Deutsche Grammophon must be very happy to have Grigory Sokolov in its stable. The Russian came to the notice of the world in 1966, winning the International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition at only 16. Yet, since then, one senses restraint in the number of recordings released, all captured live in the concert hall.
Bruno Monsaingeon, who filmed Sokolov's 2002 Paris recital, has defended this stand, pointing out that, for this artist, the concert represents the focal point of magical life and that everything else is artificial.
"I play only what I want to play," are the words heading the booklet essay for Sokolov's new Salzburg Recital, and the scope of his musical tastes is revealed in this 2008 performance.
It opens with two Mozart Sonatas, both in F major, both revelations. After an exhilarating wave of applause, the opening Allegro of K280 catches you from its first phrase, lithe, graceful and with a certain attitude. The journey continues, highlights being the poignant, minor-key Adagio of this Sonata and the bold ornamentation in the K332 work during the first movement's recapitulation section.
The second half of the recital is devoted to a magisterial presentation of Chopin's 24 Preludes. Compared to a recording he made in the early 1990s, tempi are slightly sharpened this time around, apart from the slower Preludes. These are true songs of the soul, perfectly balanced in the yin and yang of articulation and rubato.
The evening could have ended here, but the generous Sokolov came up with six generous encores. Two Scriabin Poemes (Opus 69) are evanescent miniatures, the second catching the world and colours of Stravinsky's Firebird on the keyboard.
Two Chopin Mazurkas are offset by a romp through Rameau's Les Sauvages, a whirring whirligig, ornamented to within a bar of its life.
The closing Bach chorale prelude, Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, ushers in a mood of reflection and inner peace, with Sokolov omitting the last four bars of Busoni's transcription, in which Bach's final phrase sinks irretrievably into the lower depths of the instrument's register.
Verdict: A magical night in Salzburg seven years ago caught for posterity