Wigmore Hall
Chopin: Nocturne in C minor, op.48 no.1; Nocturne in F-sharp minor, op.48 no.2Ravel: Valses nobles et sentimentales
Chopin: Scherzo no.1 in B minor; Scherzo no.2 in B-flat minor, op.31; Scherzo no.3 in C-sharp minor, op.39; Scherzo no.4 in E major, op.54
The op.48 Nocturnes, two of Chopin’s greatest, make for an arresting opening to any recital. This, the latest in Tim Horton’s Wigmore Hall series, was no exception. Again, I was struck by the freshly considered nature of the pianist’s interpretations: not so as to be different for the sake of it, but rather with good musical warrant that had me think – and rethink – pieces I thought I knew well. Both outline and detail of the Nocturnes seemed to stem from their ternary (A-B-A) form. The first section of the C minor Nocturne sounded with stronger differentiation than one generally hears between melody and accompaniment, setting up greater contrast both with the beautifully voiced four-part harmony of the middle section and with the newly turbulent accompaniment of the elaborated return, arising from and audibly growing out of both. The F-sharp minor Nocturne offered, naturally, a different relationship between harmony and counterpoint at its opening, again properly contrasted, and with a different, equally convincing synthesis at the close. This may sound simple, indeed dry, in written form, but in performance offered the key to understanding.
Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales likewise offered ternary form complement and contrast, both in themselves and with respect to Chopin. Rhythmic and harmonic insistence in the first waltz ensured that what followed – not only its immediate successor – could melt and charm, but consequently. Indeed, that sense of the greater whole was a particular strength throughout: these are not pieces to be heard individually, gaining rather from their place in the sequence. Ravel’s emergence from within the spirit and writing of Chopin was clear and meaningful. The tonal interferences to which Jim Samson referred in another excellent programme note – not the least contribution to this series – offered just the right amount of ‘bite’, as we hurtled if not quite to the threshold, then at least in the direction, of La Valse.
Presenting four Scherzi in a row might be thought of as tempting fate. Would they work better as record than concert programme? Not a bit of it, at least in the right hands, that combination of complement and contrast in (broadly, modified or perhaps better ‘extended’?) ternary form again helping shape their success. Without forcing them into too overt a sense of progression between the four, that sense manifested itself through performance and listening: a quasi-sonata of sorts. Extremity of contrasts in the B minor Scherzo’s opening material set the parameters for what was to come, in a way not so distant from Beethoven. (There are scherzos/scherzi after all, even if without Beethoven’s gruff humour.) Yet for all the Classicism of form, which in any case can readily be exaggerated, there was a parallel, even opposing modernism in the fragmentary nature of certain figures. The trio sang, preparing the way (not unlike the Nocturnes at the beginning) for greater fury in the scherzo’s reprise. A resolute lack of sentimentality – who wants to hear a sentimental scherzo? – carried through into the Second, progressively integrative, again connecting back to the opening Nocturnes, and just a little enigmatic. Generative rhythm – present, even when in abeyance – characterised the Third. Might it have been a little more grandiloquent, in keeping with the Lisztian boldness of its opening? Perhaps, but there is no one ‘right’ way in such music, and this offered its own rewards. The turn from minor keys to E major for the Fourth Scherzo maintained impeccable line that took us in new directions, whilst nicely concluding those preceding. Structural integrity underlay keyboard wizardry and poetic expression alike.
