DECCA'S 8 CD reissue 'The Philips Legace' is a reminder and a remembrance of Raphael Orozko, a superbly gifted pianist and, until now, too little recalled. His tragically early death at the age of 50 robbed the world of a pianist blessed with a cornucopia of talents backed by an unswerving sense of discipline and musical integrity. And, although closely associated with the music of his native Spain(how can I forget the electrical discharge of his performance of Fete Dieu Corpus Christi en Sevilla from Albeniz 'Iberia at the 1966 Leeds International Piano Competition, a performance which surely sealed his first prize) his repertoire was extensive, if biased towards the Romantics where his formidable command allowed him full reign. The triumph at Leeds was not, however, without controversy. Both Hans Keller( a brilliant if eccentric musical voice) and William Glock protested that if Orozko was a stunning pianist, the finer musician was Russian Victoria Postnikova, who shared second place with fellow-Russian Semyon Kruchin, and who had touched both her jurors and audience with an exceptionally poetic performance of Schubert's G flat Impromptu. For them it was a victory of fire- and- brimstone over deeper qualities.
Yet wherever you turn(well, almost wherever in this invaluable reissue) you hear playing far removed from type-casting, confirming a present glory that would surely have continued in an enriching of natural gifts.
Starting with Chopin, invariably at the heart of romantically inclined virtuosi, Orozko's way with the Four Scherzi shows him in his prime, their extrovert, outsize concert hall brio providing an ideal outlet for a pianist of a fiery and dramatic temperament. Such feverishness and formidable articulacy in No 1 in B minor (for Anton Rubinstein, 'The Devil's Banquet'), a notably violent example of Chopin's audacity! There is a born feel for the dissonance underlying the Second Scherzo's sinister opening question(for Chopin 'it must be like a charnel house'), yet there is eloquence as well as verve, and in the Fourth Scherzo-- that surprise twist from minor to major, from storms to sunlight-- there is a wondrous fluidity and never a hint of the strain in Chopin's outwardly genial manner; his writing is often at its most treacherous when apparently most light-hearted. And if, as Jorge Bolet noted in his diatribe against the competition circuit, technically gifted young pianists are frequently non-plussed when confronted by more confidential and intimate demands, this is hardly the case with Orozko. What a pianist, and ultimately, what an artist in the sumptuous poetry of the E major Nocturne, opus 62 No 2, and even more so in the Berceuse, that ultimate test of poise and finesse in a 'silvery rain of fire!'
There is ample glitter in Chopin's early show pieces, in the Second Concerto and the Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise Brillante(played here with the largely superfluous orchestral part) composed by the composer to stun and bemuse his audiences in Vienna left astonished by such a novel pianistic prowess and artistry. These were already leagues ahead in their range and poetry from, for example, Hummel, once unkindly described as a composer of chandelier music. Yet it is in the Second Sonata that Orozko finds his greatest form, in his instinct for Chopin at his most daring and turbulent ; the climax of the first movement development a roaring tumult of defiance, rhythmically taunt and demonic in the Scherzo( Chopin's 'Mephisto Scherzo?'), ideally measured in the Funeral March, dark and unsettling if, like so many others, hardly 'sotto voce' in the macabre finale.
In the Liszt Sonata, once considered as incomprehensible as it was unplayable until it was so formidably taken in hand by Vladimir Horowitz, Orozko's taut lines and uncompromising seriousness place his performance high in the pantheon of great recordings(Horowitz in 1932, Gilels, Richter, Argerich etc). He rivets your attention in every seething dramatic note and phrase.
Turning to the Rachmaninov Concertos and the 'Paganini' Rhapsody, where Orozko is partnered by Edo de Waart, alert to his soloist's hyper tension, there is once again a fierce overall command, though one performance stands out among the others. In the First Concerto you feel the pianist must have felt prepared to the hilt, both physically and emotionally, and the result is surely among the finest on record, even when compared to Richter's legendary, if radically different, more temperate recording. Orozko's entirely personal engagement blazes with poetic commitment and a truly daunting virtuosity. The opening octave flourish, with its memory and elaboration of the openings to both the Grieg and Schumann Concertos, has a no- holds- barred strength and nervous aplomb, only rivalled in trenchancy by Earl Wild's shot-from -guns bravura. Here and elsewhere he sets the keyboard ablaze, and if Horowitz never fulfilled his promise to play this Concerto, Orozko comes as a suitable and awe-inspiring alternative.
I would not place the performances of the other three Concertos and the 'Paganini Rhapsody' at quite this level. The Fourth Concerto, once considered the ugly duckling of the set, but today frequently performed and even the favourite of several pianists, sounds as if recently learned. The temperature is lower than in the First Concerto, and in the Second there is a relentless, driven quality lacking in lyricism. In the Third(which even Rachmaninov, great pianist that he was, found difficult; he claimed he wrote it for elephants) I, again, missed a complementary lyricism beneath the blistering assault. Here Orozko is in full battle- cry, happy to blaze fortissimo too much of the time rather than allowing for a wider, fuller dynamic spectrum. I missed Gilel's greater warmth and magisterial command(his early recording with Clytens) and also, that unforgettable Moscow performance at the 1958 Tchaikovsky Competition by Van Cliburn, one that caught his jurors off their guard, astonished by his rhapsody and freedom, his born feeling for Rachmaninov. From Orozko there is the feeling of a pianist beating his audience into submission while, admittedly. ensuring that he will have them on their feet, roaring their approval. He chooses the grander of the two cadenzas at a time when it was rarely performed and makes two cuts, the first small enough to make you wonder why it was made.
A whole disc devoted to Rachmaninov's solo works comes as an enthralling complement to the Concertos. And here I would single out the C sharp minor Prelude, opus 3 No 2 where Orozko's strength and dignity make you forget its fate as plagiarized and distorted fodder for Hollywood.. He is heart-warming in Melodie, opus 3 No 3 where, perhaps surprisingly, he plays the early rather than later 1930 version, where Rachmaninov sprinkles star- dust, so to speak, over the relatively restrained original, and adds a sense of occasion to 'Polichinelle', one of Rachmaninov's few weak works. Yet once more he comes into his own in three Etudes-tableaux, most notably in the dizzying reel of opus 33 No 6 in E flat minor. He is characteristically less ardent, less heart-on- sleeve than Vam Cliburn in opus 39 No 5, also in E flat minor, and ends on a sombre note with the Moment Musical in B minor, distancing himself from its darkness.
If there is disappointment it comes in Schumann, in the :Kreisleriana' and 'Fantasie where Orozko would surely have gone on to achieve greater inwardness over the years. Here he is too much the impetuous virtuoso, impatient with reflection, with the 'Eusebius' rather than the 'Florestan' of Schumann's nature. Put simply, he is more attuned to Schumann's 'molto agitato' than to his 'sehr langsam.' There is a greater sense of rapture in the finale of the Fantasie, music once described as like so 'shifting sunset vapour.' Competition in both such quintessentially romantic works is intense, and Orozko cannot compete with Horwitz(his Sony recording), Geza Anda, Argerich or Lupu in the Kreisleriana, Mosieiwitsch, Pollini, Perahia and Argerich, again, in the Fantasie.
So let me end positively with a celebration of a Tchaikovsky First Concerto opening grandly 'maestoso' and and with an elfin sense of 'con spirito' as the Concerto proper takes wing, The split chordal ascent at the first movement's climax spits fire and the play of octaves will satisfy even most ardent virtuoso fancier. There is a 'scherzo of fire-flies' in the Andantio's central 'Prestissimo and if Orozko can thunder, he can also coax, his virtuosity complemented by musical quality.
Finally, my gratitude to Decca for this release, made 28 years after Orozko's death. His glory in Rachmaninov's First Concerto and in so much else of a scarcely lesser stature makes you aware once more of his presence and calibre. He is remembered with awe and affection.
Bryce Morrison