-discovered performance of Bartok’s Third Concerto (only recently issued on EMI, Tahra, and Urania). Dr. Kaspar apparently withdrew his offer, however, when copyright inquiries were made. A different tape was presented by another collector; while it was evident that it was not of the Zurich concert, it is said that Lipatti’s widow, Ernest Ansermet, and Walter Legge expressed their belief that it was a Lipatti performance, and so it was issued. It was this tape that turned out to be the commercial recording by Halina Czerny-Stefanska.
Other sources
While it might appear that Gertsch’s tape has been the only one of the Zurich concert to survive, this is not the case. A few years back, this writer obtained from a former Lipatti pupil a vinyl pressing of the same performance which clearly comes from another source. There is more radio interference from neighbouring radio stations than in Gertsch’s tape and a one-minute gap in the first movement. However, some sections missing from Gertsch’s tape (one measure in the first movement and the final two chords of the Nocturne) remain intact. All previous releases of these recordings have replaced bar 222 of the first movement with the same phrase from another (non-Lipatti) performance, and the end of the Nocturne with that of Lipatti’s 1947 Columbia recording. These performances are therefore here presented complete for the first time.
A small reel tape recently found in Gertsch’s collection includes the final section of the middle movement of the Concerto, along with the two Etudes Lipatti had played after the Nocturne, in stunning sound. Although it made its way into Gertsch’s hands via Lipatti’s widow, its original provenance is unclear. One theory is that Dr. Kaspar copied excerpts of his tape to indicate its authenticity. As the sound quality is so remarkable, the Etudes on this disc (as on archiphon 112/3) are taken from this source material. However, for this release the opening of the Etude Op. 25 No.5 – missing from this small tape – have been filled in using the above-mentioned vinyl pressing.
The last three minutes of the second movement from this source have been included as an appendix to this disc (14) in order to further demonstrate the extraordinary nature of Lipatti’s pianism. This is perhaps the finest example we have of his playing in high-fidelity sound, and is cause to further lament the loss of the original tape (as well as one man’s love of Wagner). From this excerpt we are able to recognize that Lipatti’s tone was even more crystalline and his phrasing more clearly etched than we might otherwise, as in the “glass bells” section referred to by critic Willi Schuh in his review of the concert (reproduced below).
The Concerto
While the sound quality of the entire performance (1-3) is not up to this standard, this new remastering of Dr. Gertsch’s tape reveals the interpretative genius behind Lipatti’s playing to a greater extent than any previous release of this recording. Improvements in the orchestral sound allow us to more than ever recognize the subtle and flexible accompaniment that Maestro Ackermann and the Zurich Tonhalle Orchestra provided at that moving concert.
It is hard to imagine the extent to which Lipatti was sick at this time, especially listening to the impassioned virtuosity of the first movement of the Concerto. Every note rings with remarkable clarity as he plays arpeggiated passages with astonishing fervour. He provides stark contrast between the lyrical and the dramatic, and his inclination to accent the offbeat (particularly apparent in the middle section of this movement) brings unparalleled momentum to the music. In the second movement, Lipatti’s metrical balance and singing tone emerge with precision and purity. The lilting, graceful elegance of the line and simplicity of its presentation are disarming, bringing more depth to the music than could any of the average pianist’s more common sentimental gestures. In the third movement too, Lipatti is a force to be reckoned with – two slips near the end are the only indication of the debilitating illness that kept him from the concert stage for so long, and his overall stamina (and accuracy, given his condition) is nothing short of remarkable.
Three solos
The three solo works of Chopin which Lipatti programmed after the intermission – they were not encores as has often been believed – receive glowing performances. The D-Flat Nocturne (4) is more expansive than the studio account of three years earlier, perhaps indicative of the added dimension that Lipatti’s suffering brought to his interpretative approach. Climaxes are more impassioned, phrases more amply conceived, the whole work more epic than the classic commercial recording. The Etudes are among the treasures of the Lipatti discography. The E Minor Etude (5) is a wonder of poise and equilibrium, the arpeggios of the middle section shimmering around a central line which resonates with ethereal calm. The Black Key Etude (6) receives a performance at once stunningly polished and musical, a testament to Lipatti’s standing among the most technically-proficient poets of the keyboard.
Studio performances
This disc also presents two solo performances Lipatti gave during an interview at Radio Geneve on July 27, 1950. The Chopin Waltz No. 3 in A Minor, Op.34 No.2 (7) and Bach-Busoni Chorale Prelude “Ich ruf’ zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ” (8) were recorded a mere two weeks after their commercial counterparts, and are somewhat deeper and more expansive interpretations. This may be indicative of the fact that Lipatti’s apparent remission from his illness after Cortisone treatment was coming to an end. In the interview (published in its entirety on Tahra TAH 367) he appears short of breath at times, and this more deliberate delivery extended into his playing. The Waltz has a deeper, more somber feeling, while the Chorale sings mournfully.
Early recordings
Other aspects of Lipatti’s art can be found in his earlier playing, and therefore some of his early test recordings have been included here, among them two previously unpublished items. The 1936 recording of Lipatti at the harpsichord is a most unusual document; the listener will no doubt be surprised to hear him racing through the Allemande of Bach’s B-flat Partita (9), a work which he recorded in his final commercial sessions some 16 years later. Despite a rather serious technical slip, the performance is musically secure (albeit far more grandiose than his later interpretations), and it is fascinating to hear his brief improvisation afterwards (10).
Of particular interest to the collector are the three Brahms Intermezzi (11-13), one of them released here for the first time (the two recordings previously issued on archiphon 112/3 have been newly remastered). There are regrettably some technical imperfections in the source material, as well as textual and tempo changes necessitated by the short duration of the test discs. In spite of these factors, the performances show Lipatti’s unusual affinity for the Brahms idiom through his singing tone, attention to inner voices and rhythms, highlighting of harmonic shifts, and the overall grandeur of his playing. (It is most unfortunate that his magical 1936 performance of the Intermezzo Op. 118 No.6 could not be obtained for issue. The damaged disc remains in Rumanian archives, and no complete tape copy exists.) Already at the ages of 19 and 24, Lipatti’s playing clearly demonstrated the spiritual maturity and musical cognizance that continue to earn him respect and recognition.
The quest continues
The search for unpublished recordings of Dinu Lipatti continues. It is known that a series of six 78-disc sides of Lipatti accompanying the cellist Antonio Janigro exists, including the first movement of Beethoven’s Third Cello Sonata. Rumours of a Waldstein Sonata continue to circulate: he made more than one broadcast of the work, and so it is far from inconceivable that a recording should exist. The Ravel G Major Concerto that he performed in Amsterdam has not yet been unearthed, despite the existence of the Bach D Minor Concerto that he played at the same concert. One hopes that the private collection of recordings known to have disappeared some years back may yet be rediscovered.
Priceless treasures
It is worth mentioning that the immense value of any unpublished Lipatti recordings cannot be translated into financial worth. It is possible that some collectors have continued to hold onto their prized possessions in the belief that they will one day be worth a fortune. The longer any recordings remain technically unrestored in private hands, the lower their commercial viability becomes. It is to be hoped that any such collectors will recognize that the value of these performances can only be measured by the effect that they can have on the musical public at large.
As we continue to anticipate that we will one day be able to relish more performances by Dinu Lipatti, let us not forget to fully appreciate the rich legacy of this consummate artist that already exists. More than half a century after he left us, the light of Dinu Lipatti’s musicianship continues to shine.
© Mark Ainley, 2001
