Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)
Ballades & Impromptus
Charles Richard-Hamelin (piano)
rec. 2018, Salle Raoul-Jobin, Palais Montcalm, Québec
ANALEKTA AN29145 [59]
4 Ballades, 4 Impromptus
Anna Vinnitskaya (piano)
rec. 2020, Friedrich-Ebert-Halle, Hamburg
ALPHA 728 [57]
Not often, with eight independent pieces, do two CDs have identical content, so I shall review them together. To ensure parity I first focus on the earlier Analekta disc for Ballades and Impromptus 1-2, immediately comparing the Alpha for every piece, then vice versa with Ballades and Impromptus 3-4.
In the Largo introduction to Ballade 1 I feel Charles Richard-Hamelin goes for clarity at the expense of nuancing more its changes of mood: an opening phrase beginning weightily but ending in a sigh (tr. 1, 0:10), a second phrase of pleading (0:18) and a third languishing (0:32). However, he presents the Moderato first theme (0:43) with a fine blend of nonchalance, carrying on with life, and sustained pride flecked with pathos, especially when softening the repeated phrase as the tune reaches its apex. Then the left-hand becomes agitated, revealing the rancour beneath the nonchalance and soon the right-hand sorrowing recollection reaches brainstorm pitch, only calmed by the serene, happy second theme (3:16) Richard-Hamelin plays freshly and glowingly, as is next the return of the first theme, whose growing tension is matched by an ff triumphant declamation of the second theme, then an ecstatic passage which melds into a crazily fast waltz of six beats in the bar (5:56). Stimulating freedom on which the second theme floats with its own gleeful expansion. The first theme comes for the third time, its pent-up emotion bursting appassionato il più forte possibile (8:05) to a Presto con fuoco coda (8:13), a tremendous, frightening account.
Despite timing at 9:30 to Richard-Hamelin’s 9:46, Anna Vinnitskaya’s introduction shows a touch more nuance and contrast of mood. She makes her first theme more glowingly reflective and sorrowful, but there’s less venom to the eruption of the left-hand and subsequent build-up of agitation where Richard-Hamelin is more gripping. But her more marked sotto voce first presentation of the second theme and the rhapsodic, airy freedom with which she progresses it amply compensate. This is also effectively found in her return of the first theme, taking full value from the dynamic contrasts and threatening low E natural. The climax of her second theme is more polite, the aftermath more delicate, her fast waltz quite comedic. Her peroration isn’t as stunning as Richard-Hamelin’s but her second theme final return is enthusiastic, the third’s, careful and solemn, both poetic and creepy, and coda lively.
In Ballade 2 happiness is only found at the Andantino start, with Richard-Hamelin’s first theme’s smooth and serene lilt, a carefree continuity of peace. The vision fades, then immediately a very loud Presto con fuoco storm (tr. 2, 2:23), from which emerges a less defined second theme in the right-hand (2:47), all tension. The first theme return, now halting, drifts in sequences of tenderness and longing, then in a stretto più mosso (4:28) it too gives way to tension and outburst. This pattern of seeking to reclaim the opening warmth and stretto dismissal is repeated, while the return of the storm seems conclusive, except for a postlude (7:17) in which at the tempo of the first theme its original phrase has a new ending (7:31), no longer falling sunny beauty but rising steely gaze, hard and fierce.
Vinnitskaya, timing at 7:10 against Richard-Hamelin’s 7:51, takes the usual 19th century interpretation of Andantino being faster than Andante, bringing a liquid, luminescent flow to the melody which, combined with a more marked sotto voce than Richard-Hamelin, instils a dreamlike quality. Nevertheless, I like the fresher, more folksy openness of texture Richard-Hamelin finds and clarity of inner parts’ detail. Vinnitskaya is most memorable in the beguiling, affectionate longing of the second recall of the first theme, but Richard-Hamelin finds more nuance and fatalism in the postlude’s rising phrase end.
The impromptus, less substantial, are more lovable than the ballades. Impromptu 1 is like a continuous conjuring trick, fleet of finger, a dazzling Allegro assai quasi-Presto quixotic cyclical theme from Richard-Hamelin. I feel he misses the scope for a degree of nonchalance in its airier second strain (tr. 5, 0:14), but his throwaway skittering repetitions at the end are mesmerizing. Contrast is found in the bold presentation of his sostenuto central theme (1:01), grand aria like with vacillation and consideration as well as a star turn.
Vinnitskaya, timing at 4:18, is only 10 seconds slower than Richard-Hamelin, but I prefer her lighter touch and humour to his intensity, finding more space for the second strain and breadth to the second theme, allowing more nuance in its development, becoming from her a serenade both graceful and coy.
Impromptu 2’s cyclical theme is for me the loveliest in the impromptus. Its mood anticipates that of Debussy’s En bateau 50 years later: a telling blend of serenity and fear it may pass. Richard-Hamelin conveys this with clarity, as he does the magic of the third phrase’s gratitude (tr. 6, 1:06) and then the fanfare like a blessing that begins the fourth (1:24) rising to coloratura C sharp, coming third time an octave lower as if bashful at having overstepped the mark. Then doing this heedlessly in the central section (2:03), a gradual surge in sonority and dynamic over a continually pounding bass, climax, and sudden disappearance. The cyclical theme transforms into unrestrained leggiero demisemiquaver runs over a skeletal shadow of itself in the left hand. Happily, the fanfare blessing restores tranquillity until another stark contrast in the ff final cadence.
Vinnitskaya, timing at 5:41, is here 12 seconds faster than Richard-Hamelin and for me makes the whole piece cohere more convincingly, more flowingly relaxed in the cyclical theme, more edgy, albeit not as sonorous, in the central theme and allowing its melody a seemlier disappearance. She makes the cyclical theme’s transition to leggiero runs its convincing climax.
Ballade 3’s opening theme from Anna Vinnitskaya seems of two loving companions: a ‘soprano’ phrase accepted and resolved by ‘baritone’. With the second theme (tr. 3, 1:47) Vinnitskaya delineates a more touching unity: a lady’s graceful dance (right-hand), the gentleman (left-hand) keeping in step with a bit of a lollop. He looks on in the third theme’s, from Vinnitskaya, smoothly gracious, lady’s delicate waltz (3:46). The development (4:58) finds the second theme hard pressed and ends with fragments of the opening theme, desolate flotsam over storm waves in left-hand semiquavers. But Vinnitskaya shows the second theme’s resolve is maintained and the first shines through with heartening vigour, headily propelled to the coda (6:51) where reintroducing the waltz seems a natural confirmation of triumph.
Richard-Hamelin, timing at 7:50 to Vinnitskaya’s 7:10, offers a steadier, more punctilious Allegretto from a couple stylish, poised, but a touch distant. Richard-Hamelin’s second theme glories in the difference between the two persons (hands) with delighted gaucheness. The predominance of semiquavers in the waltz has him vividly conveying its pace, but I miss Vinnitskaya’s relaxation and softness. In the development Richard-Hamelin’s graphic emphasis on juxtaposition and contrast of left-hand and right-hand roles dilutes the emotive impact of the isolation of themes that Vinnitskaya reveals. The climax of Richard-Hamelin’s first theme is powerful, albeit showing less heart than Vinnitskaya, and his coda brilliant.
In Ballade 4 the introduction comes calm and pearly from Vinnitskaya, an opening blessing. In the first theme (tr. 4, 0:29) she settles into a determined, fretful progression, austere yet of haunting sadness. The first episode (2:23), gliding right-hand chords over left-hand smoothly rocking and descending quavers, Vinnitskaya makes a calm visitation of an untroubled spirit. The first theme grows organically, becoming briefly a duet (3:11), later (3:40) a rich trio. When that grows searingly passionate a second episode rides the storm (4:18) to make room for the second theme (4:32) which Vinnitskaya shows first blends relaxation and momentum before the dolce charm of shiningly placed and poised high notes (first at 4:42). A quicksilver third episode (5:26) provides a contrast in continuous semiquavers and a brighter, livelier tone before the full return of the introduction theme (6:33) now with a minor mode tinge. The first theme returns, the left-hand in canon, echoing the right at three quavers’ interval (7:11), played in a musingly limpid manner by Vinnitskaya, allowing for welcome release when the theme is freed from canon (7:50). Not for long, as the most elaborate variants of the theme appear with its next presentation (8:12) so it grows increasingly distraught, disappearing into a whirlpool transition (8:39) over which calmly floats the second theme (8:51). But Vinnitskaya’s playing of it must needs become increasingly fiery to ride with the unremitting turbulence of the left hand until all is swallowed up in a succession of f then ff arpeggios and whiplash chords. Vinnitskaya is exciting, but is she brutal enough? More memorable are her soothing, sustained chords (9:57) recalling the character of the first episode. A brief interlude of peace before the final brainstorm and destruction of the coda (10:15).
Richard-Hamelin, timing at 12:01 to Vinnitskaya’s 11:18, offers a steadier, more mannered Andante con moto. His introduction has more sinew but less beauty. His first theme is more forthright, less melancholic yet still ambivalent. In the first episode he reveals more ominous power in the left-hand, the right a ghostly shadow: I prefer Vinnitskaya’s even pp as marked. Yet his growth of the first theme through duet and trio presentation is more vividly dramatic. For me he makes too mannered the tempo changes and rests during the second theme presentation where Vinnitskaya’s is more magical. Richard-Hamelin’s climaxes of the introduction and first theme are splendid, as is the eeriness of the return to the first theme in canon. His devastating loud passages have more fire than Vinnitskaya’s, but she makes more entrancing the first episode recall.
Impromptu 3’s cyclical theme seems a continuous loop of fluent, happy sound which Vinnitskaya stylishly reveals. Marked Vivace, here’s animation which never seems rushed, often climbing an octave to coloratura D flat (first at tr. 7, 0:37). Vinnitskaya’s beautifully shaped second strain (0:43) features the first descending chromatic phrases which today seem bluesy, with a seven-note motif extensively used from 1:21. The central section (2:10) has a baritone melody, patient but growingly fervent, against a tricksy accompaniment in the right-hand, well balanced by Vinnitskaya so you imagine a lady dancing around the male singer. The return of the cyclical theme is then unassuming but blithe, Vinnitskaya’s placing high and low notes assured.
Richard-Hamelin, timing at 5:43 to Vinnitskaya’s 4:55, offers a steadier Vivace with more emphasis on crisp articulation than Vinnitskaya’s flow, tied notes across the beat more apparent, a sense of active involvement with sparkling effect. Richard-Hamelin’s second strain is a mite slower and cooler, but his chromatic descents and poised attention to high and low notes come equally from very clean sound. His central section boasts a more ardent baritone, arguably over dominating the accompaniment.
Impromptu 4, also called Fantaisie, has the most compellingly dramatic cyclical theme and most beguiling, even smoochy, central theme. Vinnitskaya displays a flurry of nervous energy in the cyclical theme and great momentum to its con forza ff climax (tr. 8, 0:56). Her central theme (1:07), più lento and sostenuto, has a limpidly emotive quality, emphasising lyricism with just the occasional flicker of anger and protest (firstly at 1:55). Vinnitskaya brings unremitting thrust to the opening tempo return of the cyclical theme, but the loving central theme has the last word, sotto voce ending the coda in the left hand.
Timing at 5:39 to Vinnitskaya’s 4:51, Richard-Hamelin still offers Allegro. Call Vinnitskaya’s Allegro molto, yet her lighter articulation for me conveys the other marking, agitato, better. Richard-Hamelin impresses in the stony quality of his cyclical theme and more electrifying con forza climax; but his central theme and its accompaniment, clearly articulated, lack Vinnitskaya’s warmth.
A closing comment on the recordings. Both have good piano presence, but while the Analekta places you on the front row, the Alpha has you a little further back. Which do you prefer in concert: close up and personal or with more perspective? It will affect your appreciation of the interpretations.
Michael Greenhalgh
