This volume is the first of five to
be devoted to Cortot’s 78-rpm recordings
of Chopin. The planned emphasis is to
be on recordings which have been covered
less frequently on reissues. The booklet
notes cite the early 1926 electric recordings
of the Preludes, which have been more
often neglected in favour of the 1933
versions. The 1950 recording of the
Prelude Op.28, Nr.15, the Raindrop,
has apparently never appeared on
CD outside Japan, and the 1931 Tarantelle
is a premiere CD issue, so collectors
are promised nuggets of recording history
well beyond those in most people’s archives.
The booklet notes sketch
the career of Alfred Cortot (1877-1962)
as conductor, promoter of Wagner in
Paris at the turn of the century, chamber
musician and teacher. It was as a solo
pianist that he became most renowned,
and in March 1925 his was the first
electric recording of a pianist to be
issued. The Preludes on this
CD are his first attempt at a recording,
to be repeated no fewer than four times
between 1926 and 1928. They were made
using Cortot’s preferred Pleyel piano,
and were justly praised for their aural
quality by contemporary critics. The
piano sound is full and solid, with
no lack of bass and very little compromise
in treble definition. There is of course
a deal of surface noise, but having
heard Mark Obert-Thorn’s work on the
Naxos issue of historical Elgar orchestral
recordings I was unsurprised to find
all nasty ticks and pops ironed out
with little or no detriment to the original
sound. Take the dynamic definition in
Op.28 nr.15 in D flat (1926), whose
extended arch builds to an impressive
fortissimo with all threatening
rumblings and eloquently repeated notes
taking the listener on a journey which,
once started, can bear no interruption.
It is fascinating to compare the early
version with the 1950 recording, which
has a more ringing quality and a slightly
greater sense of acoustic, but which
otherwise shows little advance in recording
quality, or indeed change in Cortot’s
interpretation.
There are some messy
moments on these recordings, and commentators
have often noted the technical inaccuracies
in Cortot’s recordings. Made in the
days before high definition sound and
sophisticated tape editing, it is well
to remember that these are more like
snapshots of performances, rather than
the polished, extended and oft-chewed
sessions of the dedicated recording
artist. The image, mood and message
of the music was the important thing,
and to my mind Cortot’s poetic approach
to playing Chopin brings us close to
Chopin’s poetic approach while writing.
Modern pianists will be interested in
the transparency and parlando qualities
that Cortot can create in his Chopin.
Older instruments often have this quality
over their more powerful present day
concert grand pianos, whose makers,
striving for ever more enduring qualities
of sustain, can throw the balance away
from the more intimate qualities of
true pianissimo or the kind of
bass sound that Chopin would have had
in mind when composing.
Cortot is in some ways
the forerunner of modern attitudes toward
pianism. His interpretations will not
seem unfamiliar to most people today.
He avoids extravagances of display or
artifice, never going beyond the service
of the true musician to the text and
intention of the music. This is not
to say that his interpretations are
foursquare or in any way dull or predictable.
Listening to the Impromptus,
there is an irrepressible sense of fun
in the recapitulation of No.1 which
is priceless. The sense of being given
a unique musical gift permeates the
whole set – the playing is self-narrating
in a way which I miss so often in modern
performances.
In short then, this
is the initial volume of a set which
looks like becoming an invaluable addition
to any true piano collector’s library.
The recordings come up fresh as a well-pressed
daisy, and the playing is characterful
and more often than not uniquely insightful
into the immensely varied world of Chopin.
Each time I’m granted the privilege
of listening to a disc like this the
question is raised, ‘what is it that
makes a great pianist great?’
There will always be controversy and
divisions of opinion, but the persuasive
argument for me here is Cortot’s ability
to make Chopin solid and tangible, to
communicate his art both on an earthily
human as well as an elevated poetic
level – simultaneously. That’s not something
you can find every day, is it?
Dominy Clements
Alfred
Cortot
