Chopin: Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 2. Christian Zacharias, piano and conducting Orchestre de Chambre de Lausanne. MDG Preziosa. $24.99 (SACD).
Sometimes a labor of love can be as much labor as love. That seems to have been the case with these recordings of Chopin’s piano concertos featuring Christian Zacharias – based on the unusually engaging and informative program note about them by Werner Dabringhaus (the “D” in MDG, “Musikproduction Dabringhaus und Grimm”). These performances date to 2003 (Concerto No. 2) and 2004 (Concerto No. 1), and are now being made available on MDG Preziosa, a kind of “archive” label within the firm.
Anybody who believes that classical-music recording is mostly just a matter of microphone placement and fiddling with a few knobs or volume-and-balance adjusters here and there, then letting the musicians play as usual, will be disabused of that notion by reading Dabringhaus’ account of the complexities of these particular recordings, which delve into everything from the inability to use control-area air conditioning to the necessity of rearranging instruments in order to capture sound accurately within a theater setting that was not designed for orchestral performances – all of this after being initially unable to locate the recording venue because of map imprecision. A well-told tale of events that are amusing and worthy of recollection in hindsight but were surely quite frustrating when initially endured, Dabringhaus’ reminiscences provide greater context than listeners usually get when it comes to considering just how a particular recording came to be.
None of this would matter much, of course, if the performances did not turn out to have been worth the effort to capture them more than 20 years ago – and to remaster them for release now in SACD form. Thankfully, though, Christian Zacharias’ sensitivity to Chopin, both as pianist and as conductor of Orchestre de Chambre de Lausanne (of which he became artistic director in 2000), makes this a very worthwhile release that does not require audiences to know anything about its provenance in order to involve them deeply in the high-quality interpretations.
Chopin did not much want to write for orchestra – he did so only about half a dozen times – and it has long been observed that these concertos are lacking in their orchestral accompaniment, which is mostly accompaniment rather than genuine interplay between soloist and ensemble. Nevertheless, the works endure and continue to provide great listening enjoyment thanks to their many manifest charms. Zacharias is quite sensitive to this: his impeccable pianism melds well with a conducting style that treats the 40-or-so orchestral players as collaborators to a somewhat greater extent than the music is typically thought to allow. This becomes clear immediately in the very expansive opening of the first movement of Concerto No. 1 – a movement that is half the length of the entire concerto and significantly longer than any other in either of these works. Zacharias conceives its four minutes of introductory material on a grand scale, taking a genuine Allegro maestoso tempo with an emphasis on the second word. This leads to a grandiose piano entry and a performance that thereafter keeps the soloist in the dominant position that Chopin envisioned but that does not allow the orchestra to fade entirely into subservience. It is a winning and impressive way of handling the material, helping to turn the work into something more closely approximating a Romantic-era concerto rather than a solo-piano work with occasional accompaniment by other instruments. After this large-scale opening, it is lyricism that dominates the always-lovely second movement, with Zacharias allowing the music to unfold at a deliberate pace without ever dragging or appearing on the verge of becoming stale. Expressive warmth dominates without ever becoming cloying – and the result is a very strong contrast when the brisk finale sweeps away the rampant emotionalism in a bright and bouncy krakowiak that gives Zacharias plenty of opportunities to show off his nimble finger work.
Concerto No. 2 (actually written shortly before No. 1) gets equally sensitive and thoughtful treatment. The concertos are structurally very similar, but Zacharias is sensitive to numerous subtle ways in which they differ. The opening movement of No. 2, for example, is approached with less sense of grand scale, and its lyricism rather than anything portentous comes to the fore. Concerto No. 2 is considerably shorter than No. 1 but places equal emphasis on its first and longest movement. Here Zacharias makes less of an attempt to balance solo and orchestral roles, allowing the free flow of pianistic virtuosity to stay in the forefront of a rather one-sided musical conversation. Zacharias’ playing here is more forceful and intense, more overtly display-oriented, than in the opening of Concerto No. 1, although he is still at pains to bring forth the lyrical beauties of the music. The second movement, even more heartfelt than the slow movement of Concerto No. 1, is pervaded by decorative delicacy that Zacharias offers with admirable clarity of individual notes within the many cascades. And the concluding mazurka exudes charm and a pleasant sense of wavelike motion as its themes unfold and intermingle. Zacharias the pianist expertly balances the more strongly chordal passages with the lighter, shimmering ones, and if the orchestra has little of significance to contribute, Zacharias the conductor does make sure that the ensemble material is presented with style and rhythmic flair. This is, all in all, a highly pleasing release that, the exigencies of recording notwithstanding, comes across as demonstrating that, in this case, love’s labor is scarcely lost, even two decades after these sounds were first captured.
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