BBC MUSIC MAGAZINE:
This is a valuable reissue of a CD Peter Katin made a little over ten years ago. He plays a Clementi square piano of around 1832, and the intimacy of the recording, made in his own studio, provides a fairly accurate idea of what the pianist of that time must have heard in his or her drawing room. The delicate sound of the instrument is a decided asset throughout, and it really come into its own in the quietly rippling arpeggios that run through the outer sections of the Fourth Impromptu from D.899.

In the opening piece, with its melancholy march-like theme, Katin very effectively treats the coda as a sort of nostalgic envoi, playing it at a slower tempo; and the warmth of this playing also stands him in good stead in the F minor Impromptu that begins D.935. In his booklet notes, Katin cites the famous B flat Impromptu as a piece he particularly admires, though he plays its variations in lingering and slightly piecemeal fashion. More disappointing is the last F minor Impromptu, which is definitely on the sedate side. This is more a question of character than tempo: Radu Lupu, for instance, is even slower, but he injects more drama into the music, and his version of the Impromptus is in any case so wonderfully engaging that it has to be a first choice. However, those wanting a period-piano performance will find a good deal to enjoy in Katin’s undemonstrative and unfailingly musical playing.
Performance **** Sound ****
Misha Donat

MUSICAL POINTERS:
Peter Katin's disc of Schubert Impromptus is generously and fairly discussed in two reviews on Music Web (set out below). The point is well made that evaluation might have been assisted if at least one of the pieces had been recorded also on a modern piano for comparison (at TT 64:21 there would have been plenty of space on the CD! q.v. our report of Edmund Battersby's two accounts of the Diabelli Variations on Naxos). And MW has two more reports on Katin's Chopin disc, all four of them well worth reading.

What is special about these Peter Katin recordings, produced by Joanna Leach, is that the pianist's own instruments and studio are used - fine small, domestic square pianos of limited compass and pretensions, ideal for home listening. They are comparable to those on which the music might have been played and listened to in the early 19 C., and again with the Schiedmayer and Steinway upright pianos on which through the mid- and late-20 C I had studied and enjoyed playing all that music in my own homes.

JOURNAL OF THE SCHUBERT INSTITUTE (UK):
Alfred Brendel has suggested that a modern piano is more effective for interpreting Schubert than an early one. In opting to record the two sets of Impromptus on a six-octave Clementi piano, Peter Katin clearly disagrees. In the booklet notes, he writes: ‘The change to the very different qualities of a square piano has made me aware of yet further possibilities in tonal colouring…. The results might belie the fact that the square pianos were not designed for large halls but for a rather more intimate atmosphere. This is why I decided to record the Impromptus in my own studio…’.

As good as his word, Katin provides quiet playing that is often carefully nuanced: the final pages of the C-minor and G flat Impromptus exemplifying his ability to differentiate between p, pp and ppp. Similarly, the balance between melody and accompaniment is often sensitively handled. Other effective quiet passages include melodies with a flowing accompaniment in the same hand (the G flat Impromptu and the first variation of the B flat Impromptu) and decorative virtuosity (the opening of the A flat-minor/major Impromptu, D899, and the fifth variation of the B flat Impromptu). The latter is a particularly striking example of Katin’s filigree touch, one which suggests string glissandi.

At the other end of the dynamic spectrum, however, the sound is often less convincing, the weak upper register of the square piano making it difficult to crescendo to reach a fortissimo. When a theme is repeated in octaves, such as in the B flat Impromptu, a cantabile sound is hard to sustain, and elsewhere the difference between f and ff is not always conveyed. While these shortcomings reflect the limitation of the instrument rather than the performer, the desire to approximate the intimate setting that might have been intended for the Impromptus seems to occasionally preclude moments of drama.

Little reservation, however, can be expressed over Katin’s command of the works’ structure, in particular the larger design of the second set of Impromptus. Tempos are well judged and some of the more personal interpretive decisions seem convincing. Katin’s decision to vary his dotted rhythm when accompanied by triplets, in particular, is governed by common sense: in the C-minor Impromptu and the third variation of the B flat Impromptu, the dotted rhythms are mostly played as a crotchet and quaver, and as a dotted quaver and semiquaver at cadences. Similarly, his arpeggiation of chords in the G flat Impromptu and variation of speed of arpeggiation according to the structural and expressive context shows sensitivity. For the high trills of the second and fifth variation of the B flat Impromptu, Katin prolongs to create a humorous effect, evoking an operatic prima donna revelling in the moment.

In the C-minor Impromptu and for part of the A flat-minor/major Impromptu from the earlier set, however, Katin’s sense of structure seems compromised by his variation of tempo. The opening section of the Impromptu in C minor contains arguably too much rubato and agogic hesitation to suggest an introduction rather than a true beginning. Only with the quicker and sustained tempo of the following A flat-major section does the piece seem to get under way; with later sections, however, the tempo again fluctuates. In the A flat-minor/major Impromptu, Katin uses rubato for the first and final appearance of the left-hand theme. Again the effect seems disruptive, impeding a sense of natural flow.

To reiterate, the most successful playing on this disc is found in the second set of Impromptus and in introspective passages throughout. Of particular success are the outer sections of the A flat Impromptu (D935/2) and the central A flat-minor/major section of the F-minor Impromptu (D935/1). The former is memorable for Katin’s ability to play simply, creating a naturalness of expression that never becomes dull; the latter shows that a weak upper register is not always a hindrance, as the high notes of the left-hand ‘duet’ evoke the sound of a dulcimer. Such a sound seems particularly apt in light of John Daverio’s comparison of the passage to a Proustian moments bienheureux, a recollection of a distant memory.(1)

Listening again to Murray Perahia’s recording of the C-minor Impromptu reminds one that tonal colouring and nuance is not only possible on an early instrument, and there are times in Katin’s interpretation when the power of a modern instrument is missed. But this is not often the case. With this recording on a piano close to those the composer might have used, Peter Katin provides some fresh perspective of familiar repertoire.

(1) J Daverio, Crossing Paths. Schubert, Schumann, and Brahms, (OUP 2003), pp.55-56.
Cameron Gardner

MUSICWEB:
The booklet contains an informative note by the restorer of this 1832 Clementi square piano, Andrew Lancaster. Peter Katin himself, as well as writing about the music, also discusses the fascination which playing the music on such an instrument holds for him, when throughout his career he has played it on the modern piano. "It is necessary to understand that here is a different and special sound-world, and the player has to understand that an equally valid interpretation is possible within that sound-world."

All the same, for much of this disc I couldn’t help wishing he had recorded just one of the sets, but twice over, once on this piano and once on a modern one. Otherwise, when in the G flat Impromptu the pervasive triplets are just that little bit too loud, almost clattery, the melodic line not quite standing out enough, when the repeated chords in the middle section of no.4 of D.899 are too heavily present and, again, the melodic line is not quite free over them, when the repeated-note second theme of D.935/1 sounds lumpy, lacking in the evanescent poetry it can have, the performer seemingly hardly daring to touch the keys, in the face of all this and much more, how can I know if this is what happens when you play Schubert on an 1832 Clementi square piano, or if it what happens when Peter Katin plays Schubert on any piano?

However, I found that the performance of the B flat Impromptu, the variations on the "Rosamunde" theme, explained most of my queries. It is evident already in the theme that the melody is now singing out over a murmuring accompaniment; better still the 16 th-notes in Variation 1 are not pervasive and clattery while the melodic line sings as it should. The potentially thick chords in Variation III are not clumpy as they were in D.899/4. Furthermore, Katin has the right Schubertian lilt all through the piece, he keeps a reasonably consistent tempo through all the variations (nobody expects the pianist to make no change of tempo, even if none is marked, but we often hear very disruptive changes and Katin seems to me just right in all the variations). This is a performance I will gladly hear again, not because it’s played on an 1832 Clementi square piano but because it’s played very beautifully.

So it would seem that the piano is capable of all the Schubertian poetry we would expect, but that, for some reason, Katin has decided to give it to us only in this one piece. For the rest, it is highly articulate, intelligent, observant (but must the first forte outburst in D.899/1 be so jabbingly staccato when Schubert hasn’t indicated anything at all over the notes?) and musical playing, but a bit dry, and the evidence seems to be that this is Katin’s doing not the piano’s.

We know what these old pianos were like, but we don’t know exactly how they were played; but I suppose performers ranged between good, bad and indifferent more or less as they do now. So, if the historical exercise appeals to you of hearing this music as it may have sounded four years after Schubert’s death on a typical domestic piano of a country in which Schubert never set foot (his own Viennese pianos were quite different), then here you are.
Christopher Howell

MUSICWEB (2) (on original Athene issue):
In this era of "authentic" performance the description fortepiano is used both widely and loosely. It is a well-intentioned term indicating that it is an early post-harpsichord but pre-modern instrument. Perhaps somewhere between Haydn and Chopin would be a good rule of thumb. The instrument used here however is a six-octave Square Piano of 1832 manufactured by Clementi who apart from composing and giving concerts had investments in the instrument-making company bearing his name. Since the works were composed not too many years before the manufacture of the instrument and square pianos were used extensively during this period, it seems an excellent choice and it certainly has a fullness of tone superior to instruments of the 1790s. It is interesting to note that Katin (who provides his own notes) explains that he sometimes had to re-think the phrasing that he had applied to Schubert's music when previously using a modern piano.

The Impromptus imply a grander scale and are therefore more demanding for the period piano [than the Klavierstücke]. In the event, the firm, clear but very light bass of the instrument does not pose a problem in itself because so many of these works are of a flowing nature. The very first work (D899 in C minor) does have slow, spaced chords at the start and here the bare acoustic does seem to hinder the progress. This apart, Katin has a penetrating sense of shape and form. Gentle rubato is applied but it never interrupts the musical current (the elegant liquid runs in the A flat minor D 899 remind me of the famous old Schnabel version).

The recorded sound is very close and not very resonant. Maybe this technique was chosen in order to clarify the tonal characteristics of an historic instrument but it reveals an occasional mid-range "ring" in the powerful passages. Another result of this immediacy of sound is that the dynamics seem a little limited - most noticeably in the grander Impromptus. At a soiree in a 19th Century drawing room, Schubert's music may well have sounded like this. This is authentic music-making and stylish pianism but the bloom of a concert hall acoustic would have been welcome.
Antony Hodgson