Leif Ove Andsnes is a leading pianist of his time, known for his exceptional musicianship and subtil touch, his considerable technical flair being unfailingly put at the service of his interpretations. He was a pioneer for being the first home-trained superstar pianist to have emerged from Norway. This box is the story of a 20-year partnership that has yielded a rich seam of recorded treasures, first for Virgin and then for EMI. Running through this cornucopia of 34 albums (36 CDs), we find recurring themes: Grieg (Andsnes even recorded some Lyric Pieces on the composer's own piano at Troldhaugen), Nordic music in general, Schumann, Rachmaninov, Schubert.

Thibaut Garcia pays tribute with El Bohemio to the Paraguayan guitar virtuoso and composer Agustín Barrios (1885-1944). As Garcia explains, "Barrios is an essential composer in the guitarist's repertoire. His music can be described as a skilful mix of South American popular music - inspired by the jungles of Paraguay - and the Romanticism of Chopin and Schumann, composers he idolised." El Bohemio duly complements 16 varied works by Barrios himself with three of his transcriptions of famous pieces by Chopin, Schumann, and Beethoven. In addition, the album includes readings of two of Barrios's poems: 'Bohemio', which lends the album it's name, portrays the composer as a wandering troubadour; 'Profesión de fé' (Profession of faith) honours the Guarani, the indigenous people of Paraquay.

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

This double-CD set from RCA Japan (courtesy of Arkivmusic.com's on-demand reprint program) preserves what presumably is the best of Mieczyslaw Horszowski's December 9 and 11, 1987 Casals Hall Tokyo recitals, along with the encores from each date. Listen blindly and you'd guess that an older yet quite well preserved and highly experienced pianist was at work, someone between 60 or 75. Try the 95-years-young Horszowski, who's on top form.

True, he doesn't exactly sprint through the Chopin B minor Scherzo's outer sections as he did back in 1940, but he makes a virtue out of necessity by leisurely unfolding and consistently sustaining the music's polyphonic interest. This also holds true for the C-sharp minor Polonaise. The A-flat Impromptu amounts to a bel canto masterclass, while Horszowski requires only dabs of pedal to project the Mozart K. 332 sonata's first movement to such texturally differentiated effect.

The Bach Fifth English Suite is full-bodied and virile yet sensitively delineated (the Prélude's effortlessly conversational flow between hands, each of the Passepied's bouncy, delightfully ambidextrous qualities). Perhaps the fountain of youth kicks in strongest with the two Villa-Lobos miniatures, served up with red-blooded élan. The encores abound with memorable moments. Horszowski plays the Op. 25 No. 2 Etude's opening statement as if he were kneading the triplet passagework into a seamless legato line, yet upon its reiteration he lightens the tone and mostly eschews the pedal.

Force and finesse are the yin and yang elements that anchor the three Nocturnes. The elusive yet palpable give and take of Horszowski's rubato in the B minor Op. 33 No. 4 Mazurka is easier for to you hear than for me to describe. Horszowski played Mendelssohn's Spinning Song on both concerts; the second version is more fluent and relaxed. He also repeated the Mozart sonata's Adagio, or, more accurately, sang it out in full operatic splendor. The slightly distant microphone placement accurately depicts Horszowski's tone from the perspective of an audience member sitting in the best seat of the house. Notes in Japanese only.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

This is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all Murray Perahia's many and exemplary recordings.

This Chopin recital represents Murray Perahia's return to the Sony studios after a two-year absence due to serious injury. So may I start by saying that this is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all his many and exemplary recordings. Once again his performances are graced with rare and classic attributes and now, to supreme clarity, tonal elegance and musical perspective, he adds an even stronger poetic profile, a surer sense of the inflammatory rhetoric underpinning Chopin's surface equilibrium. In other words the vividness and immediacy are as remarkable as the finesse. And here, arguably, is the oblique but telling influence of Horowitz who Perahia befriended during the last months of the old wizard's life. Listen to the First Ballade's second subject and you will hear rubato like the most subtle pulsing or musical breathing. Try the opening of the Third and you will note an ideal poise and lucidity, something rarely achieved in these outwardly insouciant pages.

Then there is the glorious Fourth and final Ballade in a performance as subtly gauged as any on record. Here Perahia achieves a fluidity of line and impetus that never compromise or sacrifice his sense of superfine and exploratory detail; and what other pianist possesses such an acute aural and rhythmic sensitivity? From Perahia the waltzes are marvels of liquid brilliance and urbanity. You would have to return to 1950 and Lipatti (EMI, 7/89) for a comparable quality though, frankly, even he hardly achieved such an enchanting lilt or buoyancy, such a beguiling sense of light and shade. In the mazurkas, too, Perahia's tiptoe delicacy and tonal irridescence (particularly in Op. 7 No. 3 in F minor) make the music dance and spin as if caught in some magical hallucinatory haze.

Finally, two contrasting Etudes, and whether in ardent lyricism (Op. 10 No. 3) or shot-from-guns virtuosity (Op. 10 No. 4) Perahia's playing is sheer perfection. The recording beautifully captures his instantly recognizable, glistening sound world as well as the immense grandeur of his conceptions. Rarely in my experience has such a truly transcendental pianism (he has every tint and colour of the spectrum at his fingertips) and such innate poetry been so unforgettably combined. Welcome back Murray Perahia; you have been sorely missed.

-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/1994]

Petri was in his youth something of a multi-instrumentalist. We remember him as Busoni’s greatest pupil and a Lisztian of coruscating brilliance but he was also a violinist – not surprising as his father, Henri, was an internationally renowned performer and teacher – but also, less predictably, as a French horn player good enough to take a place in the Dresden Symphony. Petri was a musician of the utmost clarity, distinction and directness with a technique remarkable even into old age and whose conception of space and tonal value gave him a persuasive insight into music of intellect and weight. As a Beethovenian he was distinguished - as a Chopin player he maybe reflected something of his teacher Busoni’s own professed ambiguity and duality of response. Petri’s pre-War Columbias have been collated on APR and demonstrate his strengths in abundance. Music and Arts has here brought together his concerts and broadcasts from the period covering 1954 to 1962, the year of his death. His reluctance to travel, his physical lack of flamboyance, indeed his active distaste of extravagance and extraneous gesture and detail, meant that audiences didn’t much clamour to hear him. Their loss is evident from this uneven but nevertheless exceptionally significant series of survivals.

There’s a caveat to be made about the actual piano sound on some of these off-air and private recordings; it can be rather harsh but it’s not at all unlistenable. There are also some imperfections to be expected – some wow and distortion (minimal and fleeting) some dropouts (ditto) as well as pitch distortion. These are all honestly noted in Music and Arts documentation and I should mention them here; they didn’t unduly trouble me. The repertoire is very much Petri’s canonical one – the last Beethoven sonatas, Busoni, Chopin as well as Bach-Busoni and Bach-Petri. He was always a charming exponent of Gluck, a more unexpected one here of Medtner. Of Liszt there’s but a fleeting glimpse – Venezia e Napoli, taped in the last year of his life.

We start with his Chopin Preludes Op. 28. Well, best to get this over with I suppose. I find his Chopin rather disappointing. His rubati in the Agitato opener are well judged if unexceptionable (he was known to scorn the emotive exaggerations of some of his colleagues) but he is very, very cool in No. 4, the Largo in E. There’s a dispassionate control in No. 6, a Lento from which, however, he seems to wish to expunge feeling. He is fine though in another Largo, No. 9 in E – his truly noble sound is affecting – but there isn’t enough distinction between the hands in No. 11, where he fails to differentiate the melody line in the right hand. There’s even a distribution between hands – something that seems to me afflicts No. 13 in F sharp as well. The Sostenuto in D flat (No. 15) is very dry playing indeed – Petri adamantine in his refusal to indulge colouristic potential; in addition his left hand covers the right at some crucial moments. He improves considerably for the B flat Presto and the power contained within as he does for the virility and energy of the Allegro appassionato conclusion (he omits Nos. 21 and 22 for some reason). Throughout I felt him most comfortable with the athletic, technical side of the Preludes and rather less indulgent towards the lyrical side that Busoni himself felt most ambivalent about. Of his Busoni indeed I could hardly say anything other than that it is magnificent. The Song of Victory from the Indian Diary is 1.16 of powerfully sustained pianism of an exalted level whilst the eloquence of the Bluebird Song shows that what he failed to do so glaringly in Chopin he could manifestly do in Busoni. The final dance shows off Petri’s superb rhythmic control, his colour and his sheer depth of tone (never overdone). He was seventy-seven when he was taped in Busoni’s All’Italia – sheer virtuosic panache. The disc finishes with twenty-five minutes of Petri with the eminent pianist Carlo Bussotti in a stratospherically impressive Fantasia Contrappuntistica; the two men seemingly joined at the musical hip so intense and marshalled their decisive vision.

The second disc is rather more bits and pieces – but what bits what pieces. The Medtner is very impressive playing indeed if not quite in the Moiseiwitsch or Medtner class. The Danza Festiva is rather heavier than the composer’s own recording but the Op. 20/2 Fairy Tale in B has some seismic attacks. The Schumann Fantasiestücke are in somewhat splintery sound but he plays them with rather more overt affection than he did the Chopin; the Allegro con fuoco second is sonorous, the third is affecting, without affectation, and the Vivacissimo, Dream Visions is full of filigree drive, albeit one accompanied by a degree of tape distortion. His own Bach Chorale arrangements are justly famous as are his recordings of them. Sheep may safely graze is nourishingly intimate and beautifully adept with its sudden pianissimi, whilst I step before Thy Throne grows in authority and grandeur. There’s little real difference between Petri’s 1930s recording of the Minuet (from the W.F. Bach Notebook) and this one, made in 1958. His Schubert-Liszt is duly frolicsome and the Nocturne in D flat has quite a lot more vivacity and colour than he lavished on the Préludes, albeit his rhythm is rather heavy.

The third disc gives us his trademark Gluck-Sgambati Melodie – and this time he must cede to his earlier self; he’s heavier, more emphatic, less treble oriented preferring to concentrate instead on the middle voicings. The captivating beauty of that earlier recording has been replaced by a philosophic depth that does seem rather alien to it. His Beethoven Op. 90 Sonata is characteristically plain speaking and strong; the second of the two movements is especially buoyant and decisive. The Chopin examples here, the Sonata in B and the Nocturne in F sharp, are vitiated by choppy rhythm. Petri was seventy-eight when these performances were taped so maybe that has something to do with it but whilst there are tonally delightful glints in the opening Allegro of the Sonata it sounds as if, like a mathematician, Petri were actively breaking the movement – and indeed the work as a whole – into units. The algebraic-philosophic-contrapuntalist approach here renders much of this very disappointing. I liked the lento much more though and whilst the presto finale again suffers from rhythmic insistence there are still compensatory features of colour and vivacity.

The final disc is in many ways the most consistently elevated in musical terms, principally because it finds Petri addressing Beethoven. There are some technical frailties in the opening of Op. 109, it’s true, but more important by far is the sense of powerful direction. Again the tiny Prestissimo second movement taxes him for a moment but we should concentrate on the Andante finale. Here Petri is very direct, almost casual, but as the movement advances and his architectural priorities become clearer we are aware of a mind of illuminating integrity at work. By the later variations he develops a degree of metrical flexibility that one would not have earlier suspected. There is no undue sentiment and I would certainly understand those who hold this to be a logician’s Beethoven. My own instincts are for something more overtly expressive but I can but admire the tremendous concentration of his approach. The A flat Sonata, Op. 110, again taped in 1954, certainly lacks to my ears the molto espressivo in the first movement requested of the performer. But Petri is careful to reserve the weight of his intelligence and tonal resources for the first, Adagio section of the finale. He keeps this moving with an almost Arietta delicacy, though he certainly employs weight and shading. The Fuga is strong and determined. In Op. 111 his Maestoso is fast, strong, with no great tonal beauty to it. I have to say I found it inflexible, on one level and rather superficial. It’s a performance that seeks to divide and fracture still further, rather than reconcile, the character of both movements. With a pianist such as Solomon the seemingly disparate and oppositional movements take on congruence and a retrospective sense of rightness. With Petri the implacably oppositional nature of the Sonata is starkly delineated. In that Arietta finale Petri is flexible without coming to a stop; his syncopated passages are driving, even a little peremptory, but he never seeks to extract huge weight of left hand tone or to indulge abstraction. This is intelligent, lean, technically adept and impressive playing, whatever ones view of its ability to move, which I happen to find relatively limited.

Documentation consists in the main of an interview between annotator Frederick Maroth and Petri’s English pupil, Claire James who had attended the famous Busoni-Petri two-piano London recital of 1921. They deal with the central features of Petri’s pianism with acumen, as one would expect, with some quietly revealing information disclosed along the way. This is a set of some real importance in capturing Petri’s art at a time when he was given considerably less than his due. Even at his most phlegmatic his brand of musical stoicism added an imperishable page to the annals of pianism on record in the twentieth century.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

MICHELANGELI IN LONDON - THE J

CHOPIN GREATEST HITS

Chopin turned the Scherzo into a new form of piano composition: an independent virtuoso work which he laced with drama, Polish folk song, tranquility and nuance. With their rhythmic lilt and filigree ornamentation the Impromptus are infused with Romantic freedom, while the Allegro de concert, Op. 46 was originally conceived as a movement for a projected piano concerto but was instead revised for solo piano. Mao Fujita was awarded Second Prize at the 16th International Tchaikovsky Competition in 2019. A laureate of numerous national and international competitions such as the World Classic in Taiwan (2010, first prize in the junior section), the Rosario Marciano International Piano Competition in Vienna (Austria, 2013), the Zhuhai International Mozart Competition for Young Musicians (2015), the Gina Bachauer International Young Artists Piano Competition in (USA, 2016) and many others. In 2017 he won the first prize as well as three special prizes at the Concours International de Piano Clara Haskil in Switzerland. In October 2019, Fujita made his UK debut with the Mariinsky Orchestra conducted by Valery Gergiev, which was critically acclaimed by The Times. Immediately following this success, he made his debut in Seoul and Moscow. Mao Fujita has recorded several albums under the Naxos Japan label, which include woks by Beethoven, Chopin, Mozart, Liszt and Prokofiev, among others.

Ivo Pogorelich has a special relationship with the piano music of the Polish Romantic composer Frédéric Chopin. It is Chopin, after all, whom he has to thank for his international breakthrough. When, at the age of 22, Pogorelich took part in the 1980 Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, his exceptional playing caused an immediate sensation. Martha Argerich, who was on the jury, described him as a “genius”.  Since that time, Pogorelich has been increasingly committed, on recording and in concert, to an image of Chopin that is far from the commonplace cliché of the brilliant and pleasing composer of salon music. Now Pogorelich once again offers completely new insights into Chopin’s world and the soul within the sound in what is in fact his fifth Chopin album, but the first for more than twenty years. He has selected works from the 1840s, the last decade of the Polish master’s life. These include the Nocturnes op. 48 no. 1 and op. 62 no. 2, the Fantasy op. 49 and Chopin’s third and last Piano Sonata, op. 58.

What Pogorelich admires in these works is Chopin’s ability to make the piano a gateway to the soul: “Chopin delivers an open invitation to penetrate human psychology. It’s a specific invitation to continually seek out and explore every possibility that the piano has to offer. That’s a never-ending process, and it will continue to challenge new generations of artists in the future too.”

The Croatian-born pianist traces a path in this recital that starts with the small form, continues by way of the brilliant Fantasy and finally reaches the large-scale, four-movement sonata form. In Pogorelich’s hands, despite their magical lyricism, the two Nocturnes have a  gripping sense of tension and drama. The Fantasy in F minor, op. 49 is marked by a sombre mood of conflict, yet at the same time it reflects the improvisational skill for which Chopin was celebrated. With the Piano Sonata No. 3 in B minor, op. 58, the composer not merely bids farewell to this genre, with all its rich tradition. The work also demonstrates his efforts to create a new kind of sonata. And with Ivo Pogorelich this much-performed and popular piano work is transformed into an exciting new encounter with Frédéric Chopin.

REVIEW:

After a 20-year hiatus from the recording studio as regards Chopin, Croatian pianist Ivo Pogorelich (b. 1958) returns with an hour of deeply-thought, if eternally controversial, interpretations of some standard, late-Chopin repertory.

Pogorelich claims that “art is cruel,” that it often violently confronts our conventions and our complacency. Even if one does not subscribe to Antonin Artaud’s credo of art’s “theater of cruelty,” we must acknowledge that Pogorelich softens the blows with a wonderfully warm sonority and clarity of line.

If one is willing to concede that “depth of expression” compensates for or justifies hyperbolic slowness, then Pogorelich’s Fantasy in F Minor (1841) will appear a miracle of sustained intimacy, given its full three-minutes’ length beyond that of Claudio Arrau. The grim, martial opening will soon cede to national, Polish impulses in aristocratic contours, in mazurka and polonaise rhythms. Pogorelich becomes mesmerized by his own poetic filigree, so the musical thread loses a sense of dramatic continuity. Again, the luxury of the arpeggios and runs, high and low, mixed together with declamatory bass chords, proves haunting. In the middle section, Lento sostenuto, Pogorelich finds a drawn-out, poetic balance of improvisatory and ballade-like narrative. The last pages become a postlude or epilogue, very slow and deliberate, strumming their way into a vaporous coda.

Pogorelich’s way with Chopin last, published Nocturne in E (1846) feels better suited to his grand leisure: marked Lento, dolce sostenuto, the melodic line can bear the stretched, serpentine extension it receives, more like Berlioz than Chopin. The secondary theme in ascending, bass runs achieves C-sharp Minor and a series of syncopations that articulate Chopin’s advanced sense of polyphony. Pogorelich makes these rhythmic impulses more lyrical than their accustomed wont. We feel significantly alerted to Chopin’s trills and moving bass line, as the piece eventually assumes a modified rondo format. The music ends, or rather collapses, into the tonic and evaporates.

The last of Chopin’s three piano sonatas, this in B Minor (1844), receives the most improvisatory treatment in the program. The opening, Allegro maestoso, acquires a searching gravitas, alternately martial and nostalgic. Pogorelich milks the secondary theme in D, breaking its dreamy phrases to contrast with the quicksilver runs that provide a coda to the disparate fragments. That the movement ends in the tonic major seems artificial here, another spliced-on, poetic shard.

So far as improvisation occurs, the Scherzo: Molto vivace in E-flat Major from Pogorelich really proves the berries. He invests a liquid urgency into its eighth-note runs, while the chordal, B Major section projects reflective poise. Doubtless, all of Pogorelich’s slow tempos have been awaiting the B Major Largo movement, which now drags out a long, chain-link series of nocturnal thoughts in E Major. If the playing were not so intrinsically lyric, the progress would resemble a sweet dirge with tolling bells. The last movement, Finale: Presto non tanto, assuming the listener’s patience has endured, moves with a hard-won (after a lingering, high dominant 7th chord) gallop, a bit marcato for my taste, but at least moving with decisiveness, especially in the brilliant runs. The secondary theme in the relative B Major, hurls a sense of national pride at us, its left hand’s singing in the manner of a liberated etude. Pogorelich’s sonority gains the heroic high ground at last, thundering to a firm, B Major coda.

-- Audaud.com (Gary Lemco)

Famous Classics, Volume 3

Works For Cello And Piano

Having won a special prize for the best Mazurka interpretations during the 1955 International Warsaw Chopin Competition, it's no surprise that pianist Fou Ts'ong has a long-standing reputation for playing--guess what?--Chopin Mazurkas! I've never heard Fou's all-Mazurka Westminster LP, but his complete Mazurka cycle issued in 1993 by Sony Essential Classics now gains reissue thanks to Arkivmusic.com's on-demand reprint program.

Fou's forceful, creative Mazurka style commands attention. He dishes out lots of rubato and elongated beats, together with wide dynamic extremes and outsized accents. Yet somehow the interpretations rarely sound fragmented, and no matter how far out things get, you almost always can discern the Mazurka rhythm. What is more, Fou is not afraid to blur the pedal for coloristic and expressive purposes.

He's also fond of subjecting repeated phrases to subtle variations in nuance and touch (Op. 6 No. 1's main theme; Op. 7 No. 1's trills; Op. 63 No. 3's intense canonic dialogue; Op. 30 No. 4's dramatically contoured inner voices). Only occasionally does Fou's approach produce cloying results (Op. 17 No. 4 and Op. 68 No. 4).

The pianist also makes the most of transitional passages, be it a single, solitary upbeat or a quick succession of chords; Op. 24 No. 4, Op. 56 No. 3, and Op. 41 No. 2 are particularly striking in this regard. You easily can listen past the strident, harsh engineering, albeit not for long periods of time. That's just as well, since it's wisest to absorb Fou's multi-layered, hyper-detailed Mazurking in small doses.

Incidentally, Fou presents the Mazurkas in near-chronological order rather than according to opus, as is so often done. While Rubinstein's stereo and Ohlsson's digital Mazurka cycles remain safer, sonically superior versions of reference, Fou Ts'ong certainly casts individual and thought-provoking light on this repertoire.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Fou Ts'ong's excellently recorded Chopin series continues with four late works, and with some of the best playing that I have heard from him. Outstanding pianistic craft is displayed almost everywhere, as in the double trills of the Barcarolle and treble trills of the Polonaise-Fantaisie... In some quiet passages of the Barcarolle, as in the Berceuse's exquisite traceries, Fou Ts'ong approaches Debussy's ideal of a piano without hammers, his tone suggesting the utmost sensitivity. And in the Barcarolle, though every detail is exactly shaped, it is the grand sweep of the music as a whole that dominates.

Without underestimating the problems of the other pieces, it can safely be said that the Polonaise-Fantaisie is the most difficult work here to interpret. Fou Ts'ong does many excellent things, especially in the poco pià lento section; and note the dream-like reverie in which the music restarts after the return of the introductory gestures. But he does not achieve quite the flow, the sense of conviction, that mark his other...performances. Just the same, this issue still should have the attention of all Chopin collectors.

-- Gramophone [7/1979, reviewing the Berceuse, Barcarolle, and the Polonaise-Fantaisie]

CHOPIN: POLONAISES, ETC ALEXA

Favorite Chopin, Vol. 2

NOCTURNE

Classical Music

CHOPIN Songs (19). CHOPIN-VIARDOT-GARCIA Seize-Ans. Aime-moi. L’oiselet. Coquette • Olga Pasichnyk (sop); Natalya Pasichnyk (pn) • NAXOS 8572499 (57:04)


It seems like 100 years ago, but it was only the late 1960s when Maria Kurenko’s now-legendary album of Chopin songs (recorded, I believe, in mono) first appeared on LP in this country. It was considered sui generis, and so it was for many years; but now here we are in the 21st century, and there are several collections of these charming pieces available, including the first-class performances by Konrad Jarnot reviewed above.


Olga Pasichnyk, a Ukrainian soprano who studied at both the Kiev Conservatory and the Chopin Academy of Music in Warsaw, gives us beautiful, charming, deeply felt, and often spectacularly sung performances of these songs. Being in the original Polish helps a lot—excepting, of course, the four extra songs in French, which are actually arrangements by Pauline Viardot-Garcia of instrumental pieces, of which more later—and it also helps that Pasichnyk has not only the voice but the technique, interpretive skills, and voice to sing them. My only caveat is that, like so many Slavic soprano voices, hers has that unusual (to Western ears) prominent vibrato, not always even under pressure, but in this case Naxos’s overly ambient sonics cover some of the edginess of the voice. Otherwise, her voice is sweet of timbre, surprisingly flexible in both range and florid ornaments, and at times quite stunning in unexpected ways. Possibly because the original texts are less cumbersome in syllabic structure, she is able to sing them at quicker tempos than Jarnot, which allows her to fit in the four extra Viardot songs (totaling about 12 minutes) to the recital while only adding four minutes to the total disc time.


Pasichnyk also possesses a quality rare among present-day singers in that she has a “smile in the voice.” This is a rare and precious asset, not to be taken lightly, and she makes the listener smile as well. The Viardot-Garcia songs are rarely performed because they are far more technically difficult than Chopin’s own songs, but again Pasichnyk rises to the challenge; listen particularly to Aime-moi, set to the music of the Mazurka No. 23 in D. This piece demands not only a polished technique but, more importantly, the ability to use that technique in a flowing, instrumental manner—in other words, to emulate the way the notes are played on a piano. Pasichnyk does this so well, and so easily, that my jaw drops to hear it. And, like everything else she sings, she has worked over her technique so well that one is scarcely aware of the immense hard work that underlies her ease of execution. I assume that Natalya Pasichnyk is her sister, though the relationship is not mentioned in the notes, but whether she is or not, she is a first-rate accompanist and also knows this style like the back of her hand. Again, no texts are included in the booklet.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley


It was just a few months since I welcomed a disc with Chopin’s complete songs, marvellously performed by the great Lied singer Konrad Jarnot. I even had it on my list of possible candidates for Recording of the Year but in the semi-finals it lost against Yann Beuron’s Fauré recording. It is still a very good disc but has two drawbacks: there are no texts and translations in the booklet and it is sung in German. The new Naxos disc is sung in the original Polish and while the rather meagre inlay has no room for the texts they can be accessed on the Naxos website. That’s good service but I have never quite managed to come to terms with listening to music in front of the computer. To be frank: I hate that and I have found that I am not alone. End of complaint.

The original language makes an important difference insofar as it was the Polish words that Chopin set. To sensitive song composers the musical values inherent in the sounds as much as the actual meaning of the words are essential. Here one feels an integration that seems totally authentic while Jarnot’s German texts stand out as slightly strange birds. Since he is such a distinctive interpreter, the ‘wrong’ language didn’t bother me but I get closer to the atmosphere of the songs in the Olga Pasichnyk’s readings. Coming from Ukraine, Polish obviously isn’t her mother tongue but parts of her studies were carried through in Warsaw and she was soloist at the Warsaw Chamber Opera from 1992. Hers is a truly lovely and beautiful voice and she is a most sensitive singer, producing ravishing pianissimos. The majority of these songs are lyrical and poetic and Olga Pasichnyk is an ideal interpreter. It also seems that a female voice is more natural in this repertoire, though that may just be prejudice. But she also has the required power Hulanka (tr. 4), this outgoing, burlesque dance, where she responds with some stirring chest notes while otherwise retaining the elegance and sensitivity.

She is also careful with words and the whole recital is so alive and ‘lived-in’. Just listen to her inflexions of the text in Sliczny chlopiec (tr. 8) and the hushed intensity in Melodia (tr. 9). She certainly covers all the interpretative facets of these songs. One of my favourites is Moja pieszczoyka (tr. 12), a delicate waltz, that I can’t remember hearing better sung, and Piosnka litewska (Lithuanian Song)(tr. 16) is another highlight, simple and enchanting.

Her sister Natalya is an extraordinarily flexible accompanist and contributes greatly to the overall impression.

As a bonus we are offered four out of the twelve songs the famous singer Pauline Viardot arranged from mazurkas by Chopin. Viardot was a technical phenomenon with a range of three octaves and virtuoso technique and the songs were written to show off her ability. Chopin was also satisfied with the songs and they are splendid showpieces. Olga Pasichnyk has both the brilliant top as well as a contralto depth – listen to Coquette (tr. 23) – and the technique to negotiate the vocal fireworks.

The recording is fully worthy of the interpretations and anyone wanting a recording of this lesser known part of Chopin’s oeuvre need look no further. At super budget price and sung in the original Polish – the Viardot songs are in French – and with texts and translations available on the internet this is a self-recommending issue.

Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

In Chopin’s oeuvre there is one genre that is particularly well represented: the mazurka. The vast majority of the 51 he published were written as an homage to and reminder of his homeland, which he never saw again after the Russian occupation of 1830/31. The mazurka is an eastern European folk dance in triple time that originates from the Polish province of Masovia, where Chopin grew up. In many cases, a mazurka comprises various individual sections, the names of which are nearly always derived from a region or ethnic group. One such section is the polonez, which is rhythmically related to the ceremonious polonaise. Quite interestingly, Beethoven named the third movement of his Triple Concerto op. 56 Rondo alla polacca. The mazur has a rhythmic structure underpinned by numerous dotted figures or triplets. The kujawiak is a slow-flowing folk dance in triple metre. The krakowiak is characterised by much syncopation. The oberek is a feisty dance. Chopin wrote in total 13 cycles of mazurkas. Here, they are performed by Chopin expert, pianist Eugene Mursky.

Classical Music

A little less than half of Chopin’s complete surviving Mazurkas make up this 2009 release, ordered not according to opus number but for the purpose of an effective program that can sustain one’s interest for 80 minutes. The Mazurkas hold up under many different interpretive game plans, from Ignaz Friedman’s robust, epic statements to the perfumed intimacy of Maryla Jonas and Guiomar Novaes, not to mention Arthur Rubinstein’s three very different complete Mazurka cycles. Koroliov evokes Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s lapidarian finger work, wide dynamic range, and subjective poetry. You hear this in Op. 6 No. 1’s fastidious voicing of the central section’s leaps, although Michelangeli’s monumental left-hand droning fifths in Op. 56 No. 2 never lilted like Koroliov’s do here.

The pianist lends interest to the rather uneventful Op. 24 No. 1 by slightly accenting the dissonances, while his gentle way with the implicitly boisterous Op. 7 No. 1 is offset by striking phrase elongations and cross-rhythmic interplay in the deliciously modal Trio. Similarly, Op. 24 No. 2’s pared down outer sections contrast to the surprisingly rolled, loud A-flat major chords announcing its Trio. In fact, Koroliov is not averse to arpeggiating chords at will, or playing the left hand slightly before the right, dead pianist style, yet he employs these devices wisely. Deft polyphonic control justifies Koroliov’s admittedly pulled-about Op. 24 No. 4 and Op. 56 No. 3, while his mesmerizing legato control in the A minor “Émile Gaillard” Mazurka similarly convinces you that his unorthodox slow tempo is a plausible alternative.

Koroliov’s Chopin Mazurkas aren’t so much dances as distinct and diversified dramas, and he brings off his conceptions without a trace of ambiguity, whether or not you agree with the pianist’s every step. Tacet provides superb engineering and fulsome, high-handed annotations.

-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

"Perahia is a Chopin interpreter of the highest order. There is an impressive range of color and an imposing sense of order. This is highly poetic playing and an indispensable acquisition for any Chopin collection." -- The Penguin Guide to Compact Discs & DVDs

CHOPIN Impromptu in c#, Op. 66/4, “Fantaisie.” Nocturnes: in Db, Op. 27/2; in Eb, Op. 9/2; in c#, Op. posth. Etudes: in Gb, Op. 10/5, “Black Key”; in Ab, Op. 25/1, “Aeolian Harp”; in F, Op. 10/8, “Sunshine”; in c, Op. 10/12, “Revolutionary.” Preludes: in e, Op. 28/4; in Db, Op. 28/15, “Raindrop.” Waltzes: in Db, Op. 64/1, “Minute Waltz”; in c#, Op. 64/2. Souvenir de Paganini, B 37. Ballad No. 1 in g, Op. 23 • Warren Mailley-Smith (pn) • SLEVELESS 1002 (55: 05)

Prize-winning British pianist Warren Mailley-Smith is another young artist whose career is off to a running start. Solo debuts in London (Wigmore Hall) and New York (Carnegie Hall) were met with critical acclaim, and in 2011, he soloed with the Royal Philharmonic in Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto. With the release of this Chopin recital, recorded in 2009 at Champs Hill, Mailley-Smith, according to his bio, has six albums under his belt, ranging in repertoire from Mozart and Beethoven to Liszt.


For his Chopin program, Mailley-Smith has chosen a number of the composer’s most popular items—the “Black Key” and “Revolutionary” etudes, the “Raindrop” Prelude, and the nearly two-minute, “Minute Waltz.” Interestingly, he has also chosen pieces from among all but two of Chopin’s major work types or categories. Missing are any selections from the mazurkas and the polonaises. Perhaps the pianist will give us some of those in a future recording.


As I believe I’ve noted once or twice before, Chopin is not one of my favorite composers. Much of his music makes me feel depressed, and not in a good way, his famous E-Minor Prelude, op. 28/4, being a prime example. So, any pianist who can overcome my ambivalence towards Chopin and gain my rapt attention for nearly an hour-long program of his works deserves special notice. Mailley-Smith is such a pianist.


For one thing, by mixing pieces of different types and alternating slow and fast numbers, Mailley-Smith’s recital provides the listener with variety and balance. It also provides the pianist with myriad opportunities to display both his technical prowess and his poetical sensibilities. In neither area does he disappoint. His “Revolutionary” Etude and G-Minor Ballad, for example, are quite electrifying, while his “Raindrop” Prelude and Db-Major Nocturne are truly heartfelt and touching.


The immaculate acoustics of the Champs Hill hall pick up Mailley-Smith’s Steinway with unusual purity and transparency, making this an all-around very desirable and strongly recommended release.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Pianist, scholar and pedagogue Paul Badura-Skoda may best be known to the music loving public at large as an exponent of the Viennese classics. In fact, Badura-Skoda's lengthy career covers far more musical ground than he is usually given credit for, from his awesome teenage prowess as an accordion virtuoso to the flamenco-inspired flair he brought to Frank Martin's Fantasie, a work written especially for Badura-Skoda. In January 2005, we heard Badura-Skoda in an intimate, semi-private recital in New York, where the 77-year-old pianist covered a wide repertoire range with consummate authority and still-impressive technical command, notably in a shimmering, intense performance of Ravel's Ondine from Gaspard de la nuit. A selection of Chopin short pieces proved no less idiomatic, and served to remind US this composer also has preoccupied Badura-Skoda for a long time. Chopin also figures in the pianist's uncommonly large and wide-ranging discography of more than 200 releases, including the present 1971-5 studio recordings, all but one piece being released now for the first time.