Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)
Nocturnes
Nelson Goerner (piano)
rec. 2017, Theatre Populaire Romand, Salle de Musique, La Chaux-de-Fonds,
Switzerland
ALPHA 359 [2 CDs: 108]
Nelson Goerner here presents all Chopin’s twenty-one Nocturnes in published
order, see my track listing at the end of this review. I select six
I find especially striking and compare contemporary recordings. Op.
9 No. 2, is probably the most memorable. Its Andante espress
dolce melody is hospitable to any amount of variation, but also
intrinsically dramatic. The accompaniment in three-quaver pattern throughout
offers a stable bass, encouraging reflective melody. There’s only one
theme but its second strain (CD1, tr. 2, 0:55) is a change of mood,
tersely hinting a more clouded time, then regret, then a climax, less
coloratura than earlier displays but marking a decision, painful but
necessary. The coda (2:47), quite long, allows more lingering over the
regret of the second strain, then goes into stratospheric and cadenza
mode, but ends with a lullaby.
Nelson Goerner catches all these elements with great immediacy, combining
clarity and edge, sensitivity and showmanship. I compare François Dumont,
also recorded in 2017 (Ævea AE17044, currently download only in the
UK). More brightly recorded, Dumont uses more rubato which gives his
account a more engaging vivacity, the varied extension and ornamentation
of the first theme appearing more spontaneous, though his accompaniment
doesn’t have Goerner’s poise. Goerner’s strength lies in a sense of
breadth and contemplation as he proceeds, a broader perspective than
his quite formally articulated pyrotechnics. With Dumont the pyrotechnics
are the climax of the contemplation: he makes the dolcissimo
descent from coloratura soprano G to top C special where Goerner appreciates
it (3:07) with limpid clarity.
Op. 15 No. 3 is full of surprises. Its opening is dominated
by a ten-note phrase, languido e rubato, climbing and then
savouring the landscape, often repeated over an accompaniment of extravagantly
dropping crotchet pairs. The second part of the theme (tr. 6, 1:25)
is a kind of sotto voce mirror reflection, angular and probing.
Goerner well conveys the transformation of mood which proceeds to an
impassioned climax. The central section (2:26), also beginning sotto
voce, is marked religioso and from Goerner is a calm,
resolutely progressing parade of devout chords. Its second part is muscular
with short phrases, fzs opening and closing staccato, before
Goerner brings to the coda (4:16) a brooding reverie.
I compare Alain Planès, recorded in 2019 (Harmonia Mundi HMM 90533233,
download only) playing an 1836 Pleyel concert grand, a rare opportunity
to hear an instrument of Chopin’s time. He sweeps through at 4:01 against
Goerner’s 4:32. While Goerner is closer to Chopin’s Lento marking,
Planès makes the opening’s dominant motif perkier, the distinctively
brighter, crisper Pleyel piano sound also significant. The second part
of the theme’s kinship with the first is more apparent, though the climax
less dramatic. Planès brings a more compelling progression to the parade
and the thrust of its phrasing, allowing for a second part which naturally
continues in a more positive than spiky manner, to which the coda brings
a happy fruition.
Op. 37 No. 1 sports a wistful G minor theme Goerner
clarifies downtrodden by ornamentation, especially appoggiaturas, fractiousness
masking otherwise a philosophical acceptance, the contrast of the closing
p phrase of the first strain telling and nicely set apart by
Goerner. His second strain (CD1, tr. 11, 0:28) offers gleams of light
but the first return of the opening with extra decoration suggests this
is just relief. The second return’s ornamentation from Goerner is more
robust, almost jocular in acceptance (1:56). Then a distinctive central
section (2:27), an E flat major holiday parade of crotchets with legato
pedal, a soothingly, warmly reverent procession from Goerner. Next masterly
sleight-of-hand Goerner reveals without any special effects: the first
theme flows more openly and freely, the second strain now intrinsic
to the flow, seeking release which comes through the coda (5:50), just
a cadence, a G major terminus like a blessing.
I compare Jan Lisiecki, recorded in 2020 (review).
Timing at 7:33 to Goerner’s 6:13 he emphasises more the Lento sostenuto
marking. This is like thinking through as he progresses, rather like
walking on stilts. Beginning softly, his second strain doesn’t initially
make the impact of emotional difference that Goerner brings. However,
I like Lisiecki’s gentler central section, gliding really smoothly at
first, but adumbrating a latent power in its repetition. His first theme
returns in a more rapt pp than Goerner’s, then a great ff
flood, yet Lisiecki’s care in such contrasts blunts the spontaneity
Goerner achieves in his freer flow, sense of transformation of mood
in the first strain’s second return and better integration of the second
strain.
Op. 48 No. 1 is the most operatic and powerful Nocturne.
The opening Lento mezza voce Goerner’s right hand
depicts as a sorrowing and scarred beauty in a highly articulated and
embellished distraught arioso. His left hand brings growingly ominous,
antagonistic, goading chords demanding action. A huge melisma at the
end of the first section declaims the soul-searching complexity of the
character’s situation. The Poco più lento central section with
sotto voce opening (CD2, tr. 1, 1:56) recalls happier times,
tension vanished, a steady state parade, arpeggiando garnished. This
works itself up to grandeur, f then ff in both hands
simultaneously, ending in triumphant fervour. Now Doppio movimento
(twice as fast) the opening theme returns pp agitato (3:55).
Goerner brings to the tempo change initially a feel of rhapsody, the
melody within a turbid accompanying swell holding its ground, but gradually
seeming more embattled. A brief, picturesque coda (5:22) charts the
expanse of reference and ultimate desolation. Goerner responds movingly
to all the demands.
Lisiecki times at 5:43 to Goerner’s 5:48, yet for the opening and central
sections, he’s more laid back. His opening has a poised melodic line,
conscious of its own beauty, to which the accompaniment, albeit growing
in power, remains subservient. His huge melisma at the end of the first
section is self-control of the strength that denies emotion. The central
section is calmer, extravagant arpeggiandos a nice contrast because
I find the necessarily slower tempo parade rather wooden. Next, however,
Lisiecki becomes dynamizing in the crescendos and flurry of semiquavers
rising and falling simultaneously in both hands. The reward for earlier
slow tempi is reaped at the double speed closing section. Nevertheless,
the left-hand power is of a force you feel that Lisiecki’s consistently
controlled melody ultimately won’t quell.
Op. 55 No. 1 has an opening melody of heart-wrenching,
forlorn simplicity, despite the second strain’s moments of resolution.
Goerner takes an expansive approach to Andante, allowing reflection
through the line, quite assertive, stoic yet steely. I’d be more moved
by the second part of the second strain more meltingly sorrowing. However,
Goerner charts well the increasingly convoluted manner of the first
strain in its returns leading to a turbulent central section (tr. 3,
2:37), ff and faster, a storm suddenly raging brutally in Goerner’s
left hand against fate calmly accepted in the right. Glimpses of the
second strain appear in the passage leading to a climax (2:58), terminated
by a cascade of semiquavers: Goerner’s have energy but could be more
shattering. Three-quaver groups in the right hand take over molto
legato e stretto (3:55) in what I feel from Goerner is an escapist
fantasy over a sullen ghostly bare memory of the first theme in the
left hand. His coda of arpeggiandos (4:34) is like a luxurious burial.
Planès, timing at 5:24 to Goerner’s 4:54, is even less Andante,
but gets more momentum from the frequent dotted-quaver/semiquaver pairings,
more pathos in the second part of the second strain and more poise in
the sadness of the return of the first strain. In the central section
the huge ff sound Planès creates in the left-hand is arresting,
the contrast with the right-hand’s calm making for a striking duet.
In his more emotive build-up and culminating cascade Planès reveals
more suffering.
Op. 72 No. 1 reveals a three-quaver patterned accompaniment
as an agitator, a gnarled, constant menace beneath a melody of angst.
Its second theme (tr.7, 1:22) provides a brief interlude of a parallel
universe hauntingly promising relief, the melody presented in thirds,
as if with a supporting companion. When we expect the first theme again
(1:52) it transforms into frenzied rising demisemiquavers. Thereafter
it regains some composure and the second theme offers a closing blessing,
but can you forget the climactic brainstorm?
Goerner gives a taut account with a vivid second theme and electrifying
first theme climax. Here’s an extraordinary blend of melody and drama
within a short space; but the opus number misleads as this is Chopin’s
earliest nocturne, though not published until after his death.
Dumont, timing at 3:26 to Goerner’s 3:48, takes less note of the molto
legato marking of the accompaniment. This results in a more mellow
melody and a clearly present but not menacing backdrop. The even lyricism
and flow Dumont achieves renders the second theme a continuation of
mood rather than the special escape Goerner suggests. Dumont’s climax
seems a capricious, transitory cadenza. His coda warmly confirms that
lyricism reigns, but this hasn’t followed Goerner’s apocalypse.
Michael Greenhalgh
Track listing
CD1
trs. 1-3 Nocturnes, Op.9
4-6 Nocturnes, Op.15
7-8 Nocturnes, Op.27
9-10 Nocturnes, Op.32
11-12 Nocturnes, Op.37
CD2
1-2 Nocturnes, Op.48
3-4 Nocturnes, Op.55
5-6 Nocturnes, Op.62
7 Nocturne in E minor, Op.72, No.1
8 Nocturne in C sharp minor, KK1215-22
9 Nocturne in C minor, KK1233-35
