Chitose Okashiro is no stranger to Alexander Scriabin; she was only the third pianist to record Scriabin's etudes as a complete unit, a combination of literature and CD length that has become so commonplace since that it is almost regarded as blasé. Her return to Scriabin is no less illuminating, as it contains a four-hand piano version of Scriabin's orchestral work The Poem of Ecstasy as transcribed by Léon (i.e., Leo or Lev) Conus (also, Konyus) -- a pianist in the
Rachmaninoff/Scriabin orbit -- and further extensively revised by
Okashiro herself. In this recording both parts are played by
Okashiro side by side; the annotator muses that this "[is] not known to have been accomplished previously." But it has;
Bill Evans commonly recorded multiple piano parts, much to the disdain of critics at the time (in the 1960s), and blind pianist Lennie Tristano multi-tracked as early as 1952, when stereo wasn't even available to him. Liner notes aside, the result of
Okashiro's four-hand performance of The Poem of Ecstasy is captivating, as is the rest of the disc, which contains a selection of mostly later, "mystic" pieces, though she does aver to the familiar, shorter version of the Etude in D sharp minor Op. 8/12; in the earlier outing
Okashiro utilized the longer one.
Okashiro brings just the right elements to her interpretation of Scriabin; she is languid and flexible in pieces that are slower and more diaphanous, and short, sharp, and shocked in Scriabin moments that are marked by violence and cacophony. She seems to understand that while one may interpret Scriabin's music in either a typically late romantic or a typically modern way and still get it "right," Scriabin's rhythmic profile is uniquely his own and can vary nearly from piece to piece.
Okashiro keeps an open mind in regard to the rhythm, playing certain pieces with a very regular tempo and others with great flexibility. The result is quite dazzling and provides a grand sense of variety and edge-of-your seat anticipation throughout the disc. Likewise,
Okashiro pays close attention to dynamics and seems to be able to coax innumerable layers of shade and color out of the piano, drawing back veil after veil in levels of sound.
There is one minor quibble about this ProPiano recording, which was made on a Steinway D 0160 at Seiji Ozawa Hall in Tanglewood. At the start of the disc the upper registers are very bright and percussive in the piano, and a few minutes into it this seems to settle down and is alright for the remainder of the disc, but nevertheless is noticeable. That, however, should not deter the true Scraibinist from wanting to connect with this awesome recording, and those mainly interested in Scriabin's mystic side will not do badly at all to seek it out. Forget the liner notes; just enjoy the music!