The Worst Beatle

Sofronitsky was the greatest pianist ever recorded. He was great not for holding a monopoly of pianistic gifts – in that regard we can say Horowitz or Richter, both monstrous technically and with the gift of understanding how and when to color a piece, would earn the title – but for a very specific reason. He was an artist among pianists -- to paraphrase Gilels, a God among men. His interpretations are unrivalled for the peculiar reason that they touch the listener more deeply—at the very least, this listener. In this regard he can be compared to Cortot, and yet he had none of the failings Cortot had. He was not a sloppy player. His style was masculine, stern, and yet achingly emotional. One could say he was an unsentimental romantic. He was as technically competent as any world-class pianist, and yet to listen to Sofronitsky for the speed and grace of his octaves would be ridiculous.

Here is how Sofronitsky himself described his own aspiration towards artistic genius:

But most crucial is to find the heart of each piece or each sonata movement, feel its basic essence, culmination, and then-the same in each construction, every phrase. I played badly before, only in recent years have I come to understand -- better and better -- how to play. And if I am alive in several years then I will really start to play. One has to learn to hear oneself and that is very difficult. This is not a posture -- I am speaking with absolute sincerity. First of all, a performance requires a will. A will -- meaning to want a lot, to want more than you have now, more than you can give. For me the entire effort is strengthening the will. Here is all: rhythm, sound, emotion. Rhythm should be soulful. The whole piece should live, breathe, move as protoplasm. I play-and one part is alive, full of breath, and another part nearby may be dead because the live rhythmic flow is broken. Rachmaninoff, for instance, could create a rhythmic pulse that was unfailingly alive. He had the enormous artistic will of a genius. He had a greater will than any of the modern pianists. The same with Anton Rubinstein. Bulow played very cleanly and Rubinstein sloppily, but two or three dirty notes would damage Bulow’s playing more than fistfuls of them would damage Rubinstein’s. And why? Because Rubinstein had an enormous will. A will for hearing, for rhythmic life. And another point, most important: the more emotionally you play, the better, but this emotionality should be hidden, hidden as in a shell. When I come on stage now, I have “seven shells” under my tuxedo, and despite this I feel naked. So, I need fourteen shells. I have to wish to play so well, live so fully, as to die and still feel as if I have not played. I have nothing to do with this. Some special calm should prevail when you rise from the piano-as if somebody else had played.

Sofronitsky is best known for his interpretations of Scriabin, but I equally like his Rachmaninoff, Schubert, Schumann, Liszt, and others. Unfortunately, not many recordings of Sofronitsky have survived Soviet Russia, and many that have survived are bootlegs. Some of the recordings are performed on horrendously out-of-tune pianos. Fans of Richter should be familiar with this dilemma. Still, although the quality is mixed to poor, and Sofronitsky himself referred to his recorded material as “my corpses”, the quality of his playing does shine through. He was regarded in his lifetime as an uneven player, prone to mood swings that could elevate or hollow his playing. It would be untrue to say that all of his recorded material is outstanding, but much of it is, and for that he deserves the highest of praise.

Scriabin - Fantasie In B Minor, Op.28

Scriabin - Sonata No. 3, 3rd Movement

Scriabin – Etude, op. 08 No. 08

Rachmaninoff - Prelude in D major, Op. 23, No. 4

Liszt - Sonata in B-minor

Schumann - Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp Minor, Op.11, 1st Movement