Wilde plays Chopin at the Wigmore Hall - CD Booklet

Chopin at the Wigmore Hall

DCD34010

DELPHIAN

W i l d ep l a y s

Also available from Delphian Instruments from the Russell Collection John Kitchen, harpsichords and fortepiano DCD 34001 A stunning programme of works performed on a variety of keyboards from Edinburgh’s venerated musical museum. Repertoire includes works by Byrd, Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, Greene, Couperin, and Forqueray. Photographs and descriptions of all nine instruments enhance the booklet. A must-have item for early keyboard enthusiasts worldwide.

‘Something for everyone in a recital that is both entertaining and instructive.’

- BBC Music Magazine

Within a Mile of Edinburgh John Kitchen, fortepiano; Malcolm Green, baritone DCD 34005 Baritone Malcolm Green joins John Kitchen in a sprightly drawing room concert from eighteenth-century Scotland, with folk songs from Robert Burns and the Scots Musical Museum and the fortepiano works they inspired. Includes premiere recordings of works by J.C. Bach and J.L. Dussek.

MacMillan: The Piano Works MacRae: Piano Sonata Simon Smith, piano DCD 34009

David Wilde in the Leibniz Library,Wolfenbüttel, Lower Saxony.

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The magnificently torturous Piano Sonata of Stuart MacRae earns a premiere recording alongside the spare and atmospheric complete piano works of James MacMillan. Simon Smith astounds in his debut.

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DAVID WILDE has been a frequent soloist at the Henry Wood Proms, where he has played Mozart with Horenstein and Tippett with Downes. In 1962 he was soloist at the Royal Concert, presented to the Queen by Sir Malcolm Sargent. The same year he shared with Jacqueline du Pré the honour of opening the BBC's second television channel in the north of England, with Sir John Barbirolli and the Hallé Orchestra. Since then he has toured with every major symphony orchestra in Britain and many abroad.

Wilde devoted most of his energies in the late nineties to fighting in defence of Bosnia-Herzegovina. In 1994, in the middle of the siege, he travelled to Sarajevo on a United Nations humanitarian flight to express solidarity with his Bosnian colleagues, and to play and teach, responding passionately to everything he witnessed. This experience led him to compose a series of works inspired by distress about human rights abuses in our time, including “The ‘Cellist of Sarajevo”, dedicated to Vedran Smailovic, played the world over and recorded by Yo-Yo Ma for Sony Classical, and the opera “London under Siege”, about the siege of Sarajevo, written in collaboration with the Bosnian poet Goran Simic. He was awarded the Priz Liberte in 1996, for services to human rights in Bosnia-Herzegovina and throughout Europe. In 2001 he was made an honorary citizen of Canton Sarajevo.

He can count among his teachers Solomon, Franz Reizenstein, Iso Elinson, and Richard Hall. In Budapest in 1961, DavidWilde won a first prize at the prestigious Liszt-Bartok Competition. On the distinguished jury was the legendary Nadia Boulanger, who invited him to study with her in Paris.

A senior award from the Caird Foundation of Dundee enabled him to accept the invitation in 1963, and he remained in contact with “Mademoiselle” for the rest of her long life. Pianist, composer, conductor, teacher, contributor to several books on music, creator and presenter of radio and television programmes, protester for human rights; David Wilde has successfully worn many hats. In 1981, after several years as a solo artist, he was appointed professor of piano at the Hochschule für Musik und Theater in Hannover, Federal Republic of Germany, where he and his wife lived for 20 years. He has continued to grace concert platforms in Germany, Hungary, Russia, and the United States.

In March of 2000 he returned with his wife to Britain.

He now lives near Edinburgh, where he teaches at the University and continues to compose.

Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849) 1 Scherzo No 3 in C sharp minor, Op 39 2 Mazurka in C sharp minor, Op 50 No 3 3 Nocturne in E major, Op 62 No 2 Sonata B minor, Op 58 4 Allegro maestoso 5 Scherzo - Molto vivace 6 Largo 7 Finale - Presto, non tanto 8 Mazurka in C minor, Op 56 No 3 9 Mazurka in C major, Op 24 No 2 10 Tarantella, Op 43 11 Polonaise-Fantaisie, Op 61 12 Berceuse, Op 57

Total playing time [77.27]

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[8.20] [4.27] [5.42] [9.46] [2.13] [10.39] [5.20] [5.10] [2.18] [2.57] [16.12] [4.19]

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is appearance formed a harmonious whole. . . his blue eyes were more spiritual than dreamy, his gentle, delicate smile held no trace of bitterness.”

So wrote Franz Liszt of Frédéric Chopin. But he goes on to say: “His imagination was fiery, his emotions violent and his physical being feeble and sickly”, and adds “Who can possibly plumb the suffering deriving from such a contradiction?” Chopin himself was sometimes irritated by his reputation for gentleness in performance; “Why do people constantly remark how softly I play?” he snapped. “Do they not know I am sick, that I haven't the strength?” And to a pupil who apologized for snapping a piano string, “If I had your strength and could play that polonaise as it should be played there would be no string left unbroken by the time I had finished.” Chopin's contradictory nature included an androgynism of which only one half became the normally accepted “authentic” image.This feminine, gentle aspect is certainly a part of the musical reality, and a very beautiful part, but it is not the whole picture. His music ranges very wide indeed, and includes an element of physical passion and a feeling for the heroic and for dramatic tension no less arresting than that of Liszt, and in my view often more elegantly formulated. Chopin was no lazy miniaturist incapable of sustained thought, but a master of economy of form, and an avant gardist of his time, whose originality surprises us still. And although he knew how to console, he was also a disturbing composer.

Scherzo No 3 in C sharp minor, Opus 39 (1839) Balzac wrote of Chopin's music that “it could only be the song of a soul that was struggling to achieve consciousness”—a remark that could well have come from Carl Gustav Jung. Indeed, Chopin's romanticism, like that of Schumann (with whom he otherwise had very little in common), breathes the spirit which was to lead to expressionism in the light of later psychoanalytical developments. And his dreams are not always sweet; often they are full of inner turmoil, and of aspirations frustrated to the point of nightmare.

Out of such a nightmare, it would seem, the Scherzo No 3 was composed. It retains the very fast three-in-ameasure tempo (experienced as one-in-a-measure) associated with the term Scherzo, but frankly abandons the expected ternary (ABA) format derived from the third movement of traditional four movement sonata form. Chopin had used ternary form clearly in the Scherzo No 1 in B minor, and it's still intact in No 2. But in the C sharp minor Scherzo he substitutes “first movement” form, thus combining two facets of sonata form in one work.

First movement form is a dramatic form with expressive possibilities akin to Greek tragedy.

Characteristically, it presents an epic confrontation between incompatible elements, and it is so in this case.

The Scherzo begins Presto con fuoco—very fast and with fire—with a breathlessly agitated introduction, leading to the powerful, threatening first subject, beginning in double octaves, in the home key of C sharp minor.The second subject is a spacious chorale, full of faith and hope; the sections of the melody are 3

In September 1994, a few weeks after I played this programme in the Wigmore Hall, I travelled to besieged Sarajevo to express solidarity with my Bosnian colleagues, whose courage, dedication, and open declaration that “music is more powerful than bombs” had moved me to action. In Sarajevo, I played this programme in two separate parts; I presented the first part as a mid-day recital in the Sarajevo Music Academy, and I played the second part during one of the regular Sunday afternoon concerts in the Kamerni Teater presented by the Sarajevo String Quartet.

Despite the risk to life, the theatre was packed, and the atmosphere intense. There was no electricity.

We played by candlelight.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Frédéric Chopin: profiles of the man and the musician.

Alan Walker, ed. London: Barrie & Rockliff, 1966.

In Search of Chopin. Alfred Cortot, trans. Cyril and Rena Clarke. London: Peter Nevill Ltd, 1951.

The Life and Times of Chopin. Adelaide Murgia, trans.

C.J.Richards. London: Hamlyn, 1967.

There is a great theatrical tradition in Bosnia, and before the performance of the Polonaise-Fantaisie I asked the distinguished actor Dragan Jovicic to read the following statement, in Bosnian: Recorded live in Wigmore Hall, London Tracks 1-9 & 12 recorded July 1994 Tracks 10 & 11 recorded February 1995 Producer: Antony Hodgson Recording Engineer: Geoffrey Addis Executive Producer: Kevin Findlan Design and Photography: © Delphian Records Ltd 2002 Delphian Records Ltd ©2002 Delphian Records Ltd Delphian Records Ltd PO Box 17179 Edinburgh EH12 5YD www.delphianrecords.co.uk

“ . . . he (Chopin) was for his compatriots the voice of a nation whose spirit was never conquered by the oppressor.”

Let that voice speak now for another beleaguered European nation whose spirit will not die: bombarded and betrayed, lied about and schemed over, subjected to a Nazi-style holocaust that is cynically described as a ‘civil war’, yet holding on and even—artistically—flourishing: let Chopin's PolonaiseFantaisie speak today for the people of Bosnia-Herzegovina.” © David Wilde, 2002

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produced violent and often fatal effects. Chopin's version, with its wildly accelerating tempo, captures its frenetic mood superbly, but curiously has not always been praised for doing so. I quote Arthur Hedley, who writes, “there is no Italian gaiety in the work: the composer is bent on killing or curing the poor victim of the tarantula's bite.”

restless, and even the apotheosis sounds like a declaration of faith that right must and shall prevail, rather than a victory peal. The last A flat chord does not resolve the drama; instead, it hovers in the air, like a question that may not be evaded. It is left for us to find the answer.

Berceuse, Opus 57

Polonaise-Fantaisie Opus 61 (1846)

This tender cradlesong in D flat major is a continuous series of variations on a brief melodic fragment, in which the right hand seems to improvise a neverending melody over an unchanging, rocking accompaniment. The melody sings freely in the language of the piano—unfettered by the limitations of the voice—and a brief excursion into G flat, via a haunting flattened seventh, begins the infant’s slide into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chopin reserved the polonaise for outpourings of love for his tragic country. The one in A major, the famous “Military” Polonaise, became a symbol of Polish resistance during the second world war, and it was my privilege as a boy to play it at forces’ concerts for audiences which included Polish airmen fighting alongside the RAF. The three greatest of the Polonaises are epic tonepoems. The Opus 44 Polonaise in F sharp minor is a merciless portrayal of the horrors of war worthy of Goya—sparing us nothing and ending with what Liszt described as a “convulsive shudder”, while the Opus 53 Polonaise in A flat, known as “The Heroic”, is a triumphant call to arms. The last of the three, the Opus 61 Polonaise-Fantaisie —which, like the E major Nocturne, was composed only three years before Chopin's early death— seems to indicate that, had he lived, his music might have developed along completely new lines. Here the polonaise rhythm is a germinal element in a kaleidoscope of impressions and feelings, the traditional dance often hidden in the general musical context, or used flexibly as accompaniment to some of Chopin's most impassioned melodies. The piece is searching,

interspersed with gently scintillating cadenzas, heard in D flat major (Db = C#, the home key in its major form). In the recapitulation it’s announced in E, the relative major, but begins again, sotto voce, (literally “under the voice”) in E minor. Now looking inwards with brooding anxiety, the music gropes its way towards a passage in C sharp major, which hovers expectantly over a sustained dominant bass. From here on it gradually rises in a crescendo as if walking out of the darkness in a spirit of hope. But at the moment of fulfilment, the threatening double octaves in C sharp minor return and shatter this hope as they crash downwards towards the coda—an inferno in the first, fast tempo, again marked con fuoco. The work seems to end triumphantly, triple forte, in C sharp major. But the triumph is of despair, not of hope.

by a charming theme which sings as it dances and dances while it sings. Next comes a virile dance tune, immediately contrasted, Mozart style, with a lyrical theme combining two melodies in soprano and bass.

In the middle section, in B major, with its characteristic repetition of a single motif, it's the melody which determines the pace and accentuation of the music, so that the typically accented third beat in the rhythmic accompaniment is necessarily muted.

After the reprise comes a long coda that builds to an anguished climax, from which a single line sinks down to the epilogue, and to a stark ending in bare fifths and octaves.

Nocturne in E major, Opus 62 No 2 (1846) Mazurka in C sharp minor, Opus 50 No 3 (1842)

The E major Nocturne presents a melody of dignity and simplicity in an unusually low register. Where the typical earlier Nocturnes seem to be written for an imaginary soprano voice or for a violin singing in the language of the piano, this one has an alto or viola tessitura. And the opening melody's character seems far from the salon, and closer to the ancient meaning of the word “Nocturne”—as that part of the Mass that was celebrated at night or at dawn. Then a bridge passage begins to disturb the tranquil mood, and the middle section, marked forte agitato, effectively doubles the tempo and introduces an element of restless yearning. Afterwards the original tempo returns, and with it a shortened and varied form of the opening melody.The piece ends with the music of the bridge passage—now calm and comforting.

Chopin often chose the key of C sharp minor for the expression of his darkest thoughts: the Scherzo in C sharp minor, the Nocturne Opus 27 No 1, the two Preludes and three Mazurkas in this key are al1 from this side of his nature. He wrote of his Mazurkas that “they are not written for dancing”, and nowhere is this more apparent than in this one. Here the dance rhythm is present only as one musical element amongst others.

This eloquent tone poem reminds us that traditionally, Mazurkas sometimes had a narrative role. It is also one of Chopin's most tightly knit compositions, paying homage to both of his great heroes—J.S. Bach and Mozart.

The piece begins with a single line melody which is at once treated in Bach-style canonic imitation, followed 7

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Sonata No 3 in B minor Opus 58 (1844) I Allegro maestoso.

II Scherzo: Molto vivace.

III Largo.

IV Finale: Presto, non tanto.

masters of the First Viennese school, only Haydn wrote a Sonata in B minor.

The first movement begins with a strong, chordal theme, whose opening motif, encompassing a ninth, is the central idea of the whole work. The music of this first subject is a long way from the fiorature of the salon, and equally distant— apparently—from the second subject. I say “apparently” because Dr Walker, quoting Hugo Leichtentritt, illustrates how the two may be fitted one on top of the other with only minor textural alterations, so similar is their melodic structure. It's as if the contrasting qualities of these two themes are contained within the same personality.This second subject is a beautiful Lied ohne Worte, an endlessly unfolding melody that seems to anticipate the Prize Song from Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (1868). The working out of this material in the development section is terse, d r a m a t i c , a n d a s t o n i s h i n g ly i nve n t i ve.

Chopin reverses the traditional order of the second and third movements, so that the Scherzo follows the first movement—as did Brahms in his second Piano Concerto (1882). The character of this Scherzo is far from that of Chopin's individual pieces that bear that name, and is close to Mendelssohn in spirit, if not in style. As is often the case with classical scherzi, there is no indication that the middle section (the traditional Trio) should be played at another tempo, and I take the view that the difference should be slight.

The Largo is worthy of Schubert in its “heavenly length” (Rober t Schumann's description),

This immense work has so often been accused of formal incoherence that it seems necessary to refute such criticism here. That has already been done so brilliantly in the analysis of Dr Alan Walker in Frédéric Chopin: profiles of the man and the musician, that I can do no better than to quote from his article.

Dr Walker's basic thesis is that “Masterpieces diversify a unity”. In the case of the B minor Sonata, this diversification goes so far that the work's essential unity can easily be overlooked— there are at least ten clearly identifiable themes set in a vast kaleidoscope of poetic images. Such fertility of imagination presents problems to the performer, and Dr Walker rightly warns pianists that the first movement, in particular, is structurally treacherous. This could be one reason for the work's uneven reputation, and I therefore absolve the composer from responsibility for any structural defects that may be apparent!

As an answer to those who insist that this piece is weak, but that Liszt's very different but equally outstanding Sonata in the same key is strong, Dr Walker (who is a great Lisztian) reveals a little known fact: Liszt was so impressed with this Sonata of Chopin's that he wrote out his own manuscript copy of it before starting work on his own. It's perhaps significant that both composers chose the same unusual key. Dr Walker points out that Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert all avoided it. Of the 5

its extended paragraphs, its slow-breathing incarnation of universal song. The first theme, like that of the E major Nocturne, is simple and dignified, with minimal ornamentation, and is supported by a gentle chordal accompaniment. In the second theme the boundaries between harmony and melody are blurred, with fragments of melody weaving in and out between the voices and blending into an ever-shifting musical texture. The return of the first theme is accompanied by a rocking bass, and seems to embody “the peace of God that passeth all understanding”.

Though there is no evidence to support the idea, I sometimes feel that the exciting Finale—with its relentless pace, its galloping first theme, thrilling fanfares, brilliant cascades of notes, and triumphant ending—seems to be Chopin's version of the story of Mazeppa, the Polish hero who, tied to a horse and driven into the desert, is rescued at the last moment and proclaimed king.

breathtakingly beautiful coda seems to come upon us as a delicious surprise, and the piece ends on the same chord of C major with which the other Mazurka in this pair of opposites begins.

The C major Mazurka is as different from the C minor as night from day. Direct, simple, happy, it is much closer to the folk dance. Only in the middle section—in a bass melody that repeats a tritone figure again and again—is there a suggestion of the haunting quality of the later Mazurkas.

Tarantella in A flat Opus 43 (1841) Chopin's correspondence makes it clear that a tarantella by Rossini was his model for this brilliant piece—probably La Danza.

To my mind undervalued, the Tarantella belongs to that category of works in national styles foreign to the composer such as Tchaikowsky's Capriccio Italien, Beethoven's Scottish dances, and the Spanish dances in Mozart's Don Giovanni.There are other such pieces by Chopin, the youthful Écossaises and the Bolero, but none of them is so ambitious or convincing as this.

Although unmistakeably a tarantella, it is also clearly one by Chopin, and not by Rossini. The typical tarantella rhythms and harmonies are constantly given unexpected Chopinesque twists, and the work's essentially episodic form enables the composer to throw off one melody after another, all beautiful and highly original. The tarantella is a ritual dance, originally intended by country people as a talisman against the bite of the tarantula, which

Mazurka in C minor, Opus 56 No 3 (1843) Mazurka in C major, Opus 24 No 2 (1834) Despite the nine years’ difference in their dates of composition, these two Mazurkas complement each other perfectly, and I like to play them without a break.

The C minor Mazurka is already moving towards Chopin's final period. A brooding lyric poem full of expressive undertones, it alternates between tenderness and passion.The reprise is approached by a modulatory bridge passage that has been criticized as almost incomprehensible. I disagree: the secret is in the bass, which leads directly into the first theme.The 6