-- Anthony Tommasini, New York Times, 01/05/2009

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I first encountered Nadia Reisenberg's 1955/57 Chopin Nocturne and Mazurka cycles for the Westminster label via audiophile cassette reissues released by Connoisseur Society/In-Sync. Fine as these sounded, Seth Winner's digital transfers for Bridge reveal a fuller and more present sonic representation of the somewhat dry and close-up yet clearly reproduced originals. Upon the Nocturnes' initial release, the late Harold C. Schonberg criticized Reisenberg's objective, sometimes-pedantic approach. Granted, this applies vis-ŕ-vis the two unyielding, monochromatic E-flat Nocturne interpretations (Op. 9 No. 2 and Op. 55 No. 2), and regarding Op. 62 No. 1's rather unsexy trills. However, the brooding, introspective D-flat (Op. 27 No. 2) is anything but metronomic, while Op. 15 Nos. 2 and 3, Op. 48 No. 1, and Op. 72 No. 1 stand out for Reisenberg's sensitive melodic inflection and subtle, judiciously proportioned rubato.

Reisenberg may not be one for lyrical charm and felicitous color, yet the specificity and shape she brings to Chopin's arpeggiated accompaniments intensifies the music's contrapuntal and harmonic interest, as you'll hear in Op. 15 No. 1's tumultuous central episode and in Op. 27 No. 1's murky, foreboding opening section. She also shares Arthur Rubinstein's curious insistence that Op. 32 No. 1's final chord is B major rather than the correct B minor.

Compared to Rubinstein's natural singing tone and sprinting élan, Reisenberg's Mazurkas generally are more angular and hard-edged, but not without poetic reserves. Notwithstanding occasional rhythmic stiffness (Op. 7 No. 1's over-articulated melody, Op. 68 No. 2's unsettled basic pulse, and the earthbound Op. 50 No. 1), Reisenberg is sympathetic toward the wide range of moods and styles Chopin brought to the Mazurka idiom. She plays down Op. 24 No. 4's inherent athleticism in order to let the contrapuntal writing sink in, yet relishes the elemental swagger of Op. 56 No. 2's bass lines and the posthumous C major's quirky modality. The pianist delivers the goods when the music calls for lilt and delicacy (Op. 17 No. 4 and Op. 33 No. 4), as well as an eccentric detail or two, such as the strange right-hand arpeggiations in Op. 56 No. 1 that nearly throw the left-hand melody off kilter.

The rarely-heard Allegro de concert's unwieldy difficulties pose no problems for Reisenberg as she conveys the music's awkwardly deployed "concerto without orchestra" textural shifts with maximum drama and minimum pedal in the manner of Arrau's recording of similar vintage. The Barcarolle suffers from choppy lines and a lack of flow, but the opposite holds true regarding Reisenberg's unorthodox yet mesmerizing tempo modifications in the Berceuse.

However, a previously unissued B minor sonata from a November 21, 1947 Carnegie Hall recital counts among the most ardent and committed readings of this warhorse I know. The ease and inevitability with which Reisenberg shapes transitions helps her sectionalized treatment of the first movement cohere. The Scherzo's outer sections fly like the wind with just about every note in place, buttressed by stinging left-hand accents. Tremendous finger power and poise offset Reisenberg's slightly disconcerting speed-ups and slow-downs in the Finale. However, the pianist reaches her expressive peak in a fluid, three-dimensional, gorgeously sung-out Largo. Loving and insightful booklet notes from the pianist's son Robert Sherman add an appropriately personal touch to this welcome reissue.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com