The photo of Christina Bjørkøe in the booklet for this release 
                has been placed next to one of Carl Nielsen at the piano – not 
                by chance, I feel, since they both share the same impish grin 
                and impression of lively curiosity and creativity. Having recently 
                looked into the same music played by Martin 
                Roscoe on the Hyperion label, I still felt quite in tune with 
                Nielsen’s piano work when approaching this new release from CPO. 
              
I very much liked 
                  Roscoe’s recording, and set it above Hyperion’s earlier outing 
                  in this repertoire with Mina Miller, but only by an increasingly 
                  dwindling margin when I started re-adjusting to Miller’s sense 
                  of drama and contrast. Having placed Roscoe as top dog mere 
                  months ago, I now however find myself faced with a new release 
                  which seems to push the boundaries even further.
                
Christina Bjørkøe 
                  takes a good 15 minutes longer than Roscoe over the entire programme, 
                  and takes a consistently broader view of much of the music. 
                  This is often not so much the result of significantly slower 
                  tempi, but a willingness to allow light and breathing space 
                  through at certain moments or for extended passages, at other 
                  times building up monumental strength, in a similar way to that 
                  notable recording of Nielsen’s 5th Symphony conducted 
                  by Rafael 
                  Kubelik. Bjørkøe has poetry and lightness of touch in the 
                  Five Piano Pieces Op.3, throwing more rubato than 
                  Roscoe in movements such as the Humoreske. I’m not always 
                  a guaranteed fan of pulling music around in this way, but Bjørkøe 
                  does it in such a winning and stylish way that I was sold immediately. 
                  There is a ‘way’ with this kind of music which feels right, 
                  and while there might be dances which take on a different meaning 
                  with this kind of playing one can sense the spirit of Grieg 
                  and other Nordic composers nodding in sage approval.
                
Unlike both Hyperion 
                  artists, Bjørkøe does play these pieces in chronological 
                  order, the booklet notes pointing out that in the span of Nielsen’s 
                  career he was able to present his first symphony to Brahms, 
                  and was working on his sixth as Shostakovich was on his first. 
                  The Symphonic Suite Op.8 followed on from Nielsen’s 
                  successful first symphony, but while sharing some thematic relations 
                  with that work it also inhabits a closer-knit and more intense, 
                  nervy world. Bjørkøe does linger over some moments more than 
                  other players, but does maintain a natural, narrative feel to 
                  the music, bringing out themes and lyrical lines and often giving 
                  the piece greater appeal than I had previously given it credit. 
                  Listening to the penultimate Andante and final Allegro 
                  you get a feel for the orchestral nature of the music – 
                  Nielsen’s ears still ringing with the sound of his symphony 
                  and reluctant to leave it behind entirely. Bjørkøe allows the 
                  music to develop in much the same way you can imagine a conductor 
                  handling and orchestral score – taking and giving back, reinforcing 
                  tension and scattering resolved tonalities like seeds on a ploughed 
                  field.
                
Bjørkøe’s view of 
                  the Humoresque-Bagatelles is that they are hardly bagatelles 
                  at all, throwing in technical fireworks and emphasising the 
                  emotive extremes in even the most simple sounding of pieces. 
                  The Dukke-Marsch is arguably taken too slow to be a proper 
                  march, but if you can imagine this as the over-emphatic, preening 
                  walk of a highly decorated martinet on full public view then 
                  this can work as well as any other interpretation. There’s not 
                  much you can do with the Festival Prelude for the New Century 
                  than blast it out like an orchestral tutti, and that’s what 
                  Bjørkøe does. Paired with the Dream about ‘Silent Night’, 
                  it heightens the gentle poetry of the latter.
                
The remarkable Chaconne 
                  Op.32 sees Nielsen at first having fun with the ideas, and 
                  then as the span of the work becomes more serious, getting more 
                  and more involved in the working out of solutions both pianistic 
                  and compositionally technical. Bjørkøe hears all of this, and 
                  gives the music all of the space it deserves, layering textures, 
                  presenting thematic relationships without labouring the point, 
                  and urging us to see the humour in the piece as well as its 
                  wild excesses and magnificent single span. The upward runs towards 
                  the end create a quite magical effect.
                
The Theme and 
                  variations Op.40 followed closely on the heels of the Chaconne 
                  in terms of its creation, and after its Brahmsian opening 
                  takes off almost immediately into improbable realms. Weaving 
                  though the twists and turns of this labyrinth of a piece is 
                  once again a joy of intense contrast and verdant wonder under 
                  Bjørkøe’s fingers. It’s hard work, as the music is constantly 
                  demanding out attention, never letting us relax and feel we 
                  can ‘switch off’ for a few moments. I love Bjørkøe’s contrasting 
                  articulation in this piece, and while she can give the most 
                  penetrating staccato her touch is always controlled – the all 
                  important dynamic outer limits held for just a very few significant 
                  notes. The depths of funereal gloom in the central variations 
                  really are deep – dark through understatement, the notes being 
                  allowed to say it all and in their own good time. Without wanting 
                  to labour the point, this is a magnificent recording and certainly 
                  the best performance of this piece I’ve ever heard, right up 
                  to the carefully weighed final notes and chords.
                
Disc 2 opens with 
                  the Suite Op.45. Bjørkøe takes seriously Nielsen’s own 
                  description of the first movement, that it should be “cold and 
                  brittle in tone and in a peacefully flowing tempo...” The alliance 
                  of cold and warmth, even that of leaping flames, can be traced 
                  to an original sketch which is headed ‘Ild og Vand’, or ‘Fire 
                  and Water.’ The second movement is taken at a slower pace than 
                  I’ve heard it done elsewhere, but the mixture of colours and 
                  sonorities works equally well; played “with the tenderest tone 
                  and subtlest pedalling, as though listening.” The Molto adagio 
                  e patetico opens and continues very molto, stretching some 
                  of the rhythmic relationships to the limit – but it works, and 
                  keeps you on the edge of your seat. This is one movement where 
                  timings are of interest, with Roscoe coming in at 4:45 and Bjørkøe 
                  at 7:17. Make of this what you will, but I find she makes this 
                  one of Nielsen’s most memorable movements, certainly in terms 
                  of the piano works. Bjørkøe’s touch in the restrained fourth 
                  and fifth movements is marvellous, and demonic and moving in 
                  the final Allegro non troppo ma vigoroso, though never 
                  losing that attractive transparency of touch which makes me 
                  want to hear her in all kinds of other repertoire.
                
The Three Piano 
                  Pieces Op.59 are in places more overtly pianistic than many 
                  of Nielsen’s other piano pieces, and Bjørkøe takes the opportunity 
                  to flex her chops while keeping true to her fellow countryman’s 
                  style and idiom. The mixture of Debussy-esque colour, quasi 
                  traditional piano writing and temptingly avant-garde moments 
                  are a heady mixture which Bjørkøe relishes. This is a potent 
                  work hiding under the cover of a very innocent title, and this 
                  pianist brings out the best of it from start to finish.
                
The Piano Pieces 
                  for Young and Old are as much part of Nielsen’s own self 
                  declared credo of ‘clarity, simplicity and strength’ as any 
                  of his other works. Again, Bjørkøe takes each miniature as a 
                  jewel in its own right, not imposing artificial significance 
                  on straightforward exercises, but nonetheless imbuing each with 
                  its own musical power and expressive weight in an unfussy, unmannered, 
                  but entirely compelling fashion. The same goes for the little 
                  Piano Piece, a minor flourish, but genuine Nielsen for 
                  all that.
                
For those interested, 
                  the cover art for this release is a painting from around 1898/1902 
                  by Vilhelm Hammershøi, whose atmospheric, silent interiors are 
                  most certainly worth further investigation. As if you hadn’t 
                  guessed already, I am entirely sold on this new set of Nielsen’s 
                  piano music, and would recommend it to anyone wanting to explore 
                  beyond the symphonies. The recording is rich and full, the piano 
                  sound of demonstration quality, and captured close enough to 
                  reveal a whiff the felt dampers rising with the pedal, but also 
                  with a sympathetic spaciousness and a pleasant, non-intrusive 
                  resonance. I would also recommend this recording to anyone who 
                  has tried Nielsen’s piano works and found them ‘hard going’. 
                  No, they are not always the easiest of works, but listeners 
                  should find they get out of the pieces as much as they invest 
                  in terms of their own efforts, and Christina Bjørkøe rewards 
                  us at every turn. Do I prefer this to Martin Roscoe’s Hyperion 
                  set? Yes, but, as I found Mina Miller’s set to be complimentary 
                  to Roscoe’s, I also find Roscoe’s complimentary to Bjørkøe’s 
                  in many ways and certainly won’t want to be without it in the 
                  future. You may not always want the real extremes which Bjørkøe 
                  gives to the music, and some may not find these aspects of her 
                  playing entirely convincing. I do however, and find going back 
                  to other players that I miss the intensity and variety of expression 
                  Bjørkøe finds in the music. She has Nielsen under her skin in 
                  a way I’ve never heard before, and it’s been a real revelation. 
                  Sorry guys – but I urge you, buy Danish.
                  
                  Dominy Clements