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Re: Andrew Rangell



Here are some reviews that I just picked up on the web of Rangell's work.  The negative ones are way off base and I doubt the reviewer even listened to the disc!  Seriously.  The negative ones remind me of things people said of Gould.  I was surprised to see such a consensus of thumbs-down.  Oh well, our hero was no stranger to the negative review either, was he?  Give these discs a chance if you think you'd be interested in them at all.
 
Jim
 
 

BACH: Partitas, all

Andrew Rangell, p--Dorian 93242 [2CD] 139 min

This is an odd release, not without interest. Gould's specter hovers nearby: Rangell's articulation resembles the Canadian's famous detached style. He even repeats Gould's trick of transposing the second Minuet in Partita 1 up an octave for the repeat. But certainly he's not just a carbon copy. The phrasing shows more variety, the tempo more rubato. And his interpretive vision certainly doesn't lack for originality. But this isn't my favorite Bach: Rangell lacks a real singing quality--in spite of the tonal variety of his playing--because he too often concentrates on the smallest rhythmic values and loses sight of larger architecture as a result.

That said, the performances themselves have sufficient interest that, while I don't agree with them, I also won't dismiss them out of hand. In fact he often varies the surface of the music, working against the one-tempo, one-affect view of baroque music--which often chokes the life out of it. The Passepied from Partita 5 swings in a very compelling way, with all sorts of internal accents and hesitations. He also plays the closing section of Partita 4's Ouverture liltingly, with lots of contrapuntal clarity thrown in for good measure. In Partita 3, many similar unexpected shadings and surprises make the Fantasia particularly memorable. Likewise, the healthy measure of eccentricity in the Burlesca gives me nice insight into that exceedingly odd movement.

Variety, though, sometimes leads to counterproductive results: two examples, the Corrente and Gigue from Partita 3, sound a little too capricious--they have drive but somehow lack overall purpose. I prefer harpsichord performances of the same movements by Kirkpatrick on Boston Skyline (Nov/Dec 1995) and Rousset on Oiseau Lyre (Sept/Oct 1994).

I'm all for performances that depart from the letter of baroque performance practice, so long as they do so with musical interest and taste. Unfortunately, some movements simply sound wrong. The hard-bitten and cheeky Sarabande from Partita 3 annoys no end. So does the antiseptic, precious Toccata from Partita 6. In such cases Rangell gives the impression that he willfully ignores what we know of baroque performance practice to serve his own ends and not the music's.

 

Rob Haskins
 

Andrew Rangell, piano

SWEELINCK: Mein Junges Leben Variations; BACH: Minuet; Sheep May Safely Graze; ENESCO: Carillon Nocturne; MESSIAEN: Les Sons Impalpables du Reve; MOZART: Rondo, K 511; FROBERGER: Ricercare (1654); BEETHOVEN: Bagatelles, op 126; Fugae--Dorian 80147 (Allegro) 70:37

Not all the eclectic group of selections on this disc seem to conform to its title, "A Recital of Intimate Works", but they are given a semblance of unity by the American pianist Andrew Rangell (b 1948), who plays them all--regardless of period, idiom, or expressive nature--in the same quiet, ruminative, and exceedingly mannered style. Rangell seems to abhor regularity of tempo, even in a formal 17th-Century work like Sweelinck's Variations, and this turns Mozart's great and tragic Rondo K 511 into spineless bathos. Everything in Beethoven's tightly-knit Op. 126 Bagatelles is played either too fast or too slow, becoming incoherent in the process; and the fugue transcribed from his Op. 131 Quartet is a muddle. What in principle looked like an imaginative idea is fatally flawed by Rangell's execution.

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By MORIN

 
 
 

BEETHOVEN: Diabelli Variations

RAVEL: Gaspard de la Nuit

Andrew Rangell, p--Dorian 93176 (Allegro) 69 min

This is one of the strangest couplings I have encountered. Both are seminal works by their composers and stand among the most challenging in the keyboard repertoire. At that point comparisons end. Yet given Andrew Rangell's reputation as free-thinking individualist, this quirky combination shouldn't come as a surprise. The recordings aren't of recent provenance; both are from concert performances. The Beethoven was taped at a New York recital in April 1977 (when Rangell was only 29). The Ravel was recorded in concert in Ipswich, Massachusetts in July 1985.

What is striking the moment Diabelli's trifling little waltz begins its grand transfigurative journey, is the pianist's commanding presence. He knows that he is about to take his audience on a profound journey. That this guided tour through Beethoven's thorny thicket is offered so early in a musical career gives much food for thought. That he has thoroughly probed this difficult score and renders a stunning reading offers just cause for amazement. This is a powerful act of re-creation, often terrifying in its intensity--a reading filled with sharp contours and contrasts. It is an audacious account comparable to Yudina's stark vision (Philips). I like this kind of pianism, where music lives and breathes and leaves the listener exhausted.

Rangell's riveting performance of Ravel's fantastic Gaspard de la Nuit forces you to listen to everything that is going on in this daunting and complex score. In his notes the pianist writes concerning Ondine, the water nymph abandoned by her mortal lover (one of the three pieces): "Ravel's intricate and ever-changing figuration delineates in a moonlit atmosphere the shimmering, splashing, showering and surging of her watery domain, while sustaining her plaintive and seductive song". I have rarely heard a performance where the shifting figuration is so clearly, yet subtly, reproduced. The dark-hued 'Gibet', depicting a body hanging from the gallows (an eerie nighttime scene), casts a ghostly shadow. The almost Scriabinesque 'Scarbo' leaps from the keyboard with terrifying ferocity. A masterly account.

The recording is quite vivid from both venues, though the piano is rather thin-toned in the Ravel (perhaps an inferior instrument?). The bronchial New York audience is very much in evidence. The Massachusetts crowd is quieter. There is applause after the Beethoven, none after the Ravel. A fascinating issue.

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By .-Allen Linkowski

 

INTIMATE SONGS


Gibbons, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Brahms, others--Andrew Rangell, p Dorian 93194 (Allegro) 70 minutes

I might as well admit at the outset that I don't much care for recitals like this--a series of slow and dreamy pieces calculated to put me in a "romantic" or (worse still) "intimate" mood. I don't want to hear Brahms's B-minor Intermezzo followed by Schubert's Allegretto in C minor, followed by Scriabin's Poem-Nocturne, followed by another Chopin nocturne, another Brahms intermezzo, and so on ad nauseam. After a while, I start feeling like I have devoured five or six tubes of cotton candy in a row.

The only slight bit of relief is supplied by Beethoven's Bagatelles, Op. 119--a very odd change of pace. What are they doing in this carefully prepared and (otherwise) grimly sustained context of enforced "intimacy"?

Mr Rangell plays nicely, and his piano has a rich tone with a pleasingly luxuriant bass. But that is not enough to rescue this recital from the boredom of unrelieved sameness. This release belongs in the same bin with Music by Candlelight, Melodies for Lovers, and An Entire Hour of Beautiful Classical Music.

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By John Beversluis