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CD: MDT
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Frédéric CHOPIN
(1810-1849)
Waltz in C-sharp minor op 64/2 [3:19]
Sonata No. 2 in F minor op. 35 [22:43]
Ballade No. 4 in F minor op. 52 [10:26]
Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor op. 21 [29:41]
Mazurka in A minor op. 17/4 [4:54]
Bonus Video: Warsaw-Paris
Khatia Buniatishvili (piano)
Orchestre de Paris/Paavo Järvi (Piano Concerto)
rec. 12-15 March 1012, Jesus-Christus-Kirche, Berlin and 13, 15
September 2011, Salle Pleyel, Paris (Piano Concerto, live
recording)
SONY CLASSICAL 88691971292 [70:59]
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I first came across Khatia Buniatishvili on the ECM label’s
Tchaikovsky Trio Op. 50 (see review),
but Sony given her a higher profile through her Liszt recital
of 2011, and now with this substantial programme of Chopin.
Buniatishvili’s own essay in the booklet, Warsaw-Paris,
is pretty impenetrable, and Jürgen Otten’s notes
are also colourful and somewhat subjective in parts. It is however
good to read about these pieces in the context of the composer’s
personal turmoil, travails and troubles.
Personal response to Chopin’s music is something to which
you can warm, or which can all go horribly wrong. Perhaps Sony
sees Khatia Buniatishvili as an answer to Deutsche Grammophon’s
Alice
Sara Ott, but whoever is driving the piano there is always
a fine line between reaching as closely as possible to what
one believes to be the intent of the composer, and expressing
personal responses which can add or detract. The question as
to whether you like any player’s interpretations and performances
will depend on too many factors to make the equally subjective
comment of a review in any way a definitive pronouncement.
So, do I like this CD? The answer is yes, and the reasons are
in fact fairly straightforward. It might seem a strange place
to start, but right in the middle on track 5 of a 10 track disc
we have the bizarre Finale: Presto of the Sonata No.
2. Buniatishvili has a way of teasing her Chopin out of
silence, of traversing the keyboard in a way which isn’t
wafty and vague, but which creates landscapes from a water-table
of infinite nothingness. Some pianists play this Presto
as a kind of storm, which can be highly impressive and exciting,
but when it turns out to be full of melody and inner life, as
Buniatishvili superbly demonstrates, then you know there is
a great deal of sensitivity and intelligence at work. Her lyrical
touch at the keyboard is in evidence everywhere, and though
the tempo is perhaps a little brisk, the Ballade No. 4
sings sweetly and, while expressively flexed, isn’t over-worked
with the tortured rubato to which it can on occasion be treated.
Yes, we’re still working outwards from the centre for
the moment, so let’s have a look at the famous Marche
funèbre of the Sonata No. 2. Buniatishvili
doesn’t over-egg the drama at the outset, taking a forward-moving
tempo and keeping proportion and shape so that the climaxes
can have their devastating effect in context, rather than being
extruded from something attempting to be orchestral and heavy
with portent. Chopin’s funeral is touched with the sentiment
of love and regret as well as the darkness of mortality, and
Buniatishvili brings out this aspect of the music with beautiful
playing and disarming simplicity.
Does having a full concerto work in the context of what is basically
a recital CD? Well yes, why not. The Piano Concerto No. 2
comes from a concert performance which is really gorgeous. The
orchestra is perhaps rather shy sounding, with the piano dominant
in the recorded balance which is always something of a bugbear
of mine, but with Buniatishvili’s chamber-music rather
than grandstanding style the whole thing works like poetry.
The piano entry for the Larghetto second movement is
magical, working the overtone-series like build-up of the chord,
and the singing lines are like the brushstrokes of a master
artist. With its dramas and transparency of timbre this is a
performance which makes you wish the movement would go on for
much, much longer, and that has to be a good thing. Buniatishvili’s
lightness of touch makes the Allegro vivace finale into
something playful and filled with sparkling joy, rather than
something heavy and bombastic.
We are lead in with the C# minor of the Waltz op. 64/2,
which has as much of a major-key feel as it does melancholy
minor. Going back to Alice Sara Ott’s version I can admire
her technique, but am troubled by rhythmic overly-artful distortions
which see elements of the actual waltz-ness of the piece leaking
through rather than being celebrated. Buniatishvili plays the
music with a nice sense of lift which actually makes you feel
more like dancing - getting you to your feet but then whirling
you off into something unexpected and, if you are still trying
to keep up, literally breathtaking. I appreciate Buniatishvili’s
naughty character in this waltz, but its opposite number in
this programme is the killer blow, the Mazurka in A minor
op. 17/4. Almost wilfully, Buniatishvili plays Chopin’s
notes with a sense of directness which heightens their impact,
the composer’s simple but intensely desolate message told
like a rhyme, but in words of unforgettable woe.
Playable on computer, the bonus video on this CD is a nicely
moody black and white period piece, a little over five minutes
filled with nostalgic images of romance, departure, nice dresses
and inclement weather. It all goes a bit strange towards the
end and the editing is a bit random, but for the most part the
effect is convincing enough. Aside from a more coherent narrative,
my main wish with this kind of thing would be a far more imaginative
use of the music. Chopin’s piano sounds are nicely atmospheric,
laying on the Mazurka in A minor as an emotional mainstay
and using and extract from the Finale of Sonata No.
2 as something dramatically avant-garde, but the music exists
in parallel rather than genuine symbiosis with the images. This
neither really sells the album by shaping the film to the shape
of an entire Chopin piece, or creating something new. The latter
could have been achieved with a deeper look into Chopin’s
sonorities and emotional breadth by capturing its essence, rather
than spraying it on in bits and bobs.
There is a masculine vitality to Artur Rubinstein’s playing
of Chopin which elevated his music beyond the pastel shades
of drawing-room entertainment, but Buniatishvili shows us shades
of subtlety and dimensions of dynamic and layers of expression
which resonate greatly for today’s ears. I can’t
guarantee they will for you, but if you love Chopin’s
music I would hope you can hear something in this which allows
it to thrive, even, or especially, in our own scorched and obscurantist
culture.
Dominy Clements
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