Artur Schnabel, the adventurer piano

Artur Schnabel (1882-1951) remains mostly remembered for being the first to burn a complete Beethoven sonatas in the 1920s but he was also a great interpreter of Brahms, he played his Second Concerto with the biggest leaders of the day: Arthur Nikisch, Hans Richter, Wilhelm Furtwängler ...

We hear it here accompanied by Sir Adrian Boult and the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 1935.

Three quarters of a century later, the approach seems still as lively and bold, not to say foolhardy.

The allegro non troppo for the ride: note attacks are constantly renewed; not a phrasing that is identical to the previous.

We rarely have seen, heard, felt such thing in this exotic trip, exotic, surprising each measure.

At the expense of construction and architecture, appassionato plunges without primer in the vibratory phenomenon of Brownian motion that equates speech to the unpredictable turpitude of a fluid.

Although the paths are perfectly drawn, they remain subject to a hazard that drives an organic life. The measuring what inspiration, what listening are mutually required of the keyboard and English musicians.

The andante is not doze in which would require a pilgrim rest: he roams the stars of a moonless night.

The final takes up the baton as conductor and pianist choose to take the short cuts. This excursion is not a graceful walkover: hands looking effort and prefer face escarpments that be satisfied with marked trails.

At first glance, the appearance and perky untied the "child scenes" of Schumann, recorded in 1947, seems to reveal the same enthusiasm, if not naive.

Hay anecdote and narration, microcosms are discussed such an unbroken fantasy: some dynamic variations, the game is poured and fluid (even in "colin buff" and the "wooden horse" without rubato).

The grace and nuance are displayed in delicate shades of halftones "almost too serious" and "the child falls asleep" are haloed by the sfumato of the pedal that releases a truly magical fantasy.

But candor gradually gives way to curiosity, a vague uneasiness.

"Scare" is euphemistic, internalized, venturing into the unexplored areas of consciousness, while refusing artifice and deception.

Under the fingers interrogators Schnabel, this introversion pushed to this degree of sincerity is confusing: when finally "the poet speaks" it seems doubtful to have seen clear in itself.