Whatever the reason for Rubinstein’s remarkably careless approach, it inevitably means that this performance cannot be regarded as an authoritative account, either of the concerto itself or of Rubinstein’s artistry. It is, in fact, far better listened to as if it were a recording of how the pianist might have given an exciting one-off live performance, warts and all. And, let me concede at once, this is a very thrilling account that, with fast tempos throughout, would have had a real audience, no doubt mentally singing along to “Full moon and empty arms” [Buddy Kaye and Ted Mossman’s hit popular song for Frank Sinatra based on the concerto’s big tune], jumping out of their seats with enthusiasm. …The artistic result [for the op.43 Rhapsody]was rather more satisfactory – indeed, Rubinstein’s restraint in the famous Variation XVIII makes it arguably even more effective than usual - but it is hard to see, from a purely musical point of view, why anyone would choose this version over any other. 

What was quite rightly picked up by reviewers at the time, however, was the excellent quality of the recorded sound from Abbey Road Studio no.1. One critic, quoted in Jonathan Summers’s very useful notes, rated it as “[s]tunning! ... almost too vivid … larger than life … I really had to go outside on the landing, where I liked it still better” and then suggested that this recording might even mark the point where “recorders are reaching the limit of what one can stand in the ordinary small drawing-room”. Apparently rather frightened by that, the records show that EMI engineers made a note to “reduce level of dangerous passages” before the discs were released!

Rubinstein only ever recorded one of Rachmaninoff’s solo piano pieces—the C sharp minor Prelude—and the version we have here was his second attempt. Again, it is a perfectly fine interpretation but not one to pick off the shelves in preference to many others. As an encore here, though. it does its job well.

Given, though, that, taken together, the concerto and the Rhapsody clock in at less than 52 minutes, ought we to have been expecting something more substantial than just an encore at that point? I know that this is a bargain price disc—but does a bargain cease to be a real one if the product itself is, unlike that Sinatra moon, not much more than half full?

Though many collectors already own the RCA Rubinstein Edition, they may gravitate to these restored-sound inscriptions made possible through Mark Obert-Thorn and the Naxos label. Artur Rubinstein (1887-1982) played relatively little Rachmaninov, considering the vast scope of his repertory, but he did inscribe the C Minor Concerto four times, and this, from 27 May 1946 at Carnegie Hall, features some fast tempos and luxuriant tone. Working with the amiable Vladimir Golschmann (1893-1972), Rubinstein finds a conductor who accommodates the several deviations from the composer’s text, especially as the left-hand part of the last movement often eludes Rubinstein’s technique. In the 1950s, Rubinstein encountered similar problems in recording Rachmaninov with Fritz Reiner, and more than one Chicago Symphony musician made invidious comparisons to their work with Kapell, with whom music had proceeded more smoothly. Still, the 1946 performance exudes some fierce moments of excitement, and Rubinstein knows how to graduate a climax for maximum effect.

The Rhapsody recording dates from 16-17 September 1947 for HMV on Abbey Road, evincing a high level of sound from the keyboard, upon which Rubinstein insisted. Rubinstein takes the three major sections of the Rhapsody rather programmatically, as a developing love-scene of the great violinist, who celebrates his dazzling technique, his amatory potential, and his contest with the forces of death. Despite the several takes required to complete the project, the performance proceeds seamlessly with its edits, the elan, speed, and excitement of the realization primary. The justly famous 18th Variation becomes a paean to both Rubinstein and the composer’s ability to find dazzling melody in an inversion of the A Minor Caprice. The equally ubiquitous Prelude in C-sharp Minor, the one solo piece by the composer Rubinstein recorded (twice, once in 1936 and this from 11 December 1950) is enjoys a taut, fast-paced lyricism, what Rubinstein once characterized as “brazen sweetness.”