Beethoven: Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 3.

Beethoven: Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 3. Mikhail Pletnev, piano; Christian Gansch, Russian National Orchestra. DG 477 6415.

Very, very good.

Late in 2006 pianist and conductor Mikhail Pletnev embarked on an ambitious project: To record all five of Beethoven's piano concertos and all nine of the symphonies over a period of several years. This recording of the Piano Concertos Nos. I and 3 is the first entry in the series.

Pletnev may look like a pretty somber guy from his photographs, but his playing is anything but dismal or gloomy. In both concertos, the man shows spark and zest in the outer movements, creating excitement and generally happy spirits galore, while displaying great sensitivity in the slow movements, where he is probably even better. Actually, those outer movements can sometimes seem a tad too fast in places, whereas he takes the Largos at a more conventional pace, yet with much feeling. The pianist's virtuosity is never in question, and Christian Gansch's conducting of the Russian National Orchestra is always sympathetic. I would have to place these performances in the top ranks of currently available renditions, right up there with Kovacevich (Philips), Perahia (Sony), Ashkenazy (Decca), Kempff (DG), and other notables.

DG made the recordings during live performances in September, 2006, and you would hardly know they were live. Occasionally, during quiet passages, you can hear some minor wheezing or shuffling of feet, and at the conclusion of the program the audience erupts into an unfortunate applause (edited out of the first piece). Otherwise, the sound is quiet, fairly close, warm, natural, and spread wide, with a realistic piano appearing not too big or too small in relation to the orchestra. The sonics may not have quite the clarity of a studio recording, but they are comfortable and pleasant.

Brahms: The Piano Concertos. Nelson Freire, piano; Riccardo Chailly, Gewandhaus Orchestra. Decca B0006588-02 (2-disc set).

When Brahms wrote his two piano concertos in 1854 and 1878, the public seemed indifferent and the critics were downright hostile. By the middle of the following century, however, both concertos were firmly established in the basic repertoire, having slowly been accepted as classics of their kind. I wonder if it isn't time to reassess their importance.

The First Concerto was Brahms's first full-scale undertaking in the orchestral field, and perhaps the work suffered from being too much in the shadow and under the influence of Beethoven. The whole first half of the opening movement is too big, stormy, craggy, wayward, and for me bombastic for the rest of the piece; then, when the second subject takes hold, the mood is so drastically changed, it comes not so much as a breath of fresh air as a huge question mark. The second movement is a bit too noble yet sentimental for my ears, but it comes off better than the first movement for its having a more stable center, a stronger focus. The final movement is my own favorite of the concerto, a notably lighter, more high-spirited affair than the tumult that precedes it, yet possessing an obvious seriousness, too. As for the Second Concerto, it seems like an entirely different musical world, one filled with more lyricism yet accumulated gravity as well.

Brazilian pianist Nelson Freire is a remarkably talented musician, whose most preeminent gift is his complete and utter naturalness, his unforced charm. His playing seems almost casual, it's so smoothly rendered. For this reason, I appreciated his work more in the Second Concerto than in the First, where in the Second he seems more at home. Then, too, he is accompanied quite accommodatingly by maestro Riccardo Chailly, and he's supported by one of the oldest and most refined orchestras in the world, the Leipzig Gewandhaus. For a new, two-disc set of the Brahms Concertos, one could hardly ask for more.

Unless it's the sound, which comes off as a tad odd. The jewel box says it was recorded live in 2005 and 2006, so I expected the usual distant miking and audience rustling. No such thing; it's recorded relatively close, and there is never a peep from the listeners. But it's too close. We're on top of the piano and orchestra, yet there is little compensating detail revealed. In fact, compared to four or five other Brahms Piano recordings I had on hand, this new one is closer and softer than any of the rest. I dunno; it's a nice set of performances, but do we really need more recordings of these pieces when we already have the likes of Giles, Curzon, Kovacevich, Pollini, and others doing them just as well or better? I rather think this set may appeal more to established fans of the musicians involved than to the general music-buying public.