Review By Paul Orgel ,Fanfare,January 2011
This disc is most welcome for the inclusion of four seldom-heard and very entertaining sets of variations based on themes by Beethoven’s Viennese contemporaries Haibel, Wranitsky, Salieri, and Süssmayr. The pieces come from Beethoven’s “works without opus” and were composed between 1796 and 1799. Ian Yungwook Yoo has chosen some of the more virtuosic of Beethoven’s many variation sets, others of which are more modest teaching pieces. The Six Variations, op. 76, on the Turkish march from The Ruins of Athens is encountered a little more often and the “Eroica” set is well known, but not recorded all that often. The least formulaic and most enjoyable of the lesser-known sets is the 12 Variations on the Russian Dance from Paul Wranitzky’s Waldmädchen. (Wranitzky’s Singspiel Oberon served as a model for Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte). Maybe a catchier title would entice more pianists to take up this piece, but it has not gone unnoticed by the likes of Ashkenazy, Gilels, and Cziffra, who recorded it.
Yoo plays with all of the energetic assurance that one would expect from a Juilliard-trained winner of several major competitions. He relates well to the tongue-in-cheek humor, and the typically Beethovenian combination of rambunctiousness and elegance in these display pieces. The only other performance that I know of these works is Alfred Brendel’s early Vox recording, and Yoo’s version surpasses it with more fluent, happier-sounding playing. (A John Ogden recording of some of them looks intriguing.)
Yoo’s “Eroica” Variations, while very efficiently played, are not as successful. The problem may lie with the work’s title. If it were not associated with the later “Eroica” Symphony and known only as “15 Variations on a Theme from the Ballet The Creatures of Prometheus,” pianists might be more likely to perceive that the work is in large part comic and not heroic in tone. (That is, if they aren’t misled by the connotations of “Prometheus” and concentrate on “ballet.”)
In the three short variations that add voices to the opening bass line, Yoo sounds earnest rather than playful, missing some possibilities of comic timing that are inherent in the staccatos, rests, and fermatas if treated simply. (He’s certainly capable of this kind of playing. Just listen to the opening of the Süssmayr variations to hear a gentler touch and more elegant timing.) The comic mood of the subsequent theme and 13 variations ranges from light-hearted to nose thumbing. Yoo plays them with speed and control but I hear few if any interpretive decisons—an unusual voicing, pedaling, or tempo choice—that sound like distinctive, personal touches. (Olli Mustonen’s quirky performance goes to an opposite, sometimes self-indulgent extreme, but its improvisatory quality is appropriate.)
With the serious, chromatic 14th variation in E♭-Minor, a transformation o