Alla Marcia

Marches are rousing. That's why you'll find them in or under all manner of stirring music, even in an anthem to love such as Brel's Quand on n'a que l'amour.

And that's why – after chancing upon Lang Lang's recorded rendition of Rachmaninov's G minor Prelude, Op.23 No.5 – I was dumbfounded by the slowness and apparently insane rubato of his performance. The composer's direction is clearly Alla marcia – which I can only imagine Lang Lang has interpreted as a dedication to a woman called Marcia – as there is no way no how that anyone could march to the music he is playing. Lang Lang's version is a leisurely amble with apparently many distractions and delays en route; all forward motion is suspended in bar 23. The slow middle section is painfully schmaltzy and kitsched-up, lacking in lyricism but peppered with random dynamic effects.

Bar 23

How should it be played? Let's look at a few Russians.

Ashkenazy plays a good steady march with a delicate touch, and the melody of the central lyrical section sings with phrasing as light and natural as human breath.

Gilels (note to self: the stress is on the first syllable and the second L is soft, it's one of those names that we somehow get all wrong, like Mussorgsky - again the stress is on the first syllable) ... Gilels flies along at more than a quick-step, it is so fast it seems as if he can only resort to flinging his hands at the keyboard and somehow manages to strike the right notes. It is in the central section that his playing is truly magical where the music flows like water in a brook.

But if you want a march – and both I and the composer do – then listen to Richter. He plays a strong quickish march with his accustomed muscularity and rhythmic clarity, and not a soldier falls out of step, and the tempo is astoundingly maintained through all the dramatic complexities. The lyrical section also has something of Gilels' watery lightness. A wonderful version.