This 'po�me de l'extase is something else altogether... this develops into a thrillingly intense, even intimidating experience. Subtle refinement is scarcely on the agenda, yet the sheer theatrical fervour of this account is hard to resist, and those malignant sneers from muted USSR SO trombones at 8:27 onwards have to heard to be believed (was this particular passage ever more evil-sounding than here?). What a pity the applause was edited out-I was on my feet long before the end! (Gramophone)

Nobody could call Scriabin a fussy man. All he asks of a pianist who would traverse his early sonatas is that he manage to be as sounding brass (Sonata No. 1), to walk on water (No. 2), to burn and be not consumed (No. 3), to fly (No. 4), and to dematerialize (No. 5). In that order. Oh yes, and stretch a twelfth.

Boris Berman, of Yale University by way of Moscow and Tel Aviv, is ready for this or any decathalon. Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him play. I must say his performances of the First and Second Sonatas were revelations to me. These are the sonatas one only encounters in integral recordings, and the other complete Scriabins I've heard (Szidon, Ponti) have not been satisfactory. In Berman's hands the first movement of the First, composed by a twenty-year-old just out of the Conservatory, is one of the great Scriabin experiences. It may be as yet conventional in form and only vaguely suggestive in its harmony of the composer's mature idiom. But it already has his inimitable rhythmic fluidity (yes, literally inimitable; God knows Stravinsky and Prokofiev tried) and his unique command of three- and four-handed pianistic textures. Berman sprouts as many hands as are required, and he has an ability to phrase in long periods—plus the pedal technique to support it—that keeps the music airborne despite its sequential construction. He also has his teacher Lev Oborin's famous way with inner voices; how many pianists could bring out the tenor in the chorale section of the funeral-march finale within an overall marking, scrupulously observed, of pppp?

When, beginning with Sonata No. 3, Berman hits the big-time competition, he more than holds his own. He knows the idiom to the extent that his eighth-note triplets are regularly distended, as Scriabin played them, with a hesitation on the second note and a correspondingly shorter third. His tempos are brisk and flexible, his touch remarkably like Scriabin's own, to the extent that we may judge it from the composer's Vorsetzer rolls and from verbal descriptions (e.g., that of Alexander Pasternak, the poet's brother: “I . . . had the impression that his fingers were producing the sound without touching the keys; his enemies liked to say it was not real piano playing, but a twittering of birds or a mewing of kittens“). This mercurial lightness is really indispensable in the Fourth Sonata, not only in the Prestissimo volando, but also toward the end of the Andante, where the right hand must caress a steady stream of high repeated chords while the left hand sings the tune. You will indeed have the impression that Berman's fingers are not touching the keys. When that main theme of the Andante comes back riding the crest of the Prestissimo in what James Baker (in truly excellent program notes) calls the first of Scriabin's many thematic apotheoses, Berman's effortless tone production is suitably glorious.

In fact, nowhere in this set is there the slightest sense of sweat or strain, even in the Fifth Sonata, so full of explicitly erotic gestures. (Yes, Scriabin appeals to forces mystérieuses, but we know very well what they are.) It's a very playful, aristocratic sort of ecstasy Scriabin summons up, the kind reflected in the Kama Sutra, far, oh very far from 42nd Street. Berman has the cosmic skittishness it takes to make what is often such a heavy harangue a tickly, spritzy delight. Porno-phony, perhaps, but definitely soft-core.

Volume 2, expected shortly, will require the pianist to cast spells, be like the sun, worship the devil, and ultimately become an insect. Can't wait.

-- Richard Taruskin, FANFARE [5/1990]

When the first volume of sonatas turned up (Music and Arts CD-605, Fanfare 13:5), Richard Taruskin wrote of Berman that, “Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him. ...“ Indeed, in the complete traversal sweeps—Ponti, Laredo, Taub—Berman's most consistent competition comes from Ashkenazy (London 425 579-2, two silver discs), who, needless to say, shares Berman's distinctions. In fact, heard after other pianists, Berman and Ashkenazy seem remarkably at one in their view of Scriabin and in their effortless projection of it—even their timings are often identical ! Within this basic similarity, however, one may say that Berman favors a voluptuously febrile approach, couched in veiled, bass-rich, pedal-held sound (abetted by a lushly resonant acoustic), while Ashkenazy opts for an almost crystalline (though seldom dry) clarity, crisper articulation, and brighter color. In the later sonatas, with their incantatory repetitions flaring into great washes of sonority, Ashkenazy's larger, more pointed climaxes bring these hallucinatory soundscapes into sharper focus, though Berman s accarezzevole touch and cumulative power awaken the music's daimonic eroticism with an hypnotic sureness scanted in Ashkenazy's patrician brilliance.

Both are high-voltage players, though neither quite matches Horowitz for sheer nervous energy, sinister intimations, trembling-on-the-verge spellbinding, eruptive grandeur, or overall éclat— though we are close: if Horowitz overwhelms, Ashkenazy compels, while Berman seduces. It is only fair to add that Ashkenazy recorded his cycle over a period of years, going back to 1975, where Berman committed his to the microphone in a matter of days—a staggering achievement. As noted, Music and Arts's aural perspective, while immediate and detailed, favors the bass. James E. Baker's extensive notes are a decided bonus, though his placement of Scriabin in the cultural history of his time and place will probably amount to obscurum per obscurius for most readers, to whom the likes of Solovyov, Balmont, lvanov, Baltrushaitis, Gippius, et al., are unlikely to be even superficially as familiar as the also named Nietzsche, Rudolf Steiner, and Madame Blavatsky. Hearing the sonatas together is one of music's great adventures, and Berman, aside from being an astounding pianist, is also gifted with that touch of the psychopomp which enables him to convey us unerringly to the heart of Scriabin's mystery. Enthusiastically recommended.

-- Adrian Corleonis, FANFARE [9/1991]

The progression of Scriabin’s work as embodied in his ten piano sonatas chronicle the development and unfolding of a unique voice which to this day sings unlike any other in musical history. Garrick Ohlsson offers titanic readings of these ever-fascinating works. Since his triumph as winner of the 1970 Chopin International Piano Competition, Garrick Ohlsson has established himself worldwide as a musician of magisterial interpretive and technical prowess. Garrick Ohlsson commands an enormous repertoire, and this "Complete Scriabin Sonatas" joins his "Complete Beethoven Sonatas" and "Complete Scriabin Etudes" on the BRIDGE label.

Immerse yourself in the enigmatic beauty of Alexander Scriabin's complete piano sonatas, masterfully interpreted by the renowned pianist Yunjie Chen. This new album offers a profound journey through the introspective and mysterious soundscapes that have captivated audiences for over a century. Scriabin's sonatas, often described as "mysterious and lovely," provide an unparalleled canvas for personal and intimate expression. Yunjie Chen’s nuanced performance brings these unique pieces to life, allowing listeners to explore the deep emotional currents and the profound philosophical questions inherent in the music. Yunjie Chen’s deep connection with Scriabin's works is evident in every note, and his ability to convey the complex textures and ethereal beauty of the sonatas is extraordinary. Each performance is an invitation to a world where music transcends the ordinary, embodying Scriabin’s mystical and theosophical visions. This album is not just a collection of sonatas; it is a transformative experience. Yunjie Chen's thoughtful interpretations highlight the technical brilliance and emotional depth of Scriabin’s compositions, offering a fresh perspective on these rarely performed masterpieces.

REVIEW:

These are technically impressive interpretations of cool austerity, with a phenomenal command of dynamics and color values. In the Sonata No. 10, Chen realizes the Très doux et pur in a fascinating and exciting way that outdoes a number of interpretations by some very important pianists. This production is definitely one of the most important complete recordings of the Scriabin sonatas.

— Pizzicato

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Scriabin: Piano Works

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This new recording contains a selection of piano works by Alexandre Scriabin, the Russian Romantic/mystic, from the different stages of his creative life: from the Chopin-inspired early Etudes and monumental Fantasy Op. 28 to the 7th(“White Mass”) and 10th Piano Sonata, expressions of Scriabin’s philosophical ideas, dealing with his personal demons and quest for cosmic illumination. Serbian pianist Misha Dacic has a special affinity to Scriabin, “he knows how to make the piano sound not like a piano” (as Nikolai Sverev said about the young Scriabin). Dacic’ previous Liszt recording for Piano Classics (PCL0048) received glowing reviews: “What a Liszt player!, a formidable Lisztian reputation is completely born out of the stunning virtuosity and passionate, fearless embrace of the composer’s idiom, (performance-10 Classicstoday.com), “Startling temperamental force and mastery” (Bryce Morrison in Gramophone). Misha Dacic is a regular guest at the prestigious Miami Piano Festival. He studied with Lazar Berman, and participated in the Progetto Martha Argerich in Lugano. Misha Dacic holds his present posts as piano professor at Mersin State Conservatory in Turkey, and at the University of Arts in Niš, Serbia.

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This is a hybrid Super Audio CD, playable on both Super Audio and standard Stereo CD players.

The Scriabin centenary got off to a good start with Garrick Ohlsson’s top-notch traversal of the Poèmes. No doubt there will be many more tributes to this complex and enigmatic composer, including well-priced compendia such as the 18-CD Scriabin Edition from Decca Universal. Buried in that box, which boasts 64 newly recorded items, are Vladimir Ashkenazy’s recordings of Symphonies 1 and 3, Eliahu Inbal’s No. 2 and Valery Gergiev’s Poème de l’extase. Rob Barnett welcomed the Ashkenazy set, recorded in the 1990s, adding that it would suit those who find Scriabin ‘consistently hysterical’. Not that I ever do, but I can understand why others might think differently.

Mikhail Pletnev’s new Pentatone recording of Symphony No. 1 and the Poème de l’extase also has to compete with Riccardo Muti’s celebrated Philadelphia set for Warner (review) and Leif Segerstam’s, with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, for BIS (review). In his favour Pletnev has at his fingertips the Russian National Orchestra, which he founded in 1990. These splendid players are in peak form, having just recorded a revelatory account of Shostakovich’s Leningrad with Paavo Järvi. That recording and this one also benefit from Polyhymnia’s impressive engineering skills.

Scriabin: Symphony No. 1; The Poem of Ecstasy / Pletnev on Pentatone:

Scriabin’s First Symphony, in six movements with a vocal finale in praise of the supremacy of Art, is a remarkably sensual piece that really does demand dedicated interpreters. There’s no doubt that Muti – not always the most subtle of conductors – is one of them; he’s blessed with the legendary Philadelphia sound – Ormandy stepped down in 1980, just a few years before these recordings were made – not to mention a full-bodied recording. Listening to Segerstam after that is instructive, for while there is much detail to be found in his Scriabin performances there’s not much of the hypnotic, sense-stroking beauty that I associate with these pieces. As a result, I must exclude his set from my list of comparisons.

In Pletnev’s hands the opening bars of the first Lento waft into one’s consciousness as if borne on a gentle, perfumed zephyr. It’s clear this is going to be a finely calibrated and highly poetic performance; also, the music has a certain, seamless flow, and the micrometer-like precision of the orchestral playing is just right for this score. Goodness, what stupendous playing and exemplary sonics. Indeed, Muti’s performance seems almost garish by comparison, his recording almost crude.

Make no mistake, Pletnev’s reading is not a self-indulgent wallow, as his sharply characterised Allegro dramatico so amply demonstrates. Once again the level of detail that emerges from this recording is extraordinary, as is the range and sophistication of Scriabin’s colour palette. Such is Pletnev’s authoritative/intuitive way with this music that I don’t hear any of the longueurs that often plague the piece. And lest one think this symphony is all about flutters and fibrillations, there’s thrilling weight and amplitude as well. Moreover, Pletnev integrates these elements rather more effectively than Muti, who's rather impulsive at times...

No one, and I mean no one, delivers the second Lento more beautifully than Pletnev and the RNO. Together they create an air of delicious intoxication that seduced me from the start; indeed, it’s as if they’ve unlatched and unleashed all one’s dormant senses. From the music’s languid caresses to its precipitous teasings, this is the most erotically charged performance of the piece I can recall. No wonder the literary satyr Henry Miller extolled Scriabin’s oeuvre. The Vivace, played here with unparalleled delicacy and point, is a reminder of Scriabin’s - and Pletnev's - attention to even the smallest of details. Not even Muti comes close to such levels of excavation and insight.

Pletnev’s grasp of the work’s architecture is beyond doubt – there are no weak spots, even in the sometimes rhetoric-prone Allegro – and his soloists in the finale are much better than Muti’s. Soprano Svetlana Shilova is creamy and secure, and tenor Mikhail Gubsky adds ringing ardour to the mix. The Pentatone balance is preferable too, so we get warm, very communicative soloists rather than bright, somewhat excitable ones. The chorus sing with unalloyed passion and purpose while, unerring as always, Pletnev guides the work to its all-consuming close. The moment of release, when it comes, is almost indescribable in its intensity and impact.

Heavens, what an experience. In fact I’m certain you won’t hear a more powerful or persuasive account of this piece any time soon. As so often with ‘difficult’ composers – mavericks such as Havergal Brian and Rued Langgaard spring to mind – it takes a proselytizing zeal to unlock these seemingly abstruse scores. It’s a measure of Pletnev’s skill that Scriabin’s First Symphony is finally revealed for the masterpiece it is. One mustn’t forget the contributing talents of the Polyhymnia team, especially those of producer, balance engineer and editor Erdo Groot. His name may be incorrect at one point in the credits, but otherwise there's not a single blemish in this splendid recording.

After all that unbridled passion one might be tempted to recover in a darkened room before tackling Scriabin’s so-called ‘Symphony No. 4’, the Poème de l’extase. With the composer’s talk of mystic chords and the Cosmos/Spirit, newcomers to the work might expect a grand musical séance; nothing could be further from the truth, for this is a robust and clear-eyed score laced with moments of colossal grandeur. Muti certainly plays it that way, and Warner’s ultra-vivid recording really stokes up the fires. As before the Philadelphians respond to the music with great enthusiasm and energy.

That’s not the only way to play the Poème, as Pletnev proceeds to demonstrate. The discreet harp figures and gold-threaded trumpet at the start point to a refined, highly nuanced reading. So it proves, for whereas Muti succumbs to the big gestures, Pletnev exercises a degree of control that builds tension rather than releases it too soon. Also, there’s a greater sense of the mystic and mysterious in the Pentatone performance; even the trumpet rises from the mix in a most atmospheric way. Muti’s percussionists are suitably thunderous – Pletnev’s are much better defined though, the bass drum especially – and there are times when Muti's Poème sounds more like Respighi’s Roman carnivals than a contemplation of loftier things.

Interestingly, Pletnev’s Scriabin was recorded in a studio, so the organ of St Ludwig-Kirche has been spliced in. It too makes a mighty noise, along with all those pealing bells. Once again the recording pushes the envelope, with overwhelming results. I imagine this would be even more immersive in its multi-channel form.

I hope this is just the start of a Scriabin series from Pletnev and the RNO, for we desperately need strong, redefining accounts of these underrated works. It goes without saying that Pentatone/Polyhymnia are the right team for such a project. Will I be ditching Muti any time soon? Not just yet, but if Pletnev does give us a new cycle it will surely sweep the board.

Incandescent Scriabin, superbly recorded; Muti has met his match at last.

- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

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Russia produced three renowned composer-pianists at the end of the nineteenth century: Medtner, Rachmaninov, and his fellow student at the Moscow Conservatoire, Alexander Scriabin, a unique figure in Russian music as he seemed to follow a musical path all his own, completely different to that of either of his contemporaries. He created an original, exotic soundworld which progressed from Chopinesque romanticism in the First Sonata to a world of fantasy, inhabited by uncompromising, audacious dissonances in the later Sonatas which make overwhelming demands on any performer who dares to tackle them. In his third Sonata Scriabin provided descriptions of the four movements under the heading ‘States of the Soul’. In the Fourth he experimented with Wagner’s Tristan harmonies. By the Sixth Sonata Scriabin’s harmonic tonality had completely broken down and dissipated – “frightening...dark and mysterious, impure, dangerous” as he himself wrote. The Seventh Sonata (White Mass) instructs the performer to play ‘with a heavenly voluptuousness’, ‘with a dark majesty’... Through the music he wanted to express an ecstatic disorder creating a trance-like effect on performer and audience. The Ninth (Black Mass) represents the Satanic but the Tenth has an opening marked ‘very sweetly and pure’. He said of this, ‘My Tenth Sonata is a sonata of insects. Insects are born from the sun, they are the kisses of the sun.’ These works are performed by legendary pianist Peter Donahoe.

Based in Germany but native to India, Pervez Mody is a virtuoso concert pianist who has been noted for his multifaceted, colorful musicianship that features absorbing passion and powerful expression. +For many years, Pervez Mody has studied the piano repertoire of Alexander Scriabin very intensively and his interpretations have earned praise from experts and concert audiences alike. +"Pervez Mody, an exceptional musician and a unique artist...has a deep connection with Scriabin. - Martha Argerich