Album Review: Klaviersonate D960 Allegretto D915 3 Klavierstücke D946 by Maurizio Pollini
Alright, buckle up, because we’re diving into some serious Schubert realness here. This 1990 release from Deutsche Grammophon is like the sonic equivalent of sipping espresso at midnight—intense, brooding, and slightly pretentious in all the right ways. It’s Romantic-era classical music with a capital "R," performed by none other than Maurizio Pollini, who plays piano like he was born doing it (spoiler alert: he probably was).
Franz Schubert composed this stuff, and let me tell you, dude had feelings—a lot of them. The album includes tracks like Klaviersonate B-dur D 960, which sounds fancy until you realize it's just German for "Piano Sonata in B-flat major." But don’t let that fool ya; these pieces are anything but basic.
Let’s zoom in on two standout tracks:
First up, “Allegretto C-moll D 915.” Oh man, this one sneaks up on you like an emotional ninja. At first, it’s all calm and collected, but then BAM—it hits you with those minor chords that feel like someone whispering your secrets back to you. Pollini nails the balance between restraint and drama here, making every note land like a perfectly timed mic drop. You’ll remember this track because it’s got that bittersweet vibe—like eating chocolate cake while crying over a breakup. Weirdly satisfying yet utterly devastating.
Then there’s “Andante sostenuto” from Drei Klavierstücke D 946. If I could describe this piece in three words, they’d be: moody, dreamy, and straight-up hypnotic. Pollini makes the piano sing so softly you almost forget you’re listening to keys being pressed. Almost. It’s the kind of song that makes you stare out windows thinking deep thoughts about life—or maybe just what you’re having for dinner later. Either way, it sticks with you.
Now, here’s the kicker: despite its beauty, this album feels like a time machine. Not just to Schubert’s era, but also to the early '90s when CDs were still cool and people argued about whether digital recordings lacked soul (spoiler: they don’t). Listening to this record reminds me how timeless great music can be—even if it comes wrapped in layers of artistic snobbery.
Final thought? If Schubert were alive today, he’d probably write jingles for luxury car commercials. But thank goodness he didn’t, because instead, we’ve got gems like this. So grab a cup of coffee, put on your headphones, and prepare to have your heart gently crushed—and reassembled—by Maurizio Pollini’s magic fingers.
