Monthly Archives: September 2023

Hungarian pianist Etelka Freund died on May 27, 1977 at the age of 98. She was a pianist with a remarkable lineage whose interrupted career and relative dearth of recordings has led to her largely being forgotten; fortunately there has been a relatively recent revival of interest as her scant studio discography and some private recordings have become available.

Born in 1879 (the exact date is not clear), Etelka Freund had a talented older brother Robert who had studied with Ignaz Moscheles, who was a contemporary of Beethoven and friend (and teacher) of Mendelssohn. Robert also studied with Tausig and Liszt, in addition to playing for Brahms. Etelka, some 20 years younger than Robert, had an opportunity to regularly play for Brahms, who admired her very much: when a friend of the composer asked if the young lady played, the composer affirmed in a loud voice, ‘To the enjoyment of everyone!” The composer is also said to have insisted that the Gesellschaft für Musikfreunde have her as a regular member despite her still being a student – she would be their youngest member. Freund also trained with Liszt pupil István Thomán (who also taught Bartók) and Busoni, as well as with her compatriot Bartók, with whom she had a close relationship – and at age 16 she went to Vienna to study with the legendary Theodor Leschetizky.

Although she stopped concertizing between 1910 and 1936 to focus on raising her children, Freund then resumed playing to continued great critical acclaim. She finally emigrated to the US in 1946 and had a successful debut at the Washington National Gallery the following year, but managers were not interested in promoting a 68-year-old pianist.

Fortunately, she made a handful of recordings through which her artistry can be experienced, but was largely overlooked despite having maintained her facility to a very old age. It should be noted that a recording of the Chopin Waltzes attributed to Freund is adamantly believed by several leading pianophiles to be a different pianist: Gregor Benko (co-founder of the International Piano Archives) spoke with Freund’s son, who was present at all of her recording sessions, and he had no recollection having set down a single work of Chopin. The same goes for an account of the Schumann Brahms Variations by one Frieda V, long thought to be Freund: it is in fact the Austrian pianist Frieda Valenzi.

Below is a fascinating interview with Allan Evans, who revived interest in her, and the pianist’s son from a radio programme hosted by David Dubal:

 

Here is perhaps the most important recording in Freund’s discography: a September 1953 recording of the Brahms Piano Sonata in F Minor Op.5, issued on the Remington label (R-199-109). Freund would have been about 74 years old when she set down this account of this titanic Brahms Sonata, a challenging work for an artist of any age. She plays with impressive strength and cohesiveness: melodic lines are beautifully highlighted, chords impeccably balanced, and textures exquisitely clear. Her timing is particularly remarkable, with just the right degree of expansiveness so as to never be exaggerated or sentimental. (Below this account of the Sonata are the two Intermezzi from the same LP.)

 

Recorded for the same LP was the Intermezzo in B-Flat Minor Op.117 No.2, played a sumptuous sonority, luscious phrasing with elegant singing lines, beautifully balanced textures, and a remarkable rhythmic pulse that maintains momentum without being driven but which is instead incredibly fluid.

 

Also on that Remington LP was another Brahms Intermezzo, the Intermezzo in A Minor, Op.116 No.2 – an equally remarkable interpretation, particularly notable for the asynchronization of left and right hands, an effect so wonderfully accomplished that it is not distorted or passé as some might suggestion. And what gorgeous singing tone, poised balance of primary and secondary voices, and incredible timing, with an incredible means of connecting the different ‘chapters’ of the work – a truly mesmerizing performance!

 

Recorded privately in 1950 and only published on a Pearl CD set that Allan Evans produced is the Brahms Intermezzo in E-Flat Minor Op.118 No.6. The relative constriction of the sound is no impediment to appreciating the incredible depth of Freund’s interpretation. In lyrical passages there is such spacious phrasing that allows lines to breathe as key chords and notes linger, seamlessly blending into what follows, while the stormy middle section is incredibly emotional and powerful.

 

A previously unpublished radio broadcast of the artist in Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata was included in Marston Records’ superb Landmarks of Recorded Pianism Volume 2 in 2020, a glorious performance that appears to have not been on the radar of a many collectors – you can hear an excerpt of it beginning at 2:31 in the video compilation (featuring a number of pianists) below (note that the image here is of Reah Sadowsky and not of Freund):

 

One recording of Freund playing Mendelssohn has been made available, a March 8, 1952 recording of the Fantasie in F-Sharp Minor Op.28 – fascinating to hear given her brother’s tutelage with Mendelssohn’s friend and teacher Moscheles. In her 72nd year at the time, she gives a superb performance, with impeccably voiced chords, beautifully shaped phrasing, masterful pedalling, marvellously coordinated articulation, wonderful timing, and gorgeous singing tone.

 

Freund had a great affinity for the works of Liszt as well, as evidenced by this superb November 8, 1951 traversal of his Funerailles.  Linked to the composer’s lineage through her brother and teacher, Freund demonstrates an understanding of his idiom with the amazing atmospheric effects she creates through tone and pedal, along with her transparent voicing. What an incredible resonant rumbling bass, declamatory melodic line, and spacious lyrical phrasing, with incredible power in the towering octaves that belie her age at the time.

 

As Freund worked directly with Bartók, it is of great interest to hear her way with his music. Just as the composer had once requested that a student playing for him play ‘a little less Bartók-ish’, Freund grasps the concept that his modern harmonic language does not call for aggressive sound: she plays throughout with beautiful tone even as she accents and plays dissonant chords. Wonderfully transparent playing that captures the folkloric nature of the music.

 

To close, a private 1958 recording of the artist playing with sublime mastery a gorgeous excerpt from Book 1 of the Well-Tempered Clavier: the Prelude in E-Flat Minor and the Fugue in D-Sharp Minor, BWV 853. It could be the influence of Busoni that we hear in her marvellous use of the pedal, accents, and highlighting of motifs as they switch between voices and hands. Even on a somewhat out-of-tune piano, her command is evident through her spacious phrasing, poised transparent voicing, and remarkable use of dynamics to clarify structure and highlight the emotional content. Absolutely beguiling playing by a true master of the keyboard and of music.

 

 

Hungarian pianist Etelka Freund died on May 27, 1977 at the age of 98. She was a pianist with a remarkable lineage whose interrupted career and relative dearth of recordings has led to her largely being forgotten; fortunately there has been a relatively recent revival of interest as her scant studio discography and some private recordings have become available.

Born in 1879 (the exact date is not clear), Etelka Freund had a talented older brother Robert who had studied with Ignaz Moscheles, who was a contemporary of Beethoven and friend (and teacher) of Mendelssohn. Robert also studied with Tausig and Liszt, in addition to playing for Brahms. Etelka, some 20 years younger than Robert, had an opportunity to regularly play for Brahms, who admired her very much: when a friend of the composer asked if the young lady played, the composer affirmed in a loud voice, ‘To the enjoyment of everyone!” The composer is also said to have insisted that the Gesellschaft für Musikfreunde have her as a regular member despite her still being a student – she would be their youngest member. Freund also trained with Liszt pupil István Thomán (who also taught Bartók) and Busoni, as well as with her compatriot Bartók, with whom she had a close relationship – and at age 16 she went to Vienna to study with the legendary Theodor Leschetizky.

Although she stopped concertizing between 1910 and 1936 to focus on raising her children, Freund then resumed playing to continued great critical acclaim. She finally emigrated to the US in 1946 and had a successful debut at the Washington National Gallery the following year, but managers were not interested in promoting a 68-year-old pianist.

Fortunately, she made a handful of recordings through which her artistry can be experienced, but was largely overlooked despite having maintained her facility to a very old age. It should be noted that a recording of the Chopin Waltzes attributed to Freund is adamantly believed by several leading pianophiles to be a different pianist: Gregor Benko (co-founder of the International Piano Archives) spoke with Freund’s son, who was present at all of her recording sessions, and he had no recollection having set down a single work of Chopin. The same goes for an account of the Schumann Brahms Variations by one Frieda V, long thought to be Freund: it is in fact the Austrian pianist Frieda Valenzi.

Below is a fascinating interview with Allan Evans, who revived interest in her, and the pianist’s son from a radio programme hosted by David Dubal:

 

Here is perhaps the most important recording in Freund’s discography: a September 1953 recording of the Brahms Piano Sonata in F Minor Op.5, issued on the Remington label (R-199-109). Freund would have been about 74 years old when she set down this account of this titanic Brahms Sonata, a challenging work for an artist of any age. She plays with impressive strength and cohesiveness: melodic lines are beautifully highlighted, chords impeccably balanced, and textures exquisitely clear. Her timing is particularly remarkable, with just the right degree of expansiveness so as to never be exaggerated or sentimental. (Below this account of the Sonata are the two Intermezzi from the same LP.)

 

Recorded for the same LP was the Intermezzo in B-Flat Minor Op.117 No.2, played a sumptuous sonority, luscious phrasing with elegant singing lines, beautifully balanced textures, and a remarkable rhythmic pulse that maintains momentum without being driven but which is instead incredibly fluid.

 

Also on that Remington LP was another Brahms Intermezzo, the Intermezzo in A Minor, Op.116 No.2 – an equally remarkable interpretation, particularly notable for the asynchronization of left and right hands, an effect so wonderfully accomplished that it is not distorted or passé as some might suggestion. And what gorgeous singing tone, poised balance of primary and secondary voices, and incredible timing, with an incredible means of connecting the different ‘chapters’ of the work – a truly mesmerizing performance!

 

Recorded privately in 1950 and only published on a Pearl CD set that Allan Evans produced is the Brahms Intermezzo in E-Flat Minor Op.118 No.6. The relative constriction of the sound is no impediment to appreciating the incredible depth of Freund’s interpretation. In lyrical passages there is such spacious phrasing that allows lines to breathe as key chords and notes linger, seamlessly blending into what follows, while the stormy middle section is incredibly emotional and powerful.

 

A previously unpublished radio broadcast of the artist in Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata was included in Marston Records’ superb Landmarks of Recorded Pianism Volume 2 in 2020, a glorious performance that appears to have not been on the radar of a many collectors – you can hear an excerpt of it beginning at 2:31 in the video compilation (featuring a number of pianists) below (note that the image here is of Reah Sadowsky and not of Freund):

 

One recording of Freund playing Mendelssohn has been made available, a March 8, 1952 recording of the Fantasie in F-Sharp Minor Op.28 – fascinating to hear given her brother’s tutelage with Mendelssohn’s friend and teacher Moscheles. In her 72nd year at the time, she gives a superb performance, with impeccably voiced chords, beautifully shaped phrasing, masterful pedalling, marvellously coordinated articulation, wonderful timing, and gorgeous singing tone.

 

Freund had a great affinity for the works of Liszt as well, as evidenced by this superb November 8, 1951 traversal of his Funerailles.  Linked to the composer’s lineage through her brother and teacher, Freund demonstrates an understanding of his idiom with the amazing atmospheric effects she creates through tone and pedal, along with her transparent voicing. What an incredible resonant rumbling bass, declamatory melodic line, and spacious lyrical phrasing, with incredible power in the towering octaves that belie her age at the time.

 

As Freund worked directly with Bartók, it is of great interest to hear her way with his music. Just as the composer had once requested that a student playing for him play ‘a little less Bartók-ish’, Freund grasps the concept that his modern harmonic language does not call for aggressive sound: she plays throughout with beautiful tone even as she accents and plays dissonant chords. Wonderfully transparent playing that captures the folkloric nature of the music.

 

To close, a private 1958 recording of the artist playing with sublime mastery a gorgeous excerpt from Book 1 of the Well-Tempered Clavier: the Prelude in E-Flat Minor and the Fugue in D-Sharp Minor, BWV 853. It could be the influence of Busoni that we hear in her marvellous use of the pedal, accents, and highlighting of motifs as they switch between voices and hands. Even on a somewhat out-of-tune piano, her command is evident through her spacious phrasing, poised transparent voicing, and remarkable use of dynamics to clarify structure and highlight the emotional content. Absolutely beguiling playing by a true master of the keyboard and of music.

 

 

Dinu Lipatti signed his contract with the Columbia label of EMI in January 1946, and at his first session at a studio in Zurich that July he recorded three works: Chopin’s Waltz in A-Flat Op.34 No.1, Liszt’s Sonetto del Petrarca No.104, and Liszt’s La Leggierezza. The exact date of the session is unknown: Lipatti wrote prior to the session that he was scheduled to make a series of recordings from July 4 to 6, but only recorded these 3 titles and so likely it took place on one of these days. Columbia was experimenting with a new recording material, and the masters which were pressed warped while in transit to London. Engineers attempted to press the records, but they were unsalvageable.

While Lipatti would once again record the Chopin Waltz – as a filler for the Grieg Concerto – and the Sonetto del Petrarca, both on September 24, 1947 at London’s Abbey Road Studio No.3, he did not make another attempt at La Leggierezza. While pitch-correcting technology could be used today to repair the damage to the 1946 recordings, no test pressings have been found and the record pressing master stampers have been destroyed. The recording sheet reproduced here lists October 15, 1946 as the date for a recording made at Abbey Road, but this is incorrect (as the handwritten note ‘Recorded in Switzerland’ indicates) and is undoubtedly the date of the attempted pressing of the disc.

Fast-forward to 1990. I was in London hoping to find more Lipatti recordings and paid a visit to the National Sound Archive, which was then located on Exhibition Road in Kensington. I searched through their card catalogue, which is what one did in the days before the internet, but there was nothing under Lipatti. I then had a hunch to search through the composers he’d performed just in case something was not properly cross-referenced – and sure enough… under Liszt, there was listed a recording on tape 101W of Dinu Lipatti playing La Leggierezza. It said that it had been recorded from a BBC broadcast by one D Steynor and obtained by the British Institute of Recorded Sound on October 21, 1958. I requested to listen to the tape, and I was flabbergasted by the playing. The opening few measures were missing and there was a big pitch fluctuation near the beginning of the recording, but other than that and the somewhat restricted tonal range, one could clearly hear Lipatti’s unique pianism.

A couple of years later when I returned to London, I met with the staff to discuss the recording. As Werner Unger of archiphon records and I were formulating plans to obtain and release some lost Lipatti recordings, we wanted to discuss the possibility of obtaining a copy of the tape. The staff of the NSA were very accommodating, and we listened to the recording together. Their engineers, with their incredibly trained ears, could recognize the acoustic as being a BBC studio, whereas I had thought this might still be a broadcast of a test pressing of the unpublished EMI recording. Further research revealed that Lipatti did in fact broadcast the work from the BBC studios on September 25, 1947. I have more recently discovered that this was part of a broadcast Lipatti gave on the Music In Miniature program on the BBC, in which he also played a Chopin Waltz (most likely the same A-Flat Major Waltz, which he recorded at Abbey Road the day before) and quite likely the Etude Op.10 No.2, which he was heard practicing during a break in the recording session of the Grieg Piano Concerto the week before (and which would pair beautifully with La Leggierezza).

The staff at the National Sound Archive said that if we could obtain permission from the BBC, they would be able to copy us the tape: we just needed to show that the broadcast took place before July 1957, something that was easy since Lipatti died in 1950. Unger handled that side of things, and the BBC were – rather surprisingly, given the stories that I’d heard – gracious not only in allowing us to have a copy of the NSA’s tape but also in consenting to its commercial release. In late 1994 we issued it on the archiphon CD set ‘Les Inédits’, its only authorized CD release to date.

The playing is phenomenal, and there are a few nuances that are particularly worth noting. Throughout the work, the bassline is remarkably clear, something that all Romantic pianists did in their playing: scores did not indicate that a line in the bass with step-wise progression should be highlighted because everyone at the time knew that it should be done. At 1:13 to 1:17, Lipatti voices the chords in the right hand such that the atonal quality of the harmonies stand out, highlighting the avant-garde nature of Liszt’s writing. In the section beginning at 2:52, as Lipatti moves from ascending to descending runs, he accelerates as he ‘goes around the corner’, so to speak, which produces a wonderfully ‘light’ effect. And then at 3:41-3:44, where every pianist that I’ve heard slows down and plays a decrescendo, Lipatti does the exact opposite, speeding up and crashing into a fortissimo in a grand, heroic gesture.

While we can lament the lack of more Liszt recordings by Lipatti – if only he’d played the B-Minor Sonata! – we do have a greater idea of his approach to this great composer through the recordings that have come to light, among them an early test recording of Gnomenreigen, a 1947 concert recording of the First Concerto, and this current recording. We can keep our hopes alive that a broadcast recording of Liszt’s Second Concerto, which he played in concert many times, will one day surface. In the meantime, enjoy the one BBC broadcast of Dinu Lipatti that has come to light: the September 25, 1947 broadcast of Liszt’s La Leggierezza.

Dinu Lipatti signed his contract with the Columbia label of EMI in January 1946, and at his first session at a studio in Zurich that July he recorded three works: Chopin’s Waltz in A-Flat Op.34 No.1, Liszt’s Sonetto del Petrarca No.104, and Liszt’s La Leggierezza. The exact date of the session is unknown: Lipatti wrote prior to the session that he was scheduled to make a series of recordings from July 4 to 6, but only recorded these 3 titles and so likely it took place on one of these days. Columbia was experimenting with a new recording material, and the masters which were pressed warped while in transit to London. Engineers attempted to press the records, but they were unsalvageable.

While Lipatti would once again record the Chopin Waltz – as a filler for the Grieg Concerto – and the Sonetto del Petrarca, both on September 24, 1947 at London’s Abbey Road Studio No.3, he did not make another attempt at La Leggierezza. While pitch-correcting technology could be used today to repair the damage to the 1946 recordings, no test pressings have been found and the record pressing master stampers have been destroyed. The recording sheet reproduced here lists October 15, 1946 as the date for a recording made at Abbey Road, but this is incorrect (as the handwritten note ‘Recorded in Switzerland’ indicates) and is undoubtedly the date of the attempted pressing of the disc.

Fast-forward to 1990. I was in London hoping to find more Lipatti recordings and paid a visit to the National Sound Archive, which was then located on Exhibition Road in Kensington. I searched through their card catalogue, which is what one did in the days before the internet, but there was nothing under Lipatti. I then had a hunch to search through the composers he’d performed just in case something was not properly cross-referenced – and sure enough… under Liszt, there was listed a recording on tape 101W of Dinu Lipatti playing La Leggierezza. It said that it had been recorded from a BBC broadcast by one D Steynor and obtained by the British Institute of Recorded Sound on October 21, 1958. I requested to listen to the tape, and I was flabbergasted by the playing. The opening few measures were missing and there was a big pitch fluctuation near the beginning of the recording, but other than that and the somewhat restricted tonal range, one could clearly hear Lipatti’s unique pianism.

A couple of years later when I returned to London, I met with the staff to discuss the recording. As Werner Unger of archiphon records and I were formulating plans to obtain and release some lost Lipatti recordings, we wanted to discuss the possibility of obtaining a copy of the tape. The staff of the NSA were very accommodating, and we listened to the recording together. Their engineers, with their incredibly trained ears, could recognize the acoustic as being a BBC studio, whereas I had thought this might still be a broadcast of a test pressing of the unpublished EMI recording. Further research revealed that Lipatti did in fact broadcast the work from the BBC studios on September 25, 1947. I have more recently discovered that this was part of a broadcast Lipatti gave on the Music In Miniature program on the BBC, in which he also played a Chopin Waltz (most likely the same A-Flat Major Waltz, which he recorded at Abbey Road the day before) and quite likely the Etude Op.10 No.2, which he was heard practicing during a break in the recording session of the Grieg Piano Concerto the week before (and which would pair beautifully with La Leggierezza).

The staff at the National Sound Archive said that if we could obtain permission from the BBC, they would be able to copy us the tape: we just needed to show that the broadcast took place before July 1957, something that was easy since Lipatti died in 1950. Unger handled that side of things, and the BBC were – rather surprisingly, given the stories that I’d heard – gracious not only in allowing us to have a copy of the NSA’s tape but also in consenting to its commercial release. In late 1994 we issued it on the archiphon CD set ‘Les Inédits’, its only authorized CD release to date.

The playing is phenomenal, and there are a few nuances that are particularly worth noting. Throughout the work, the bassline is remarkably clear, something that all Romantic pianists did in their playing: scores did not indicate that a line in the bass with step-wise progression should be highlighted because everyone at the time knew that it should be done. At 1:13 to 1:17, Lipatti voices the chords in the right hand such that the atonal quality of the harmonies stand out, highlighting the avant-garde nature of Liszt’s writing. In the section beginning at 2:52, as Lipatti moves from ascending to descending runs, he accelerates as he ‘goes around the corner’, so to speak, which produces a wonderfully ‘light’ effect. And then at 3:41-3:44, where every pianist that I’ve heard slows down and plays a decrescendo, Lipatti does the exact opposite, speeding up and crashing into a fortissimo in a grand, heroic gesture.

While we can lament the lack of more Liszt recordings by Lipatti – if only he’d played the B-Minor Sonata! – we do have a greater idea of his approach to this great composer through the recordings that have come to light, among them an early test recording of Gnomenreigen, a 1947 concert recording of the First Concerto, and this current recording. We can keep our hopes alive that a broadcast recording of Liszt’s Second Concerto, which he played in concert many times, will one day surface. In the meantime, enjoy the one BBC broadcast of Dinu Lipatti that has come to light: the September 25, 1947 broadcast of Liszt’s La Leggierezza.