Guitar Recital: Fabio Zanon

Chopin: Preludes

Among forms that Chopin made his own was the Nocturne, at one time synonymous with the Serenade, but with the Irish pianist John Field and Chopin, his successor, a lyrical piano piece offering, nominally at least, a poetic vision of the night. Field wrote eighteen piano pieces with this title between the years 1814 and 1835 and these introduced a new form of piano music that was developed not only in the Nocturne but in other separate movements for piano throughout the century. Two nocturnes were published in 1840 by Eug�ne-Th�odore Troupenas, who briefly replaced Schlesinger, whom Chopin now accused of sharp practice in disposing of one of his German copyrights, giving vent, in private correspondence, to his rooted anti-semiotic suspicions. The G minor Nocturne, Opus 37, No. 1, encloses a tranquil chordal E flat major section, and is followed by a G major Nocturne, with a lilting secondary episode. By 1841 disagreement with Schlesinger had been put aside and he published a set of two nocturnes, the first in C minor and the second in F sharp minor, dedicated to Chopin's pupil Laure Duperr�. Opus 48, No.1, moves forward to a central C major section of gentler character, increasing in excitement as the opening material returns. The F sharp minor Nocturne that completes the set moves into a relatively sombre D flat major section of some harmonic complexity. Two more nocturnes were published by Schlesinger in 1844, dedicated to Jane Stirling, a middle-aged Scottish pupil of Chopin whose nuptial ambitions outweighed her musical talent. It was through her that Chopin travelled in 1848 to London and to Scotland and to an endless round of tedious social visits that lasted seven months, until he could escape back to Paris again, his health now much worse. In 1844, however, Chopin was still involved with George Sand, although their relationship had it's difficulties as her two children, Maurice and Solange, grew up and used him in their own rivalries and jealousies. The F minor Nocturne, Opus 55, No. 1, allows the opening material to re-appear in more elaborate form in conclusion. It is followed by a second, the Nocturne in E flat, marked by it's use of a second melodic voice, accompanying the first. Chopin wrote his last two nocturnes in 1846 and they were published in the same year by Brandus, who had bought Maurice Schlesinger's business and was later to acquire Troupenas. They were dedicated to another of the composer's piano pupils, Mlle. de K�nneritz. Opus 62, No.1, in B major, is introduced by two chords, the first suggesting another tonality. There is an A flat major central section and an elaborated return of the material of the opening section. The final work, the Nocturne in E major, has a secondary episode with a more energetic accompanying figure. The two nocturnes were written in the autumn of 1846 at Nohant, which Chopin only left in November to return alone to Paris, giving rise to rumors about a quarrel with George Sand, with whom he quarreled definitively the following year, after her daughter's marriage.

HOWELLS: Requiem / Take Him, Earth, for Cherishing

HINDEMITH: Piano Works, Vol. 4

RUBINSTEIN: Album de Peterhof, Op. 75

Thalberg: Fantasies On Operas by Verdi, Rossini and Bellini

Thalberg: Fantasies On Operas by Donizetti

BULOW: Piano Transcriptions

HINDEMITH: Piano Works, Vol. 2

BENNETT: Preludes and Lessons, Op. 33 / Capriccio, Op. 2 / R

Mihály Mosonyi was a discovery for me—a contemporary of Liszt with the sensibility of Bartók; his piano études capture the essence of Hungarian élan without resorting to Lisztian bombast.

-- David Johnson, FANFARE [Want List, 1994]


Known in this country only from a recording of his piano concerto issued on a Candide LP two dozen years ago (it has since been transferred to CD), Mihály Mosonyi (1815-70) has never been entirely neglected by his fellow Hungarians. The annotator of these two Marco Polo discs, Dezö Legány, calls him “the third most important Hungarian composer of the nineteenth century,“ which may seem to be damning him with faint praise, except that one of the two more important of his countrymen was Franz Liszt. (The other, Ferenc Erkel, also has had a hard time establishing a major reputation outside the confines of Hungary, largely because his specialty was opera in the Magyar tongue, which doesn't travel well.) Mosonyi's posthumous reputation, such as it is, has been sustained by the many flattering things that Liszt said about him, both publicly and in letters to friends. Legány fails to pursue the Liszt connection in his sober, helpful, but heavily musicological notes. The annotator of the old Candide disc did a better job of quoting Liszt on Mosonyi. Among that flamboyant master's comments is this one: “The death of Mosonyi puts our hearts in mourning. It makes us sorrow also for the music of Hungary, of which Mosonyi was one of the noblest, most valiant and praiseworthy representatives.“ Praise came rather too cheaply for Liszt, but he followed it with the sincerest form of flattery, a noble piano elegy (“Mosonyi's Grablied“) in memory of his confrère, who had died too soon at the age of fifty-five. Two years before Mosonyi's death, Liszt had honored him with a transcription from one of his operas (he wrote two). After listening to these two albums—especially the one featuring solo piano music, which I am happy to note is styled “Volume 1“—I think hat Liszt was, indeed, on to a very good thing.

Mosonyi's name at birth, and for all but the last twelve years of his life, was Michael Brand (“Brandt“ according to Baker's Dictionary). It was only in 1858 that he Magyarized his first name and derived a new last name from Moson, the county in which he was born. With his new name he took on a new musical personality. His music had been heavily indebted to the Vienna Classicists (he spent some years as a private tutor in that city). After 1858 it took on a strongly Hungarian accent and at the same time acquired a slimmed-down, direct manner, shorn of much Romantic baggage—a manner that appeals to twentieth-century ears. Both the Brand and the Mosonyi aspects of this little-known composer are in evidence on these discs, the former on the orchestral one, the latter on the one devoted to his solo piano music.

Hungarian Children's World is not designed for children, unless their technique is fully developed. Though this set of twelve genre pieces is not in the virtuoso category, the technical demands call for a pianist of professional capability. The individual numbers vary from forty-eight seconds to five minutes and fifty seconds in length. Each has a programmatic title. “The Little Gypsy Girl“ is a three-tempo czárdás (Adagio-Allegro-Andante) “Lullaby“ ends on an unresolved suspension. “The Little Piper,“ with its elaborate melismas, seems more suitable to a cimbalom than a piano. “Children's Song“ is pure Robert Schumann at first, but launches startlingly into the verbunkos manner in its midsection. “The Story Man“ has several stories to tell: the piece shifts five times between Maestoso and Allegretto, each time bringing in a different set of themes. The last number, “Búcsú“ in Hungarian, is translated a “Kirchweih“ (“Church Ceremony“) in German, and a “Farewell Festival“ in English; whatever “Búcsú“ means, it makes a satisfactorily lively finale to a very attractive set of Kinderszenen.

Studies for Piano, for Development in the Performance of Hungarian Music is the wordy title of the second set of piano works on the disc. These are genuine progressive studies, starting with the simplest exercises and eventually reaching considerable technical complexity. Bartók followed the same procedure in his far more ambitious Mikrokosmos, which may well have borrowed some of its procedures from Mosonyi's set. (Bartók published several letters of Liszt to Mosonyi in the Musical Quarterly in 1921; he was well aware of the work of both men.) There are twenty pieces in this collection. They have less overt programs than the Hungarian Children's World, mostly settling for an adjective to establish mood, followed by the tempo (“Sadly: Adagio,“ “Joyfully: Vivace“). The Hungarian accent is more persistent here, discernible, often subtly, in all twenty pieces. (No. 25 piques my curiosity. It is called “In the style of Károly Fátyol,“ whose dates— obviously added by an editor, since he died after Mosonyi—are given as “1830-1888.“ I suspect he may have been a Gypsy musician. Can any of the readership enlighten me?)

As in Mikrokosmos, the early numbers, intended for beginners, tend to bore grown-ups (and children, too, for that matter). As more demands are placed upon the executant (from around No. 8 on) the listener's ear begins to prick up, and by the end of the series one is genuinely impressed by the melodic distinction, the clean, almost Poulenic-ish line, and the surprisingly modern approach of these pieces. There is not a trace of Romantic sensibility or bloat in them. Virtuosity for its own sake is eschewed throughout, in favor of a deep Hungarian expressivity. But Mosonyi know how to ignite the fireworks when he want to—as in No. 16, where the fingers fly in true Lisztian manner, and in the concluding study, a splendid and subtle Hungarian Rhapsody. Piano teachers, even if they are not Hungarian, would do well to introduce this toothsome set of études to their pupils.

István Kassai, thirty-five years of age, won first prize in the International Debussy Piano Competition around a decade ago. He plays Mosonyi like the aristocrat of the keyboard he obviously is. Engineer Endre Radany achieve a vividly lifelike reproduction of Kassai's touch and tone.

-- David Johnson, FANFARE [11/1994]

NEPOMUCENO: Piano Works

If Art Tatum had been white, he might have made a career as a great classical pianist. Had Leopold Godowsky (1870-1938) been black, he might have become a great jazzer. His best playing is said to have been to private gatherings in his New York salon, and his compositions are beautifully wrought for the quiet delight of connoisseurs. They are relatively, but only relatively, easy listening. Virtuosi sometimes play the short pieces here as encores, when they do all the hard work and the audience relaxes. They are stylishly served in a recording which captures the sensitive colouring of this 34-year-old Russian pianist.

-- Adrian Jack, BBC Music

STANFORD: Sonatas for Organ, Opp. 151-153

Lutoslawski: Symphony No. 2 / Little Suite / Symphonic Vari

BACH, J.S.: Kirnberger Chorales and other Organ Works, Vol.

DVORAK: Four-Hand Piano Music, Vol. 1

BACH, J.S.: Kirnberger Chorales and other Organ Works, Vol.

PROKOFIEV: Ten Small Pieces / Sarcasms / Visions Fugitives

DEBUSSY: Piano Works, Vol. 2

Grieg: Piano Music, Vol. 12

Early French Organ Music, Vol. 2

Grieg: Piano Music, Vol. 10

Grieg: Piano Music, Vol. 5