The pianist Artur Schnabel once referred to EMI’s famous Abbey Road Studios as a torture chamber. His student Clifford Curzon was similarly skeptical about the recording process. A perfectionist who was convinced that no single performance could capture the essence of a great musical work, he was notoriously reluctant to release recordings. On those rare occasions where he could be persuaded to commit his rather small repertoire to tape, the results were invariably spellbinding, and that’s the case with this collection of all his Mozart recordings for Decca.
Curzon’s playing is utterly simple and unadorned, as if he were trying to remove himself from the performance equation and leave nothing but the purified essence of Mozart’s music. But the lack of surface fireworks is compensated for by the probing, lyrical character of his playing. He rarely draws attention to his entrances in opening movements, yet his phrasing at the opening of the famous D-minor Concerto (No. 20) is so subtle and so unaffected that it magnifies the sense of desolation that pervades the whole work. Played without a trace of sentimentality, slow movements demonstrate how "singing" his playing could be, especially at the daringly slow tempo he and Benjamin Britten adopt in No. 27. Most of the finales sparkle with a refined good humor, but in the minor-key works there’s an unexpected flair and drama, especially in the C-minor (No. 24).
Curzon also has the benefit of outstanding collaborators. Britten and the English Chamber Orchestra offer graceful and poised accompaniments, as if the two great artists were contemplating Mozart’s beauty from a distance yet finding and revealing all its intricacies. The playing of István Kertész and the London Symphony Orchestra is more robust and full-bodied, encouraging Curzon to draw out the contrasting sides of Mozart’s character. I wish that Decca had managed to improve the slightly hazy sound of the Britten recordings, but that isn’t nearly enough to dampen my enthusiasm for Mozart playing of such caliber.