Paul Lewis BEETHOVEN "Für Elise" - Bagatelles Opp. 33, 119 & 126

"FÜR ELISE" - BAGATELLES Opp. 33, 119 & 126

Paul Lewis WEBER - SCHUBERT Sonatas

Even if both of them were destined to die tragically of illness at a very early age (Weber at 39, Schubert just 31!), the two composers on this disc were healthy enough when they wrote these works, and were even beginning to taste success. Except that it was not to the piano sonata that they owed their fame: not without a twinkle in his eye, Paul Lewis has coupled their works in this genre in order to paint a different and highly elegant portrait of two musical dramatists who were emblematic figures of Austro-German Romanticism.

Mark Padmore / Paul Lewis SCHUBERT Winterreise

Ah, this journey! How many have made it, sincerely and imaginatively, two setting out as nearly as possible as one! So many on records too, following the elusive track as with torchlight concentrated upon it. Yet, of all, I cannot think of one (not even Fischer-Dieskau in his 1965 recording with Jörg Demus) that leads more faithfully to the cold comfort of its end. And when we get there in this performance, what an end it is!

The journey begins with ever such a slight whine high in the voice, as with a calm acceptance of pain. The piano abstains from jabbing sforzandi to underline what the chords make plain enough, instead insisting calmly on its left-hand legato. The melting major-key modulation is all affection: no hint of bitterness in the sentiment that his passing footsteps should not disturb the faithless beloved’s sleep. But outside in the open, stillness and turbulence alternate like the moods of the weather-vane. And so throughout much of the trek the self-confiding of the loner holds in check the utterance of emotion as the icy surface of the river conceals the running water beneath. Even so the pain will out, as it does in the last phrase, “ihr Bild dahin”, of “Erstarrung”.

On we go, lulled and tormented by the magic music-box of “Frühlingstraum”, till the tragic chord before “so elend nicht” in “Einsamkeit” brings a dreadful reality into focus. The deceptive sweetness of “Die Krähe”, the giddy disorientation of “Letzte Hoffnung”, the subdued feverish excitements of “Täuschung” find an almost holy stability in “Das Wirtshaus”, but still the external world exists, felt as almost an intrusion in “Mut”. And soon we meet the organ-grinder. And his secrets must on no account be revealed by reviewer or arts-gossip. And the listener must wait, out of respect to this marvellous partnership of Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis, until time can be taken for it, alone and uninterrupted, to accompany them on the journey through to its unearthly end. (John Steane/ Gramophone)

Paul Lewis / Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra / Daniel Harding JOHANNES BRAHMS Piano Concerto No. 1 - Ballades Op. 10

Brahms planned his First Piano Concerto as a sonata for two pianos, but the music’s stormy grandeur soon needed bigger forces. He dreamed of composing a symphony, but the Beethoven’s shadow loomed too large, so the concerto plays out a massive wrangle: an intense, self-questioning young artist meets the corpulent orchestral sound of Brahms’s future symphonies. Some pianists go one way or the other in interpretation; Paul Lewis masterfully spans both. His account has clarity, muscle and steely pride, but also intimacy, vulnerability and volatility: the combination is magnetic. Conductor Daniel Harding goes for full-out symphonic bulk from the start and his Swedish orchestra sounds hearty and brooding – fuzzier-edged than Lewis’s metallic attack, but generally the partnership works. As a bonus, Lewis plays Brahms’s four Ballades Op 10; quiet, urgent and full of singing lines. (Kate Molleson / The Guardian)

Paul Lewis MUSSORGSKY Pictures At An Exhibition SCHUMANN Fantasie Op. 17

The pairing of the piano version of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition with Schumann's Fantasie, Op. 17, here is a little odd. The supplied notes by Roman Hinke point to an explanation involving the two works being less programmatic than they first seemed; Schumann discarded descriptive titles for his work, and Mussorgsky's little pieces, Hinke contends, are less closely tied to the paintings by Viktor Hartmann referred to in the work's title than generally thought. It's questionable whether this really holds up: Mussorgsky's framing movements really evoke a great gate at Kiev. But leave this concept aside and it's a satisfying performance of, especially, the Mussorgsky. Part of the reason Pictures at an Exhibition is so much more often heard in Ravel's orchestration is that it's a pretty unconventional piano work, sort of irregularly hewn out of musical stone. In its own time, even in Russia, it must have seemed all the more unconventional, and Lewis gets this radical quality even as he delivers a rather precise performance. In his hands the work feels more modern than Romantic, and one feels that he contributes something to the musical dialogue surrounding this work that even casual classical music listeners know, yet that remains imperfectly understood. The Teldex Studio sound from Harmonia Mundi perfectly complements the music's edgy quality. (James Manheim)

Paul Lewis SCHUBERT The Late piano Sonatas D. 784, 958, 959, 960

Paul Lewis spent much of the two-year period from 2011 to 2013 performing and recording the late piano music of Franz Schubert, focusing on pieces written during the last six years of Schubert's life, from 1822 to 1828. After previous instalments in the series which included various sonatas and other pieces such as the 'Wanderer' Fantasy and the Impromptus, we now have a new volume of four sonatas, including the final three which were written in the last months of Schubert's life.

The significance of the chosen time period is that it was in 1822 that Schubert contracted syphilis, and for Lewis this marked a complete change in the composer's musical voice. You can hear this, I think, in the A minor Sonata D784, composed in February 1823, and therefore the first of the sonatas to be written after his diagnosis. Although usually when one thinks of the late Schubert piano sonatas, it's often just the final three that come to mind, I'm glad that Lewis has also included this sonata, as it's a wonderful piece, full of tragic, poignant nobility.

He really brings out the heaving turmoil that is present from the very first bar, and his playing acquires an appropriately heavy tread in the initial statement of the first movement's principal theme. A good proportion of this movement is in bare, unharmonised octaves, and Lewis plays up this bleakness to great effect. It's a powerfully affecting performance.

Alfred Brendel, Lewis's mentor and a renowned Schubert interpreter in his own right, described the Sonata in C minor D958 as “the most neurotic sonata Schubert wrote”, and that is an aspect that Lewis seems not afraid to confront, notably in the last movement, a kind of nightmarish tarantella. Furthermore, his way with rubato in the first movement is quite magical, and his always-thoughtful dynamics and phrasing highlight the unexpected harmonic twists and turns that Schubert throws at the listener.

The range of colours that Lewis draws from one bar to the next is superb; soft, tender lyricism seamlessly giving way to crisp, immaculately clean passagework. In the Adagio second movement, Lewis judges the transitions back and forth between the sublime opening melody and the somewhat stormier sections perfectly.

While there's no doubt about the virtuosity and authority of Lewis's playing, there's certainly nothing superficially flashy about his performance either. I remember reading an interview with him in which he mentioned that when he attends concerts, he sometimes feels the focus is more on the performer rather than the music they are playing, noting that this is something he is constantly at pains to avoid. I definitely feel he has achieved that here: throughout these sonatas I sensed a deeply considered performance where the primary concern was merely letting this extraordinary music speak for itself.

The set is completed with a second disc containing Lewis's previous recordings (from 2002) of the final two sonatas, D959 and D960. Although one might argue that it would have been nice to have had new recordings of these as well, I can understand why Lewis didn't feel the need to do so, as these are fine performances, particularly of D960, where he beautifully captures the serenity of the first movement. In any case, the album has been priced as if it were just a single disc, so especially if you don't already own the final two sonatas, this is an absolute bargain, with masterful recordings of all four works. Thoroughly recommended!

Paul Lewis BEETHOVEN Diabelli Variationen

The British pianist Paul Lewis, who has significantly contributed to the Beethoven discography with his probing, fresh and finely played recordings of the 32 piano sonatas and the 5 piano concertos, continues his survey of the composer’s major works with the “Diabelli” Variations.

The technical demands of this piece are hardly the only challenge. At a basic level what is a pianist to make of this elusive and unconventional work? In 1819 the savvy publisher Anton Diabelli invited the leading composers of his day to create variations on a bouncy little waltz he had composed, which would be published in a set. Intrigued, Beethoven took up the challenge but then turned to writing his last piano sonatas. In 1822, still captivated by the dumpy waltz tune, he set about composing what would turn into a 55-minute set of 33 variations, including a complex, hyperdriven fugue.

Some of the variations poke fun at the waltz by exaggerating little rhythmic riffs or ornamental turns of phrase; others spin the all-purpose theme into mystical flights. Is the piece a big tease? Or is Beethoven showing off his ability to fashion sublime music from rudimentary material?

Mr. Lewis keeps all options open in his elegant, sly and richly characterized performance, providing rollicking humor in the clattering 16th variation, infectious exuberance in the cascading 18th variation, and mystery in the harmonically searching time-stands-still variation that follows. Mr. Lewis takes a bracing tempo in the fugue, played with punchy attacks and admirable clarity. His way with the flighty, delicate final minuet variation is especially beguiling. Many of his tempos are on the restrained side, to good effect. The exception is the original waltz, which is a little hard-driven and breathless.

All in all, Mr. Lewis again proves himself a major Beethoven interpreter. (Anthony Tommasini)

Steven Osborne / Paul Lewis SCHUBERT Piano Duets

'In this repertoire Lewis and Osborne are as one, touch and tone indistinguishable from one another (they swap Primo and Secondo roles throughout, apparently, though it’s impossible to tell who is playing which in what), playing with a delicious fluency and obvious affection that is a joy to hear. They open with the Allegro in A minor in a finely graded and characterised reading that puts Jenö Jandó and Illona Prunyi (12/92), for example, in the shade. To conclude, there is the great F minor Fantasie in which the incomparable opening is leant a hint of optimism, even jauntiness, before the subsequent journey to a pathetic conclusion. This is a reading that compares favourably with the benchmark recording by Radu Lupu and Murray Perahia (3/86) … this is a Schubert disc to return to and live with' (Gramophone)

'For those who were fortunate enough to be there, and just as importantly for those who missed it, this disc captures all the exuberance, finesse and camaraderie with which Steven Osborne and Paul Lewis gave their recital of Schubert duets at London’s Wigmore Hall in January. Shortly afterwards they went into the studios to record the same six works, and the result is a pure delight … The quality that shines through in these performances is the way in which Schubert so intuitively judged the special medium of the piano duet. The music is specifically imagined with four hands in mind, at times taxing from the point of view of the two pianists amicably accommodating and coordinating with one another but always with the sense that the potential for varied sonority, expressive breadth and, without doubt, a degree of fun is being broadly and knowledgeably exploited. The F minor Fantasie enshrines some of Schubert’s most sublime ideas, but his range throughout embraces vigour, subtlety, daring, charm, delicacy and drama. Osborne and Lewis have full measure of its inventive scope on a disc of outstanding, enlivening musicianship' (The Daily Telegraph)

'The Fantasie in F minor would earn its place in any list of Schubert's supreme masterpieces. Osborne and Lewis predictably reserve their finest, most perceptive playing for the Fantasie, giving its infinitely regretful main theme a different shading on each of its appearances and colouring the work's harmonic shifts and modulations impeccably. None of their performances could be described as route, though, even when the music is less than top drawer, and in works such as the A flat major Variations and the deceptively modest-sounding Allegro in A minor, both of which approach the Fantasie in scale, they find emotional depths and dramas that unmistakably identify both as products of Schubert's final year' (The Guardian)

Paul Lewis / Jiří Bělohlávek / BBC Symphony Orchestra BEETHOVEN Complete Piano Concertos

With this three-disc album of Beethoven’s piano concertos Paul Lewis complements his earlier set of the 32 sonatas and also his appearances at the Proms this summer where for the first 
time all five concertos will be played by a single artist. So may I say at once that Harmonia Mundi’s eagerly awaited set is a superlative achievement and that Lewis’s partnership with Jiří Bělohlávek is an ideal match of musical feeling, vigour and refinement. True, for aficionados of eccentricity – even of brilliant eccentricity – from the likes of Gould, Pletnev and Mustonen, Lewis may at times seem overly restrained but the rewards of such civilised, musically responsible and vital playing seem to me infinite. Above all there is no sense of an artist looking over his shoulder to see what other pianists have come up with. Throughout the cycle Lewis is enviably and naturally true to his own distinctive lights, his unassuming but shining musicianship always paramount. His stylistic consistency can make the singling-out of this or that detail irrelevant, yet how could I fail to mention Lewis’s and Bělohlávek’s true sense of the Allegro con brio in the First Concerto, in music-making that is vital but never driven? Less rugged than, say, Serkin, such playing is no less personal and committed. In the central Largo Lewis achieves a quiet, hauntingly sustained poise and eloquence, while in the finale his crisp articulation sends Beethoven’s early ebullience dancing into captivating life.

The same virtues characterise the Second Concerto; but when it comes to the Third, Lewis and Bělohlávek (and one is always aware of a true partnership) hit a more controversial note. The first movement is less con brio than from 
most, as if to emphasise Beethoven’s step towards a darker region of the imagination (what EM Forster memorably called “Beethoven’s C minor of life”), while the finale is thought-provoking in its restraint. Yet once again Lewis’s comprehensive mastery is devoid of all overt display, and in the Fourth Concerto his playing achieves a rare nimbleness, affection and transparency. And if there are those who, again, wish for a higher degree of drama and assertion, others will recognise an artist who, in Charles Rosen’s words, achieves so much while appearing to do so little (pianists such as Lipatti, Solomon and Clara Haskil come to mind). At the same time the Fourth Concerto contains some delightful surprises. Lewis’s ad libitum flourish at 6'12" in the finale provides an exuberant touch, as do his deft and witty arpeggiations of the chords just before the concerto’s homecoming. Here in particular is an engaging and playful rejoinder to the Andante con moto’s introspection, the entire performance delectably animated and light-fingered. Nor is there a hint of strain or strenuous characterisation in the Fifth Concerto. Lewis’s first entry in the Adagio has a slight catch in the voice, as it were, to register the music’s sublimity, and his overall approach is devoid of the tub-thumping rhetoric familiar from too many Emperors.

And so, all in all, these records take their place among the finest Beethoven piano concerto performances so that even when you recall beloved issues by Wilhelm Kempff, Emil Gilels, Radu Lupu and Murray Perahia (to name but four), Lewis ensures that you return refreshed and with a renewed sense of Beethoven’s range and beauty. Personally I would never want to be without any of those previous discs, nor without Argerich’s never-to-be-completed recordings (sadly she considers the Fourth Concerto outside her scope; can her friends and musical partners Nelson Freire and Stephen Kovacevich persuade her otherwise?). Balance and sound are natural and exemplary, leaving us to look forward to Lewis’s forthcoming CD of the Diabelli Variations, for Brendel the greatest of all keyboard works. This is a cycle to live with and revisit. 


Bryce Morrison

BEETHOVEN # 4 Paul Lewis

“Every one of Paul Lewis’s now-complete Beethoven Sonatas series has been selected as an Editor’s Choice. Deservedly so. This final instalment boasts all the virtues of its predecessors – a pianist nimble of mind and fingers, penetrating interpretations delivered with just the right lightness of touch and bold imaginative leaps that can leave the listener staggered.” (Gramophone Magazine)

“Paul Lewis ends his Beethoven sonata cycle for Harmonia Mundi with another wide-ranging collection; like its predecessors, it contains some outstanding performances and some that do not quite reach the same exalted standard. The major disappointments here come in two of the best known sonatas. Op 81a, Les Adieux, seems far less crisp and precise than one would expect, while, after a suitably pellucid opening, the E major Op 109 becomes unexpectedly feisty and never quite regains its poise. To set against that are a beautifully paced and unfolded account of Op 28 in D, the so-called Pastorale, and impressively thoughtful performances of the two most challenging works here: the A flat Op 110 and C minor Op 111. In Op 110, Lewis creates a glowing soundworld out of which every element seems to take shape perfectly naturally, while in Op 111, he plays down the drama of the first movement to integrate it more completely with the transcendental variations that follow. The transition from one to the other is perfectly managed so that they become a seamless whole, and a perfect finale to the entire enterprise.” (The Guardian, 2nd May 2008)

“At times in the towering final sonatas Lewis perhaps holds too much in reserve. Greater firepower could only enhance Beethoven’s visionary thinking, even when the marking for No 30’s finale indicates “mezza voce”, a half-voice. But this reserve also leads to masterful moments. There’s No 15’s balm and calm, plus the fluent grace in the Op 49 duo – pedagogic trifles for which any overkill would be fatal...buy Lewis’s Beethoven with confidence, and listen and explore for many years to come.” (The Times, 2nd May 2008)

“Somehow, Lewis's quiet and distinctive voice can lift even the most familiar phrase on to another sphere.” (Gramophone Magazine, June 2008)

“…appropriately enough this final volume ends with the last sonata triptych of Opp. 109-111. Lewis plays all three works with characteristic warmth and beauty of tone, and you're not likely to hear them more sensitively and intelligently done.” (BBC Music Magazine, June 2008)

“Only an extended essay could do justice to the fourth and final volume of Paul Lewis's Beethoven sonata cycle… You may well cherish your beloved sets by Schnabel, Kempff and Brendel (to name but three), but Lewis surely gives you the best of all possible worlds; one devoid of idiosyncrasy yet of a deeply personal musicianship.
Where else can you hear Op 10 No 2's madcap finale given with such unfaltering lucidity and precision? Try Op 28's finale for an ultimate pianistic and musical finesse or the opening Allegro where Lewis makes you conscious of how the music's gracious and mellifluous unfolding is momentarily clouded by mystery and energised by drama. In such hands the final pages of Op 111 do indeed become 'a drift towards the shores of Paradise' (Edward Sackville-West) and throughout all these performances you sense how 'the great effort of interpretation' (Michael Tippett) is resolved in playing of a haunting poetic commitment and devotion. Such playing is hardly for lovers of histrionics or inflated rhetoric, but rather for those in search of other deeper, more refreshing attributes, for Beethoven's inner light and spirit.
Somehow Lewis's quiet and distinctive voice can lift even the most familiar phrase on to another sphere and his playing throughout, shorn of accretion, makes all these sonatas shine with their first radiance and eloquence. Admirably recorded, this three-disc set is crowned with a scholarly and illuminating essay by Jean-Paul Montagnier.” (Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010)

BEETHOVEN # 3 Paul Lewis

“As always, Paul Lewis offers playing of rare insight and intelligence. He is just as much at home in the dazzling brilliance of the C major Sonata, Op. 2 No. 3...as in the graceful lyricism of the concluding rondo from Op. 7” (BBC Music Magazine, November 2007)

“These performances are a transparent act of musical love and devotion. Nothing is exaggerated yet virtually everything is included. Of all the modern versions of the sonatas (an there are many either complete or in progress), Lewis's is surely the most eloquent and persuasive.” (Gramophone Magazine, November 2007)

“There isn’t a bar in any of these sonatas that seem ill-considered or hastily characterised; if tempos are generally on the measured side, Lewis’s sense of structure and constant awareness of what the harmonic rhythm is doing allows him to generate tension in the most subtle ways.” (The Guardian)

“Paul Lewis's third volume of his Beethoven sonata cycle once more shows him playing down all possible roughness and angularity in favour of a richly humane and predominantly lyrical beauty. Again, here is nothing of that glossy, impersonal sheen beloved of too many young pianists, but a subtly nuanced perception beneath an immaculate surface.
His technique, honed on many ultra-demanding areas of the repertoire allows him an imaginative and poetic latitude only given to a musical elite. Telescoped phrasing, rapid scrambles for security, waywardness and pedantry he gladly leaves to others, firmly but gently guiding you to the very heart of the composer. His Appassionata is characterised by muted gunfire, as if the sonata's warlike elements were heard from a distance. Yet the lucidity with which he views such violence easily makes others' more rampant virtuosity become sound and fury, signifying little. His way, too, with the teasing toccata-like finales of Nos 12 and 22 is typical of his lyrical restraint, a far cry, indeed, from a more overt brilliance. How superbly he captures Beethoven's over-the-shoulder glance at Haydn, his great predecessor, yet gives you all of his forward-looking Romanticism in the early F minor Sonata (No 1). Again, how many pianists could achieve such unfaltering poise and sensitivity in No 4's Largo, con granespressione? These performances are a transparent act of musical love and devotion. Nothing is exaggerated yet virtually everything is included. Of all the modern versions of the sonatas, Lewis's is surely the most eloquent and persuasive. And, as in previous issues, Harmonia Mundi's sound is of demonstration quality.” (Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010)

BEETHOVEN # 2 Paul Lewis

“Paul Lewis is a serious artist, and the quality of his playing, beautifully captured by Harmonia Mundi's engineers, is of a very high standard throughout. Particularly fine is the Waldstein Sonata… a performance that can stand comparison with the very best. His Hammerklavier is tremendously impressive, leaving us in no doubt of the music's weight and grandeur.” (BBC Music Magazine, November 2006)

“Throughout all 10 sonatas Lewis's unswerving authority thinly veils his profound immersion in the very wellspring of Beethoven's creative genius. Even the composer's relatively carefree or lightweight gestures are invested with a drama and significance that illuminate them in a novel but wholly natural light. Here is one of those rare pianists who can charge even a single note or momentary pause with drama and significance and convince you, for example, that his lyrical, often darkly introspective way with Beethoven's pulsing con brio brilliance in the Waldstein Sonata is a viable, indeed, memorable alternative to convention.
So, too, is his way with the Hammerklavier, that most daunting of masterpieces, where he tells us that even when the composer is at his most elemental he remains deeply human and vulnerable.
Not for him Schnabel's headlong attempt to obey Beethoven's wild first-movement metronome mark; nor does he view the vast spans of the Adagio as 'like the icy heart of some remote mountain lake' (JWN Sullivan) but rather a place of ineffable sadness. And here as elsewhere he is able to relish every detail of the composer's ever-expanding argument while maintaining a flawless sense of line and continuity.
Faced with such excellence a mere critic can only abandon paper and pencil and listen to this heroic but deeply moving young artist with awe and amazement. These are early days but Paul Lewis's superbly recorded and presented Beethoven may well turn out to be the most musicianly and ultimately satisfying of all recorded Beethoven piano sonata cycles.” (Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010)

BEETHOVEN # 1 Paul Lewis

Paul Lewis’s Beethoven sonata cycle shows him playing down all possible roughness and angularity in favour of a richly humane and predominantly lyrical beauty. Again, here is nothing of that glossy, impersonal sheen beloved of too many young pianists, but a subtly nuanced perception beneath an immaculate surface.

His technique, honed on many ultra-demanding areas of the repertoire, allows him an imaginative and poetic latitude only given to a musical elite. Telescoped phrasing, rapid scrambles for security, waywardness and pedantry he gladly leaves to others, firmly but gently guiding you to the very heart of the composer. His Appassionata is characterised by muted gunfire, as if the sonata’s warlike elements were heard from a distance. Yet the lucidity with which he views such violence easily makes others’ more rampant virtuosity become sound and fury, signifying little. His way, too, with the teasing toccata-like finales of Nos 12 and 22 is typical of his lyrical restraint, a far cry, indeed, from a more overt brilliance. How superbly he captures Beethoven’s over-the-shoulder glance at Haydn, his great predecessor, yet gives you all of his forward-looking Romanticism in the early F minor Sonata (No 1). Again, how many pianists could achieve such unfaltering poise and sensitivity in No 4’s Largo, con gran espressione?

Sometimes his warmth and flexibility suggest Beethoven seen, as it were, through Schubert’s eyes (the finale to Op 31 No 1), and he often suggests a darker, more serious side to the composer’s laughter and high jinks. But he plays Beethoven’s humorous afterthought at the close of the Op 31 No 1’s Allegro vivace as to the manner born and his presto coda to the finale becomes a joyous chase. His way with the Tempest Sonata is a reminder, too, of his outwardly relaxed mastery, quite without a sign of a skewed or telescoped phrase and with page after page given with a quiet but superbly focused intensity. His Adagio is gravely processional, his finale acutely yet subtly and unobtrusively characterised.

Even the composer’s relatively carefree or lightweight gestures are invested with a drama and significance that illuminate them in a novel but wholly natural light. Here is one of those rare pianists who can charge even a single note or momentary pause with drama and significance and convince you, for example, that his lyrical, often darkly introspective way with Beethoven’s pulsing con brio brilliance in the Waldstein Sonata is a viable, indeed, memorable alternative to convention.

So, too, is his way with the Hammerklavier, that most daunting of masterpieces, where he tells us that even when the composer is at his most elemental he remains deeply human and vulnerable. Not for him Schnabel’s headlong attempt to obey Beethoven’s wild first-movement metronome mark; nor does he view the vast spans of the Adagio as ‘like the icy heart of some remote mountain lake’ (JWN Sullivan) but rather a place of ineffable sadness. And here as elsewhere he is able to relish every detail of the composer’s ever-expanding argument while maintaining a flawless sense of line and continuity.

These performances are a transparent act of musical love and devotion. Nothing is exaggerated yet virtually everything is included. Of all the modern versions of the sonatas, Lewis’s is surely the most eloquent and persuasive. Harmonia Mundi’s sound is of demonstration quality.