Both concertos date from around 1830, and how amazingly
unlike Beethoven’s Emperor they are. Piano writing was advancing
by leaps and bounds, diversifying in all directions as the instrument
itself developed in terms of its technology. Chopin’s two concertos,
together with the Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise, have
a reputation for shallow sparkle and turgid orchestration but both descriptions
are wholly inappropriate, especially when they are in the hands of sensitive,
informed performers. They have an endless stream of inventive melody,
lyric emotion and lithe energy, while such devices as col legno
(using the wooden part of the bow to strike the violin’s strings, rather
than the hair, to draw the sound) must represent, along with Berlioz
in his Symphonie fantastique from exactly this same period of
1830, an early departure from the conventional approach. Then there’s
the Polish dance (the Krakowiak in the finale of the first concerto)
to catch the spirit and rhythm of Chopin’s homeland, which he left for
good at this time.
I recently reviewed Martino Tirimo’s 1994 recording
on REGIS of the same pair of concertos, which came in at something just
over four minutes longer overall. Only in the Larghetto of the second
concerto, reputedly dedicated to Chopin’s secret love, Konstancia Gradowska,
is Tirimo slower than Leonskaya, so there’s something of a different
approach here in terms of tempos as there is with the conductor’s contribution.
It must be somewhat intimidating to have someone of the pianistic calibre
of Ashkenazy on the podium while you play what is very much his repertoire,
but Leonskaya stamps her own mark on this live recording in a no-beating-about-the-bush
approach, yet, despite the noted faster timings, there is no sense of
breathlessness in her playing, on the contrary her phrasing breathes
and expands to accommodate a stylish feel for rubato in shaping those
warm melodies. The orchestral solos (horn and bassoon particularly)
are too remote from the back of the stage in Prague’s Rudolfinum, and
the string sound has a woolliness in places, but when Ashkenazy lets
them off the leash, the Czech Philharmonic make the most of their moments.
A recording to savour, but listen to Tirimo on REGIS before choosing.
Christopher Fifield
Czech Philharmonic Orchestra/Vladimir
Ashkenazy