As is his wont, Peter
Katin provides a highly articulate booklet
essay in which he explains his reasons
for recording on this instrument. It
is made clear that this is not the sort
of piano on which Chopin or his pianistic
contemporaries might have played in
public, indeed its limited keyboard
range (six octaves) rules out most of
the bigger concert works; rather, it
is the sort of piano he might have found
in domestic situations while visiting
friends or on which many a gifted amateur
might have tried out Chopin’s published
works for his own enjoyment.
It is not particularly
surprising that it is well suited to
the shallow brilliance of an early work
like the Variations Brillantes, and
the C minor Rondo gets a splendid performance.
But it also proves more than a match
for the rarefied atmosphere of the Souvenir
de Paganini (which, far from being the
flashy virtuosic thing you’d expect
from the title, is a most poetic meditation
on the "Carnival of Venice")
and the beautiful slow movement of the
C minor sonata is warmly played.
It also proves thoroughly
effective for the waltzes, or at least
these three. The so-called "minute"
waltz clocks in at a grateful 1:52 yet
has a wonderful zest without becoming
breathless. The same can be said of
op.64/3 and these would be model performances
on whatever instrument. I thought the
opening of op.64/2 a little clipped
(the theme is better presented later),
but the middle section is beautiful
and it is salutary to be reminded that
the passages marked "più
mosso" don’t have to tear away
at a prestissimo gallop.
The three early Polonaises
go with a joyful appreciation of their
attractions without any attempt to inflate
them into something else. Katin points
out that the Souvenir de Paganini is
something of a blueprint for the Berceuse
– a continually varied theme over a
rocking, constant bass – so it is not
surprising that his gently poetic handling
of the earlier piece should blossom
into deeply satisfying performance of
the later one, every note glistening
yet without any attempt to call attention
to his own virtuosity. To play the Bolero
on this small instrument might seem
risky, but in fact it is remarkable
what a rich and full sonority Katin
extracts from it, bringing the programme
to an infectious conclusion.
I had better say that
my initial impression was far less favourable,
since the op.24 Mazurkas seemed to me
disappointingly dry and almost perfunctory.
I must say that my ideal in these works
is one that has not been preserved in
recorded form. My last teacher, Ilonka
Deckers-Küszler, was a remarkable
woman who had abandoned the concert
stage at an early age and returned to
the world of teaching only in later
life, gathering a crowd of disciples
around her in Milan while remaining
outside mainstream, Conservatorio-based,
Italian musical life. By the time I
went to her, her own technique had rusted
away and generally it was better to
do as she said, not as she did; but
on one occasion she was caught up as
if in a time-warp, her fingers found
the right notes and she played Mazurka
after Mazurka with a range of colour
and poetic fantasy that I have never
heard equalled. I remember in particular
the first two of op.24. In the first,
she somehow enveloped the listener in
the upbeats to the tune, while in no.2
the hurdy-gurdy effects seemed to come
from some distant place deep in the
countryside, sometimes coming closer,
sometimes drawing away again, but never
touching the ground. I shall never be
able to prove whether my memory is a
true one or whether I am embroidering
on the experience; however, confirmation
of a kind comes from an anecdote regarding
Annie Fischer. When Fischer (who had
studied with Deckers-Küszler) heard
that Joyce Hatto was to play the complete
Mazurkas in two recitals in Warsaw,
she exclaimed that this was "suicide!
I can’t imagine that even Ilonka would
attempt such a thing and she really
could play the Mazurkas". (Actually,
Hatto was well-received).
Of recordings that
do exist, I have already
related on this site that the set
of Mazurkas recorded by Nina Milkina
seems to have similar roots to Deckers-Küszler;
in this particular group of four, however,
rehearing several versions, I found
that Joyce Hatto’s expansive
performances have a particular poetic
glow which recaptures for me some of
those distant memories, while Milkina
and Rubinstein (1938/9 versions) go
a little more for the dance at times.
Alongside any of these, I fear Katin
communicates very little to me, or are
the Mazurkas less suited to this instrument?
Somehow, I don’t think
the instrument is the issue, for Katin’s
performance of the C sharp minor Nocturne
yields absolutely nothing to Milkina’s
very beautiful version in terms of poetic
atmosphere and liquid beauty, so I take
it that the differences would remain
in the Mazurkas no matter what piano
was used. Either Katin is not on the
wavelength of the Mazurkas or I am not
on the right wavelength to receive his
interpretations of them. These strictures
regard the posthumous op.68/4 rather
less, and there is the added interest
of hearing an episode which exists in
Chopin’s hand but which was not included
even in the Henle edition.
I hope I have made
it clear that my reservations regard
just four pieces out of eighteen; even
if you agree, there is a great deal
of pleasure and enjoyment to be found
in the remaining fourteen, and a great
deal to think about too. Those with
a fairly comprehensive library of Chopin
recordings played on a modern piano
(including those by Katin himself) should
certainly add this one.
Christopher Howell
see also review
by David Wright
Peter Katin plays his Collard & Collard
square piano (c.1836) 
