129 CD / Hommage à György Ligeti
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We pay homage to a conscientious artist who has found a composer and a cause to champion. (Audiophile Audition)
15 reviews for 129 CD / Hommage à György Ligeti
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Audiophile Audition –
Hungarian composer Gyorgy Ligeti (1923-2006) came into (American) prominence through Stanley Kubrick’s films, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Shining, and Eyes Wide Shut. But he had been an active keyboard composer from 1942, when his musical syntax resembled that of his compatriot Bartok, as cross-fertilized by the pedagogies of Farkas, Kodaly, Kadosa, and Veress. Later, in Cologne, Ligeti absorbed influences from Stockhausen, Nancarrow, and Koenig, mainly the sound and textures of electronic music, which Ligeti imitated through conventional instrumentation. Always curious, Ligeti studied Rumanian folk music extensively; but he also pursued Lewis Carroll, mathematics, science, and architecture.
The music of Apparitions (1959) gained Ligeti some notice for his insistence on what he called “micropolyphony” or the blurring (“blockage”) of harmonically distinct tones into a new mass, as did Lontano (1967); but his opera Le Grand Macabre (1978) struck a nerve in the public that remained a definitive moment in the theater of the metaphysically absurd.
Professor Erika Haase (b. 1935) assumes the mantle of Ligeti interpretation, performing the entire oeuvre of piano works in their chronological order on two distinct instruments, a Steinway and a Bechstein, over a period extending 1990-2003. The early pieces, such as the Five Pieces for Piano, Four Hands (1942-1950), enjoy the collaboration of Haase and Carmen Piazzini, a pupil of Wilhelm Kempff. The opening March and Polyphonic Etude each communicates a definite rhythmic sense, often syncopated by jagged accents. Three Wedding Dances clearly invoke Bartok in their modal angularity and feeling for peasant song. The Sonata (1950) is a pointillist-sounding piece of lively, Stravinskian energies, glittering and jazzy, with an Andante indebted to Ravel. Allegro could say “barbaro,” but it end so abruptly as to remain a mere hint of the other Magyar master.
The three pieces of 1947--Invention, Capriccio No. 1 and No. 2--begin where Schoenberg’s Op. 19 seems to end, though the rhythmic kernels achieve some extension. Jabbing, skittish, polyphonic and chromatic, the pieces alternate between staccati runs and brief flirtations with legato phrases. Between 1951-1953 Ligeti composed his Musica Ricercata, a series of eleven miniatures, each devoted to a musical challenge or problem: for instance, Schoenberg and Mahler had argued whether a full composition could be derived from a single note played in several octaves in varying timbres, not a far cry from Ravel’s Bolero. The first of Ricercata develops one note, the second a second interval, and so on. Experimenting with densities and textures, these etudes correspond to similar arrangements of sound written by Edgard Varese. Hard edged, the pieces can become quite haunted, as the Mesto: Parlando of No. 2, utilized in Eyes Wide Shut. Juxtaposed against the Mesto is the fleet Allegro con spirito, a piece that Duke Ellington or Hoagy Carmichael might have penned. Another quicksilver moment in No. 6. An equally driving etude in the upbeat No. 8. The No. 4 makes a quick allusion to Chopin’s “Minute” Waltz, cross fertilized by demented Ravel. The No. 5 marked Rubato. Lamentso has an affinity to Satie, with piercing ostinati and dark parlando motifs. Debussy might be the dedicatee for No. 7, with its running bass line and simple tenor voice sung by Ondine or a maid with flaxen hair. Bela Bartok enjoys a direct homage in No. 9, Ligeti’s compressed answer to Liszt’s Funerailles. The wicked Vivace: Capriccioso that ensues might be Copland, but the treble haze is too ripe. Finally, fugal homage to Frescobaldi, a de profundis of staid concentration and restraint.
A compositional hiatus of twenty years marks the period prior to the appearance of Continuum (1968) and the 1978 pieces, Passacaglia ungherese and Hungarian Rock, each for cembalo. Continuum is a wild ride: a kind of pointillist alarm bell, continuously prestissimo, so that Haase’s wrists must be made of rubber, to produce the illusion of unbroken, vibrating sound, almost organ-like in a huge, contradictory bass tone. Acoustically, the harpsichord is urged to a series of shrieks and yodels. Hungarian Passacaglia proceeds sedately if modally, the spirit of Couperin close by, even as the piece ends quasi-toccata. Hungarian Rock is a bravura sound-piece in modern ragtime, utilizing the harpsichord’s capacity to pluck out a tune over its own arpeggiations.
Monument from Three Pieces for 2 Pianos (1976) opens with a 5-bar rest, so you first think your disc player is awry; the piece proceeds as a layered sequencing of fortissimo chords and progressions, gradually varied metrically and achieving some jabbing fluidity, the treble staccati not far from Messaien‘s bird calls. The middle piece, Self-portrait, pays homage to Terry Riley, Steve Reich and Frederic Chopin, albeit ironically. Through applications and releases of the damper pedal, Ligeti urges forth “blocked notes” that create an eerie, imperfect synchronicity between the two pianos. We are close to Cowell’s The Banshee, but the aesthetic derives from a planned spontaneity, almost aleatory. The last section of the portrait clearly borrows from the strange conclusion of Chopin’s B-flat Minor Sonata, Op. 35. The last piece drips with arpeggios which become ever louder and faster; a crisis point ensues, and the piece breaks into tiered droplets, from which a quiet canon emerges.
It might be worth an academic’s time to compare Ligeti’s theories of “amalgamated counterpoint” to the “interpunct” of contemporary keyboardist Alexandre Tcherepnin. Both men expand contrapuntal harmony as an outgrowth of Schoenberg, but also adding eclectic blends of Eastern or post-John Cage acoustics to produce a truly “transcendental” etude. Three books of Ligeti Etudes are bequeathed us: 1-6 (1985); 7-14 (1988-1993); 15-18 (1995-2001). Alfred Brendel, in point of fact, has called the Haase interpretations more “Eastern” than those of fellow acolyte Pierre-Laurent Aimard. The etudes emphasize complex, mechanical rhythms, displaced major and minor triads, polymodal structures, and sound sources traceable to Bartok, Debussy, Nancarrow, Bill Evans, African folk music, and gamelan percussion. The utter independence of the hands is the rule: Haase constantly has to adjust accent, touch, timbre, and articulation. The movement traverses darkness and light, order and chaos, simplicity and Byzantine nightmares. After a grueling No. 1 called Disorder, we have Empty Strings, a series of oscillating fifths. Nervous and twittering, No. 3 uses “blocked chords” to parody the composer himself, with a quick reference to “Yes sir, that’s my baby.” Fanfares moves spatially while playing with some Gershwin riffs, like “I Got Rhythm,” here split up varieties of five. Rainbow creates an illusion of peace as 16th notes upper and lower don’t quite gel in this modal and disturbed piece, Ligeti’s “footsteps in the sky.” Haase wrote to me, calling the sixth etude, Autumn in Warsaw, “a drama of the ruin of the world.” Polyrhythmic falling fourths pulsate in a parody of Bach, then a cataclysmic drop worthy of darkest Liszt.
Book II opens with a gamelan piece belonging to an imaginary island, either Huxley’s or the one occupied by Maugham’s painter Strickland. Fem, or Metal, instantiates the composer’s sound world, asynchronic and disjointed, a zany syncope a drunken Gottschalk might admire. Chromatic runs mark Vertigo, each starting while the last not quite finishes, so a blurred, seamless layering ensues, movement and stasis combined. Reminiscent of Continuum, we have The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, no Mickey Mouse piece of bravura, staccati low and high notes like a demented xylophone. In Suspense is a study in quarter notes, the clusters of notes in the black and the white keys changing places. Soft pulsations for Interlacing, a series of tremolos and ostinati in polyrhythm. Poe’s “The Bells” might influence Devil’s Ladder, another obsessive, asymmetrical study that embraces crisis. Romanian sculptor Constantin Brancusi inspired Endless Column, a monotonously wild, compulsive string of eighth notes requiring Haase to cross her hands all through the diapason of the keyboard.
Ligeti decided to refine his etude technique for Book III by reviewing his canonic technique, a la Bach. White on White uses a slow introduction that reveals a bare, bleak landscape in A Minor, a bleached-out world akin to Eliot’s The Wasteland. For Irina utilizes a narrow range of six notes, stated in the opening and then through-composed. The music increases speed only to die off, like the ending of a movie by Godard or the young Polanski. Out of Breath smears the upper and lower chromatic liens along sound principles in Bach partitas and moments of Chopin, only off-the beat. Last, the strange Canon, the left hand following the right to octaves lower and two eighths behind.
Unnerving music, boldly conceived and audaciously rendered. Was Brendel alluding to Schumann’s celebration of Chopin when he wrote, “Hats off to Erika Haase. . .a new heroine”? We, too, pay homage to a conscientious artist who has found a composer and a cause to champion.
Gary Lemco
ResMusica.com –
György Ligeti: A Sum Rather Than a Mere Product
Tacet presents, across two discs, the complete—though of course not definitive—works for piano and harpsichord by György Ligeti. The septuagenarian pianist Erika Haase, a native of Darmstadt, was connected early on to post-war composition. How could one not feel destined for the avant-garde when born in the city that served as the crucible for the research of the major musical figures of recent decades? The interpreter seems to have quickly perceived the profound intensity of this connection, a kind of artistic lineage. Her long experience with this modern repertoire is evident: in 1959, she won the Kranichsteiner Musikpreis at the International Festival of Contemporary Music. She earned study grants for Paris and London, where she collaborated with Pierre Boulez and performed as a soloist for the BBC. Alongside her study partner Carmen Piazzini, she explored Ligeti’s earliest compositions, then barely twenty years old. Through the piano pieces for four hands from the 1940s, as well as the solo works written for Sándor Veress’s composition courses in 1947 (Invention, Capriccio No. 1 and No. 2), all published with the composer’s approval just five years ago, one can (re)discover a composer already capable of great elaboration (as seen in the Polyphonic Etude of 1943) and firmly rooted in the tradition of his compatriots Bartók (evident in the Three Wedding Marches of 1950) and Kodály. Playful in tone, these works flirt with elements that foreshadow his later collections. In spirit, these early pieces from his Hungarian period (Ligeti would exile himself from his homeland in 1956) evoke the Romanian Concerto for string quartet and orchestra (1951). Whether in duo with her Italian accomplice or solo, Haase delivers a deeply committed, lively performance that skillfully captures the rhythmic flavor and the impetuous, sometimes humorous character of these works.
It was in 1951 that one of the cornerstones of his piano output emerged: the Musica Ricercata cycle, marking his emancipation from the dominant influences of his earlier years. Each of the eleven miniatures in the collection begins with a specific compositional challenge, which Ligeti resolves with essential, reduced means. Fans of Stanley Kubrick’s final film will delight in revisiting the reflection on the interval of a second—both obsessive and unsettling. Musica Ricercata already suggests a music that evolves while giving the impression of stillness, or vice versa. The art of obscuring paths to unsettle the listener’s certainties is already present in these works from over fifty years ago, foreshadowing the Etudes of the last two decades.
“I imagine a music of extreme impulsivity, highly complex in counterpoint and meter, branching like a labyrinth, with fully perceptible melodic figures but without any trace of returning to what has already been done—a non-tonal music that is not atonal either.” Thus spoke György Ligeti when commenting on his Etudes and the overarching project that drove him in the late 1980s. “One of my compositional intentions would be to create an illusory musical space in which what was originally movement and time would reveal itself as motionless and timeless.” Space and movement—two contemporary concerns at the heart of many 20th- and 21st-century challenges… Ligeti uniquely perpetuates the tradition of great Romantic music by demanding the utmost virtuosity and intellectual penetration from his interpreters. His eighteen Etudes draw on diverse influences, from chaos theory to the music of the Sahel, gamelan, swing, and Liszt. Melodic themes or nods to Debussy’s universe seem to emerge; one thinks one recognizes familiar elements, but everything reveals itself as fleeting illusions. His studies inexorably lead us into ever-renewed, unsuspected sonic realms, of which Ligeti alone holds the key. Speed serves immobility; repeated notes serve melody. Everything is paradox, enchantment and beauty, surprise, order and disorder. And Erika Haase’s undeniable talent moves as much as it fascinates, magnificently served by a recording that seems to capture the instrument at its very source.
Timbre naturally joins the two other dimensions explored in the Etudes. Continuum, for harpsichord, cultivates the paradox of an instrument that, in solo, produces a sound-fusion phenomenon culminating in synthetic highs—all while stemming from outdated, even antiquated material, presumed incapable of such spectral possibilities, yet imagined and highlighted by the composer. Two pastiches for this former queen of Baroque instruments complete a keyboard oeuvre that belongs in every collection.
Finally, a recording that—borrowing a metaphor straight from mathematics—is far more a sum than a mere product: an unfinished sum of terms converging toward the affirmation of an inexhaustible genius.
Bernard Halter
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Original Review in French language:
György Ligeti : Une somme plutôt qu′un produit!
Tacet propose sur deux disques l’intégrale – bien sûr non définitive – de l’œuvre pour piano et pour clavecin de György Ligeti. La pianiste septuagénaire Erika Haase, native de Darmstadt, a été très tôt reliée à la musique composée après-guerre. Comment ne pas se sentir prédestinée pour l’Avant-garde lorsqu’on voit le jour dans LA ville qui fut le creuset des recherches menées par les acteurs majeurs de la musique de ces dernières décennies ? L’interprète semble avoir très vite perçu l’intensité profonde de ce lien, cette ascendance en quelque sorte. Sa longue expérience de ce répertoire moderne est manifeste : en 1959, Erika Haase remporte dans le cadre du Festival International de Musique Contemporaine le Prix « Kranichsteiner Musikpreis ». Elle obtient des bourses d’études pour Paris et Londres où elle collabore notamment avec Pierre Boulez et où elle se produit en soliste pour le compte de la BBC. En compagnie de son amie d’études Carmen Piazzini, elle explore les débuts componentiels de Ligeti, alors âgés d’à peine vingt ans. Au travers des pièces pour piano à quatre mains des années quarante, ainsi que des morceaux pour piano seul écrits à l’occasion des cours de composition dispensés par Sándor Veress en 1947 (Invention, Capriccio n°1 et n°2), tous publiés avec l’accord du compositeur il y a tout juste cinq ans, il est loisible de (re-)découvrir un compositeur déjà capable d’une grande élaboration (Polyphonic Etude de 1943) et qui s’inscrit à cette époque dans le prolongement de ses pairs et compatriotes Bartók (patent dans les trois marches nuptiales de 1950) et Kodály. Volontiers badin, le ton y flirte avec des éléments anticipant cependant les recueils de la maturité. Par l’esprit, ces quelques opus issus de sa période hongroise (Ligeti s’exilera de son pays natal en 1956) rappellent le Concerto Roumain pour quatuor à cordes et orchestre de 1951. En duo avec sa complice italienne ou seule, Erika Haase déploie un jeu très investi, vif, qui rend avantageusement la saveur des rythmes et le caractère impétueux et parfois humoristique de ces pièces.
C’est en 1951 que l’un des piliers de sa production pour piano voit le jour. Le cycle Musica Ricercata correspond à l’affranchissement des influences dominantes ayant prévalu auparavant. Les onze miniatures du recueil partent toutes d’un problème de composition donné, que Ligeti se propose de résoudre avec des moyens réduits à l’essentiel. Les aficionados du dernier film de Stanley Kubrick réentendront avec bonheur la réflexion sur l’intervalle de seconde, obsédant et trouble à la fois. Musica Ricercata suggère déjà une musique qui évolue tout en donnant l’impression d’une immobilité, ou le contraire. L’art de brouiller les pistes pour relativiser les certitudes de l’auditeur se succèdent déjà dans ces travaux d’il y a plus de cinquante ans, des travaux qui annoncent les Etudes de ces deux dernières décades.
« Je m’imagine une musique d’une extrême impulsivité, très complexe du point de vue du contrepoint et de la métrique, ramifiée comme un labyrinthe, avec des figures mélodiques tout à fait percevables, mais sans aucune trace de retour au déjà fait, une musique non tonale sans être non plus atonale. » Ainsi s’exprimait György Ligeti, lorsqu’il commentait ses Etudes et le projet d’ensemble qui le meut vers la fin des années quatre-vingt. « Une de mes intentions de composition serait la création d’un espace musical illusoire à l’intérieur duquel ce qui était à l’origine mouvement et temps s’avérerait être immobile et intemporel. » Espace et mouvement, deux préoccupations contemporaines au centre de maints enjeux aux XXe et XXIe siècles… Ligeti perpétue d’une manière unique en son genre la tradition de la grande musique romantique en cela qu’il exige de ses interprètes un maximum de virtuosité et de percée intellectuelle. Ses dix-huit Etudes font appel à diverses influences allant de la théorie mathématique du chaos à la musique du Sahel en passant par le gamelan, le swing, Liszt… Des thèmes mélodiques ou des clins d’œil à l’univers de Debussy, par exemple, semblent se dégager, on croit percevoir des éléments familiers, mais tout se révèle comme autant d’illusions fugaces, systématiquement. Ses études nous emmènent inexorablement sur des plans sonores sans cesse renouvelés, insoupçonnés, dont Ligeti demeure le seul à avoir l’apanage. La vitesse se met au service de l’immobilité, les notes répétées à celui de la mélodie. Tout est paradoxe, féerie et beauté, surprise, ordre et désordre. Et le talent indéniable d’Erika Haase émeut autant qu’il fascine, magnifiquement servi par ailleurs par un enregistrement qui semble capter l’instrument à sa source.
Le timbre vient s’ajouter tout naturellement aux deux autres notions explorées dans les Etudes. Continuum, pour clavecin, cultive le paradoxe d’un instrument qui, en solo, produit un phénomène acoustique de fusion sonore culminant vers des aigus synthétiques alors que tout n’émane que d’un matériel daté, voire vétuste, et qui, par sa physiologie, est présupposé dépourvu de ces possibilités spectrales, imaginées et mise en exergue pourtant par le compositeur. Deux pastiches pour le même instrument-roi de l’ère baroque viennent compléter une œuvre pour clavier à remettre entre toutes les mains.
Enfin un disque qui, pour faire une métaphore tout droit sortie des mathématiques, est bien plus une somme qu’un produit ! Une somme non encore finie de termes convergeant vers l’affirmation d’un génie inépuisable.
Bernard Halter
Fono Forum –
The title ′Hommage à György Ligeti′ is borne by a double CD now released by Tacet (2 CD 129), compiling all of his works for piano and harpsichord. The centerpiece of the edition is, of course, the Études. Erika Haase has updated her—already highly praised in this magazine—recording by re-recording Études No. 17 (À bout de souffle) and No. 18 (Canon). While the harpsichord works—also performed by Erika Haase—are likely reissues, she has additionally recorded several duo pieces in cohesive collaboration with Carmen Piazzini. Whereas the Five Pieces for Piano Four-Hands from 1942 to 1950 were clearly composed under the influence of Bartók and Kodály, the Three Pieces for Two Pianos from 1976 already come across like anticipated Études.
Will
Musik an sich –
A MAGNIFICENT HOMMAGE: LIGETI'S WORKS FOR PIANO AND HARPSICHORD
LIGETI'S "SORCERER'S APPRENTICE": ERIKA HAASE
If you compare the first of György Ligeti's piano études, Désordre, in the recordings by Erika Haase (1990) and Idil Biret (Naxos 2002), you might initially struggle to believe they are the same piece. The roughly 25 seconds by which Haase is faster cannot be the sole explanation. Perhaps it can be put this way: Biret chooses a slower tempo (one that even falls short of the composer's ideal metronome markings) to make the structure of the music audible to the listener. With her crystal-clear, equally precise and cool touch, she lays out the musical score before the curious listener's ears, so to speak. The look into the "engine room" of the music reveals the intricate, wildly proliferating inner life of the étude, in which the right hand plays only the white keys and the left exclusively the black ones. Polyrhythms and irregular accent shifts emerge in bold relief. So that’s how the piece is constructed!
Psychologically, however, not much happens in the listening experience. In Ligeti’s performance instructions—Molto vivace, vigoroso, molto ritmico—Biret places her emphasis primarily on the rhythmic aspect: overall, a more analytical interpretation. Erika Haase, on the other hand, realizes all the musical directives: virtuoso whirlwinds, athletic and powerful, yet precise, with an highly nuanced touch. The more sensuous, softer tone she coaxes from her instrument lends the music additional suppleness and elegance—and Ligeti placed great value on this. But what is particularly striking is the joyful, almost ecstatic exploitation of the illusory effects Ligeti composed into this piece. Are there two, three, or even four hands at work here? Do we hear two instruments? Two brilliantly interlocking musics? I admit that I have listened to Désordre—and not just this piece—in Haase’s interpretation again and again, without the fascination ever fading. How does she do it? To borrow the title of Étude No. 10, Der Zauberlehrling (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice): the pianist proves herself a gifted student of her master Ligeti. For she has understood that merely presenting the compositional structures and overcoming the technical challenges alone do not bring this piece to life. Idil Biret offers, so to speak, a study version of the first étude. Erika Haase, however, turns it into a pianistic trip where only the transgression of certain boundaries—including those of the supposedly correct rendering of every detail—allows the music to come into its own as music.
While Idil Biret certainly achieves convincing effects in the more slowly paced and "abstract" movements—such as in No. 5, Arc-en-ciel (Rainbow)—when it comes to the abysmal emotional depth of Autumn in Warsaw (No. 6) or the intricacies of The Devil’s Staircase (No. 13), Haase is undoubtedly preferable. Another advantage: while Biret limits herself to the completed Books 1 and 2, the current recording offers all the études Ligeti wrote up to 2001, including the first four from the as-yet-unfinished Book 3.
A CREATIVE PANORAMA: FROM EARLY TO LATE WORKS
But that’s not all. The first CD of this edition also includes Ligeti’s early piano works up to 1947, which were still strongly influenced by his Hungarian compatriots Bartók and Kodály.
Particularly interesting is the somewhat later Musica Ricercata (1951–1953). Composed in Hungary under the dictatorship of Stalin’s prescribed "Socialist Realism" (though "for the drawer"), it represents the attempt of the not-yet-thirty-year-old Ligeti, without direct contact with the Western avant-garde and in complete isolation, to create something new—through total reduction of means. The first piece is based on a single note, the second on two notes and the interval of a second, and so on. That this works speaks to the composer’s abilities. The later Ligeti is sometimes surprisingly present here.
The works from his middle creative period, all composed after his flight to the West, are of a different nature. Among them is the frenetic harpsichord piece Continuum (1968), which requires at least 16 notes per second (Haase even exceeds this!), and the Three Pieces for Two Pianos, so to speak the legitimate ancestors of the études. In its completeness, this recording (parts of which were previously released by col legno) is highly instructive. The listener will hardly miss the echoes of the young Ligeti in the late Ligeti, and vice versa. An impressive panorama unfolds: Ligeti’s path from classical modernity to the avant-garde—and beyond, "beyond avant-garde and postmodernism" (Constantin Floros).
In the four-hand piano works, Carmen Piazzini plays the second part. She is in no way inferior to Erika Haase—the fusion of the two players and instruments, for example in the Three Pieces, is completely successful. 20 points – A standout achievement!
Georg Henkel
Die Zeit –
Early works often contain more than their creators realize. In his twenties, Bach was so bold that he revisited his youthful inventions in old age; Brahms did the same. György Ligeti, at just twenty, wrote piano music that still sounds futuristic today. His Polyphonic Etude for four hands (1946) lasts barely two minutes, yet it features polytonal layering, accents that jut out like traces of an inaudible line from the texture, and—hovering above it all—a banal tinkling motif that feels like a sampled interjection, both ironic and mechanical. It offers a brief, cool glimpse from afar.
This is one of the small yet profound surprises on a double CD that encompasses all of Ligeti’s works for piano and harpsichord, opening a fascinating path through the universe of this artist. The early four-hand pieces were only published five years ago, and with them, Erika Haase (alongside duo partner Carmen Piazzini) embarks on a journey that demands respect for its technical rigors alone. Born in 1935, Haase played avant-garde music in the 1950s, later focusing more on Chopin and her professorship in Hanover—yet now, with Ligeti and in peak form, she traverses five decades once more. After the strict and strangely inescapable Musica Ricercata (1953), Continuum (1968) transports the listener to another planet entirely. By then, the composer had ascended to the forefront of his time with shimmering sound textures, and in this harpsichord piece, he transforms a Baroque instrument into a wave simulator. Erika Haase performs this masterpiece organically, with structural clarity and plasticity—not just perfectly, but with evident relish. Technically, this may well be the finest recording of Continuum: one would never have expected such color, depth, and plasticity from a Neupert harpsichord. (...)
Volker Hagedorn
Pforzheimer Zeitung –
Her manual precision is flawless, and her mastery of Ligeti’s piano works is audible in every measure. Haase has engaged deeply with Ligeti’s rhythmic language, ensuring clear lines and striking sonic contrasts (…). As a complete recording, these two CDs—enhanced by the naturally captured piano sound—are a valuable addition to Ligeti’s discography. (…)
tw
Piano News –
Erika Haase proves herself a Ligeti interpreter with an almost supernatural intuition in the great solo piano cycles. She breathes a vital swing into the miniatures of Musica Ricercata, so that, for example, the accelerando in the prime’s metamorphoses builds seamlessly in a two-beat rhythm. Even the three harpsichord works surprise with their confident rhythmic shaping—Continuum hums with the wingbeat frequency of a hummingbird.
She transforms the technical performance instructions of the Études—such as linking asynchronous motifs in Fém—into mischievous sprites leaping effortlessly across the keyboard. The Andante con moto of Cordes vides unfolds like a modal blues. Fast tempos, as in Désordre, she channels as a racing pulse. In short: she gives the complex scores of the three Études books organic breath. A superb edition.
Hans-Dieter Grünefeld
Osnabrücker Zeitung –
This double CD from Stuttgart-based label Tacet takes listeners through an entirely different cosmos: the world of György Ligeti. From the Five Pieces for Piano Four-Hands to the Canon from the third book of Études, the recording presents Ligeti’s complete output for piano and harpsichord. It unfolds 60 years of 20th-century musical history—from his early works in 1942, when Ligeti was still heavily influenced by Bartók and Kodály, through his first independent masterpieces like Musica Ricercata (1951–1953), to the Études, of which 18 exist so far. Pianists Erika Haase and Carmen Piazzini guide listeners through Ligeti’s oeuvre, which—despite its sonic confinement to keyboard instruments—remains tonally oriented, absorbing 20th-century movements while also drawing from musical traditions like the Baroque. The three harpsichord pieces exemplify this: Continuum, with its expansive textures, evokes minimalism, while the 1978 Passacaglia ungherese engages with traditional variation forms. And Hungarian Rock—as the name suggests—incorporates rock music elements, with ostinato basslines and a melodic structure built from musical formulas, or "riffs." A fascinating exploration of one of the most important figures in new music.
Ralf Döring
Darmstädter Echo –
The Hungarian-born György Ligeti, who has lived in Germany since 1969, has given many important impulses to New Music. A double CD featuring all of his piano and harpsichord works, performed with sovereignty and sensitivity by the Darmstadt-based pianists Erika Haase and Carmen Piazzini (released by Tacet, order number 129), now allows us to trace the development of the eighty-year-old composer over six decades through his keyboard music. The journey begins with the four-hand pieces (1942–50), which are still under the influence of Bartók and Kodály, leading to the two-hand Musica ricercata (1951–53), a reassessment of the handling of the twelve tones of the tempered system. The epochal harpsichord piece Continuum (1968) and the Three Pieces for Two Pianos (1976) open up a sublime art of coloristic-rhythmic transformations, reaching their peak in the—so far—eighteen études (1985–2001). Erika Haase succeeds in brilliantly and perceptively unfolding this highly demanding compendium of modern pianism.
tp
KulturSPIEGEL –
This double CD presents a meritorious complete recording of Ligeti's compositions for keyboard instruments. Erika Haase spans the arc from the earliest pieces Ligeti wrote during his composition studies to the most recent of the études, Canon from 2001. Even the two witty harpsichord pieces, Passacaglia ungherese and Hungarian Rock—which Ligeti himself did not consider full-fledged compositions—are included. Here, one can trace several exemplary developmental steps in Ligeti's music, and Erika Haase's playing radiates great concentration. At times, the pieces may sound a bit too angular and harsh, but they are always very well articulated. Her duo partner is Carmen Piazzini.
DK
Neue Zeitschrift für Musik –
(...) Erika Haase—together with her duo partner, the Argentine pianist Carmen Piazzini—is a true ambassador of György Ligeti’s pianistic life’s work.
Lutz Lesle
Pizzicato –
Just when we thought Pierre-Laurent Aimard could not be surpassed as a Ligeti interpreter, he now faces an unexpected challenge from a German pianist: Erika Haase! This is a name to remember, for with technical brilliance equal to Aimard’s, she presents—for the first time—the complete cycle of the Études, undeniably among the great piano works of the 20th century, performing all 18 composed to date.
As a pianist, Haase is even more sensitive than the Frenchman and at least as expressive, yet she adheres far more precisely to Ligeti’s instructions. Her rendition of Musica Ricercata is simply fabulous. Aimard, by contrast, seems bolder, cooler—perhaps even more dynamic and transparent. Together with her partner Carmen Piazzini, who operates on the same wavelength and even merges with her, Haase proceeds almost chronologically, beginning with the early four-hand pieces. The result is an overview of Ligeti’s complex, magnificent piano and harpsichord oeuvre that is as fascinating as it is instructive. Since these interpretations by Haase and Piazzini are also rich in expressivity, they gain an additional dimension that suits them perfectly.
Audiophile Audition –
(...)There′s no predicting his musical orbit. Yet within each piece the pattern is established quite early. He sets his own rules and follows them assidously. Most delightful are his three books of Etudes, written between 1985 and 2001. Pianist Erika Haase interprets their impish cross rhythms and winding themes with grace, subtlety, and sardonic creativity. Her interpretation of the erratic No.2 ("Cordes Vites"), with its hypnotic trailing off, is marvelous. The rumbling No. 14 (Columna Infinita), followed by the elegiac and almost sentimental No.15 (Pour Irina) are feats of staggering technique and control.
I hesitate to use the term, but nearly all of these pieces showcase Ligeti at his most accessible. You probably couldn′t come up with a better introduction.
Peter Bates
Klassik heute –
It’s not entirely fair (though Ligeti himself bears some responsibility) to compare his brilliant Études to Olympic disciplines or even the Tour de France, where the yellow jersey would almost always go to Pierre-Laurent Aimard—even by Ligeti’s own standards. But how dull interpretive history would be without surprises! Erika Haase, long a highly accomplished Ligeti interpreter, presents here a version of the Études that, while technically phenomenal, is accented quite differently. She is a touch more expressive, a touch more individualistic—perhaps even more "German" than Aimard. Yet with this clearer stamp of subjectivity, she opens a historical space that extends far beyond Debussy, reaching back to Beethoven and Bach (whereas with Aimard, one might have only spoken of Debussy and Bach). Haase perfectly and flawlessly realizes Ligeti’s tempo conceptions, the layered superstructures, and the depth of polyrhythmic texture—perhaps with a slightly more physical approach than Aimard, and (as in Fanfares) not always with the same dynamic transparency and gradation. But in return, she achieves such a consistent emotional depth in the music that she may well win over listeners who, until now, have kept their distance due to its acrobatic caprices. And that would be a truly magnificent achievement!
Hans-Christian v. Dadelsen
Bayern 4 Klassik Radio –
A span of nearly sixty years separates the earliest (1942) and most recent (2001) compositions—both, along with every piece György Ligeti wrote for piano and harpsichord in the intervening decades, are now gathered in this newly released two-CD edition. The formidable pianist Erika Haase, who studied under Eduard Steuermann and taught for many years at the Hanover University of Music and Drama from the mid-1970s onward, has achieved a triumph with this recording of Ligeti’s complete piano works, released just in time for the composer’s 80th birthday. (…)
With her interpretation of all 18 published piano études, Erika Haase demonstrates her pianistic and musical mastery in particularly striking fashion. The booklet includes a noteworthy tribute from the great Alfred Brendel, who aptly writes: “Few will possess the special skill, heroism, and devotion required to master Ligeti’s études. Hats off to Erika Haase. Her recording of these wonderful pieces lends them—especially the lyrical ones—emotional depth and soulful hues never heard before. Respect and congratulations.” Though Ligeti’s piano études, with their rhythmically polymetric and manual challenges, present a formidable test, they enjoy immense popularity even among pianists whose programs rarely feature contemporary music. This may be because, despite their complex technical innovations and their pulsating aesthetics inspired by non-European and scientific influences, they remain firmly rooted in the tradition of virtuoso pianism. “My ideal of piano music,” Ligeti once remarked, “is embodied by Chopin, Schumann, and Liszt, but also by much earlier keyboard music, such as Scarlatti. The common trait of this genuine piano music is that the musical structures seem to emerge directly from the keys and the positioning of the ten fingers…” Erika Haase’s highly musical and structurally transparent recording proves this to be true of Ligeti’s études as well. She need not hide behind any so-called reference recordings—quite the opposite.
Helmut Rohm