Eric Zuber & Boris Slutsky: Two for Rachmaninoff
Azica Records

Two for Rachmaninoff is, it turns out, as much about the relationship between its pianists as the works performed. Eric Zuber began his studies with Boris Slutsky when he was eleven years old and continued studying with the pianist for twenty years, from his pre-college days at the Peabody Preparatory to the completion of his doctorate. To say that Zuber's musicianship has been irrevocably shaped by his training under Slutsky would be a huge understatement, and that their Rachmaninoff set is their first recorded collaboration makes the project all the more special. The high calibre of playing confirms that the teacher-student relationship has grown into a mutually enhancing partnership.

Critical to collaborations of this kind is an agreed-upon approach, which in this case the two thankfully shared: according to Zuber, their years together led them “to naturally reach many of the same musical conclusions.” That the two were already on the same page gave them a huge head start when tackling Rachmaninoff's two-piano works, which pose considerable challenges. The composer's complete major works for two pianos are tackled (except for Russian Rhapsody, which he wrote while still a student at the Moscow Conservatory), the Suite No.1 in G minor, Op.5, Suite No.2 in C major, Op.17,and Symphonic Dances, Op. 45, the result a grand tour of Rachmaninoff''s world and a tour-de-force of pianistic artistry.

While each work bears its creator's signature, differences are evident. The Tchaikovsky-dedicated first suite exudes a pronounced lyricism, the second manifests richness and exuberance, and the dances, the composer's final major work, accentuates the maturity of his writing and rhythmic drive. As showcases for the pianists' technical command and sensitivity as interpreters, this resonant trilogy of performances goes a long way towards qualifying as definitive, particularly when the ensemble playing is so accomplished. The composer's material is easy to embrace when it's filled with lyrical melodies. It's thus no great surprise that songs made popular by Frank Sinatra (“Full Moon and Empty Arms”) and Eric Carmen (“All By Myself”) originated from themes in his Second Piano Concerto. Romanticism and sincerity of expression came naturally to Rachmaninoff and undoubtedly account in a major way for his music's enduring appeal.

Composed in 1893 and originally titled Fantasie-Tableaux, the first suite was described by Rachmaninoff as “a series of musical pictures,” its four movements inspired by poems by Mikhail Lermontov, Lord Byron, Fyodor Tyutchev, and Aleksey Khomyakov. The suite begins seductively with a tender “Barcarolle” and the pianists coordinating resplendently. The movement alternates between unison and contrapuntal passages, both executed with exceptional poise. The music's romantic aura intensifies as the first movement gives way to the plangent “La nuit ... L'amour” (The night ... The love) and then deepens even further for “Les Larmes” (The tears). Resolving the work on a towering note is the ultra-declamatory “Pâques” (Easter).

The second suite, written in Italy in early1901, eschews literary connections and is distinguished by clear stylistic contrasts in its four parts. A robust, high-energy “Introduction”asserts its presence with authority, the players again navigating their way through the intricate material with impressive fluidity. Delivered at an even faster clip is the dizzying “Valse,” though it does ease into a calmer episode before resuming its hellacious pace. Gentle and breathless expressions intertwine until the open-hearted “Romance” arrives, bringing with it the work's most affecting and vulnerable moments. Similar to the first suite, the second concludes with an animated movement, in this case a rhythmically charged “Tarantelle.”

The 1940-composed Symphonic Dances was created as both an orchestral suite and two-piano version, the latter of which was first performed by Rachmaninoff and fellow virtuoso Vladimir Horowitz at an informal party gathering. Quotations found their way into the writing, including the hymn “Blessed art thou, Lord” from the composer's 1915 choral work All-Night Vigil. A martial pulse drives the stern “Non allegro” movement, with its metronomic thrust calling both Prokofiev and Stravinsky to mind. Rachmaninoff also makes room, however, in this eleven-minute movement for a touchingly plaintive passage that might be the recording's most rapturous. After the central part's sardonic and rather Weill-esque waltz, the work ends with a mercurial and also extended third movement that moves between dynamic affirmations, twilight calm, and rhapsodic splendour.

November 2025