Catalogue Connection: 25752

Burkard Schliessmann has been gathering critical praise for some time now. It is, frankly, good to report on a young pianist who concentrates on pianistic color and still respects the music’s structure. The emphasis on color presumably has much to do with his period of study with Shura Cherkassky. Schliessmann has previously recorded Chopin for the Bayer label, to critical acclaim.

So to Chronological Chopin , the current 3-SACD set (the playing order is not as neat as the review title above might imply, given the chronological slant: the op. 45 Prélude occurs in the midst of the second disc while the op. 28 Préludes set on disc one, for example).

Schliessmann provides long and articulate booklet notes explaining his passion for Chopin before quoting reviews of the works at the time of composition, quoting other people on Chopin (from George Sand’s daughter through Nietzsche to Debussy and Anton Rubinstein). The interpretations themselves dwell on beauty and the lyrical. The heart-on-sleeve “passion” that one so often associates with Chopin is either absent or played down; as if to compensate, Schliessmann regularly finds beauties in these scores others are lucky if they hint at. His passion is of an altogether more profound sort. As an alternative method of Chopin interpretation alone, Schliessmann is worth hearing for every pianist and every student of Chopin’s music. Something like the C sharp-Minor Prélude (heard midway through the second disc) works perfectly in Schliessmann’s hands, and he indeed offers a performance of such exquisite cantabile and such enshrouded pain coupled with luminous textures that one forgets all others while listening. He starts, though, with the B-Minor Scherzo, and his opening may surprise many. It is neither fire-breathing nor overly careful; the impression one gets is of a pianist for whom every note must speak. Similarly, his First Ballade becomes more multi-faceted than any other in this reviewer’s memory; it even includes jocular moments. The coda might by many be labelled “slow”; it dances and flickers rather than storms. Welcome to the world of Burkard Schliessmann. There is every danger that the listener will either love it or hate it.

Schliessmann and his Steinway (impeccably recorded at Teldex Studios, Berlin) make such a burnished tone it seems impossible to imagine an ugly sound. Indeed, such an idea clearly has no place in Schliessmann’s Weltanschauung . It is this, plus his intelligent approach, that makes his F-Minor Fantaisie stand out, his liquid delicacy ravishing the ears while his analytical side takes the steering wheel and guides the listener expertly (and probably unknowingly) through the piece. The 24 Préludes have their quirks: the left-hand of the G-Major, for example, sounds like it is notated in fast eighth notes rather than sixteenth notes. These slower tempos may worry some-the Presto con fuoco No. 16 does rather sound like a practice speed-yet even doubters cannot surely fail to come under the spell of Préludes such as the E-Minor (beautifully shaded and dark). The final D-Minor is underpowered; but this remains an important performance.

I doubt there is a more beautiful Fourth Ballade on record, nor a more beautifully recorded one. Indeed, the final disc is arguably the crowning glory of this set. The articulation at speed in the Fourth Scherzo is remarkable, as is some of the sonic beauty encountered here. No surprise, therefore, that the Berceuse and Barcarolle are absolutely magical, the Berceuse revelatory in its inevitable unfolding, the Barcarolle less pedalled than one might expect, more able to stand up for itself. Finally, the huge interpretative challenge of the Polonaise-Fantaisie. This is a piece that suits Schliessmann perfectly; the deconstructive elements are laid bare for all to hear. Single lines speak volumes. As the piece attempts to reclaim its Polonaise status, we are sucked into the elusive argument of one of Chopin’s most interpretatively demanding pieces.

A remarkable set, in many ways.

From the LP era on, my Chopin collection tends to break it all down by genre: an album or so of “Nocturnes,” “Scherzos,” etc. That’s fine but then you tend to think of the music in genre blocks. Pianist Burkard Schliessmann had the good idea to select some of the very finest gems and to play them in chronological order, so we can get a first-hand glimpse of the developments that took place in his style over time.

The result is Chronological Chopin (Divine Art 25752 3-CDs). This is a three-SACD set, which means you can play it in surround sound on a player that is capable, but also still enjoy it on two-channel systems with a conventional player. The sound is brilliant either way.

Burkard Schliessmann gives us impassioned readings, beautifully, poetically realized performances with maximum affective impact yet full command of the notes. He is not by any means a sloppy sort of romantic pianistic vessel, but his phrasings follow the swells of feeling rather than a sort of pinpoint mapping, if that makes any sense. Rubatos and dynamics take us far into the music without sounding the least bit contrived or manipulated. In short he gives us near ideal readings, on the warm side of the possibilities, the interpretive side rather than the supercharged virtuoso-centered side.

Hearing these works in chronological order gives you a feeling of life passing. It may be the earlier Chopin of the op. 28 “Preludes” is already pregnant with the depth of feeling and expressive arcs of his later years. On the other hand the world of the “Polonaise-Fantaisie op. 61” gives us more intensified depth, a more profound sense of how things are (for Chopin) and how a piano work can express that fully, beyond words, ineffable.

It takes some time hearing these works unfold in temporal sequence, and it all will need to be transposed to your own senses in order to grasp what it all means for yourself. So I will leave it to your own impressions over time as you listen to the new sequencing and Burkard Schliessmann’s special way with it all.

It has given me pause, all of this, and given me a new appreciation for Chopin the composer in a lifetime. It is a beautiful set, really rather remarkable. Schliessmann brings to the music a special understanding. Highly recommended.

Earlier performances by this pianist on disc have been somewhat controversial, but this intelligently (and unusually) laid out Chopin program displays much of the sensitivity of earlier Chopin specialists such as Ashkenazy, captured here in a surround sound recording that registers every nuance of the piano. German pianist Burkard Schliessmann’s triple SACD set with state of the art sound and luxury packaging chronicles the works of Chopin in order, showing the composer’s development and is thus informative for scholars as well as being an impressive recital.

This is a large amount of Chopin, uniquely arranged chronologically. For those of us who usually listen in sequence to all four Ballades or Scherzos, this approach gives a fresh perspective on familiar works. Chopin has been integral to Schliessmann’s recorded repertoire for quite some time. He recorded all four Bal­lades, the Fantasy, Barcarolle, and Polonaise-Fantasy in 2002 (Bayer 100348, Nov/Dec 2003). In 2009 he made new recordings of the three previous works and added the Berceuse, Prelude, Op. 45 and Waltz Op. 64:2. In 2010 he made new recordings of Ballades 3 and 4. All of these were released on MSR 1361 (Nov/Dec 2010). Now, for his first release on Divine Art, the recordings are mostly new, done in 2012, 2013, and 2015. Three works from 2009, originally on MSR, are included here (Fantasy, Berceuse, Prelude, Op. 45).

My superlatives for the MSR recording five years ago still hold true, and I fully understand reusing the three works. The new recordings of the other MSR pieces are very similar interpre­tations. I imagine Schliessmann’s keen ear knows those little moments in the old record­ings that made him want to redo them. I am hard-pressed to find any significant differences, and I rank this Chopin among the best available.

The recordings from 2012 and 2013 also included Scherzos 1, 2, and 4, all new to Schliessmann’s recorded repertoire, plus his third recording of Ballade 1. Here I find the contrast between the fiery and lyrical sections to be emphasized. Especially notable is his handling of the transitions between these two elements: whether gradual or sudden, they all make wonderful musical sense. With both the technique and intellect to do just about any­thing he wants, Schliessmann’s strength is in the lyrical, legato melodies that make Chopin’s music such a cornerstone of the piano repertoire. He has all the octaves, chords, and quick fingers called for in the virtuoso sections as well. He does not achieve quite the edge-of-your seat excitement of Horowitz or Argerich; his is a more controlled energy, well thought-out but still brilliant.

This leaves the 2015 recordings: Preludes, Ballade 2, and Scherzo 3. These were the weakest of a strong collection, not because of a lack of beautifully shaped melodies, but because of slow tempos in some of the most difficult sections. Chopin used the marking Presto con fuoco in the Ballade, Scherzo, and Prelude 16. All three works should be faster and more fiery. The Ballade and Scherzo have many wonderful moments, but the Prelude is unacceptable to me. At 1:33 Schliessmann is significantly longer than any others in my collection: most are 1:10 or less. Looking at it mathematically, most pianists take this one at about 10 notes per second; here we have about 7.5 notes. The other Preludes range from excellent (slower and lyrical ones: 4, 6, 7, 13, 15, 17, 21) to OK (5, 8, 12). I suspect they would all have been excellent with a little more time in the oven.

So “Chronological Chopin” has far more strengths than weaknesses. I would go out of my way to hear Schliessmann play any group of these in concert. His approach to all of the music is worthy of study and repays careful listening. The piano sound is spectacular and the booklet notes informative and comprehensive.

Chopin as a soft parlor-music composer with a trend towards Kitsch? Forget that, once you listen to the newest recordings of Burkard Schliessmann. The pianist quotes Robert Schumann in his reflections about Fréderic Chopin, who once said about Chopin’s music “Cannons hidden under flowers”.

The unapproachable, rather introverted romantic genius was a great, noble stylist in absolute music. Not the least bit of literary ‘program’ dilutes the musical appropriation of the world as beauty emerging from pain. There are many excellent Chopin recordings, even though it is not clear to me which one of these interpretations would have been valued by Chopin. The key to this may lie in the treatment of the rubato – rhythmically tight play with songful character. Chopin hated “all stretching and pulling, inappropriate rubato as well as exaggerated ritardando” .

Contemporary composers like Berlioz felt Chopin’s playing rather exaggerated, free and much too arbitrary. Is it possible that Chopin did not allow his students the freedom he reserved for himself?

Burkard Schliessmann’s fascinating approach sees the homage and proximity to Bach as constructive in, for example, the Preludes. Schliessmann prefers a clear structure and line representing controlled emotions: “crystalline clarity as dominating means should impress the harmonic model.” And in respect to liberties in dynamics and rhythm, Schliessmann appears to set his own boundaries, within which he pays homage through an improvising and re-creating approach. But I find it exceedingly exciting that “floating, weightless, endless and finally the grand cantabile of Poetry” grow out of playing such a tight baseline. Schliessmann has studied his favorite composer intensively for a long time. The result is not only convincing, but overwhelming in many aspects. This is Chopin to re-discover and re-listen to.

In chronological order one can experience on 3 CDs: four Scherzi, the Ballades 1-4, the 24 Preludes Op. 28, the expansive Fantasia in F minor Op.49, the Barcarolle Op.60 and the stunning Polonaise-Fantaisie in A flat major Op.61. The Prelude in C sharp minor Op. 45 as well as the Berceuse in D flat major Op. 57 round off the program.

One cannot describe how Schliessmann plays all this, one needs to listen to it. The 5-channel recording will be appreciated by the audiophile.

Contrary to the [review] headnote—pro forma dictates that we group like type works together to cut down on word repetition—Burkard Schliessmann’s Chopin discs do present the composer’s works in opus number order, which in the case of the pieces he has chosen, also happen to correspond to their chronological order.

Burkard thus opens his program with the Scherzo in B Minor, op. 20, composed in 1831, 1832, or 1833, depending on which source listing of the composer’s works you believe more trustworthy. Not in dispute is the fact that the piece was first published in Paris in 1835 by Maurice Schlesinger. As a program opener, the Scherzo is quite an attention-grabber. A tempo marking of Presto con fuoco and a dizzying display of virtuosic effects—cannonades of full-keyboard arpeggios, rapid chromatic octaves, ten-note chords, and other devices—make this one of Chopin’s showier and more difficult works. Because it happens at such lightning speed, the surface razzle-dazzle tends to obscure some of the composer’s quite advanced, if not radical, harmonic concepts, employing deceptive enharmonic cadential progressions and chord resolutions.

Schliessman’s performance of the Scherzo blazes with a fire so bright one can’t help but wonder that if this is what he opens with, what does he do for an encore? The answer is the Ballade in G Minor, op. 23, composed, it seems, not in the white-hot heat of a moment’s inspiration, but more methodically over a period of four years between 1831 and 1835. Chopin began work on the piece while still in Vienna, but didn’t finish it until his move to Paris. It’s said that the ballade, as a musical form, was Chopin’s invention, but unlike in adaptations by later composers, for Chopin the context does not seem to have been programmatic. Rather, it appears that he applied the term to pieces of an episodic, dance-like nature, in which contrasting sections are tied together by recurring thematic motives that are developed throughout. This G-Minor Ballade is one of Chopin’s most popular pieces, recognized even by non-classical music enthusiasts from its inclusion in Roman Polanski’s award-winning film, The Pianist , starring Adrien Brody. More than a vehicle for virtuosic fireworks—though there’s enough of that too—the Ballade contains much music that is deeply moving and which Schliessmann probes with great sensitivity.

The 24 Preludes, op. 28, was a three-year project that occupied Chopin from 1836 to 1839. Comparisons to Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier are unavoidable, but Chopin’s effort differs from Bach’s in three ways: (1) his preludes are not paired with fugues; (2) his procession through the 24 major and minor keys is by relative major and minor—C Major followed by A Minor; G Major followed by E Minor; etc.—and ascending through the Circle of Fifths—C, G, D, A, etc.— rather than Bach’s approach by parallel major and minor—C Major, C Minor—and procession through keys by ascending chromatic steps—C, C sharp, D, E flat, etc.; and (3) Chopin did it only once, whereas Bach did the whole thing over again several years later with a second volume.

It’s interesting that in his [interview for Fanfare ] Burkard speaks of Chopin’s preference for Pleyel’s pianos because it was Pleyel, the younger— Joseph Étienne Camille, publisher and owner of the Pleyel piano manufacturing company—not his father, Ignace, the composer—who commissioned the Preludes from Chopin and to whom the French edition bears a dedication. Payment Chopin received for the work was 2,000 francs, today’s equivalent of nearly $30,000, which should dispel any notions we have of the poor, starving, Romantic composer.

The Preludes—indeed all of the works on Schliessmann’s three-disc Chopin survey—have been etched onto wax cylinders and into record grooves by pianists from A to Z since time immemorial. It would be extremely presumptuous of me to say that Schliessmann betters all of them, any of them, or even the few of them I’ve personally heard out of the hundreds that exist, such as Cortot, Perlemuter, Rubinstein, Ashkenazy, Arrau, Perahia, Ohlsson, Hobson, Argerich, and Arrau. But I can and will say that Burkard Schliessmann has much artistry and poetry to communicate in these works, and he makes listening to Chopin in large doses an unusually enjoyable experience for me.

The rest of pieces on these three discs—the remaining three scherzos, the remaining three ballades, the Barcarolle in F sharp Major, the Berceuse in D flat Major, the Fantaisie in F Minor, the Polonaise-Fantaisie in A flat Major, and the Prelude in C sharp Minor—are all performed by Burkard with equally impressive technical address, attention to expressive detail, and gorgeous tone drawn from his magnificent Steinway grand. Complementing this are the stunning SACD recordings, which capture the subtlest gradations in dynamics with amazing clarity and that take the thunderous climaxes in easeful stride.

If Burkard Schliessmann can instill in me, admittedly not a great admirer of Chopin, a higher appreciation of his music than I have heretofore experienced, imagine the effect Burkard will have on those whose love of Chopin is already vouchsafed.

My introduction to the art of Burkard Schliessmann was an exquisite 1990-1 CD of Brahms’s Third Sonata and Handel Variations . Here was a pianist with a big, luxuriant tone, exceptional technique, and considerable sensitivity and intelligence. All of these virtues are deployed on Chronological Chopin , Schliessmann’s exploration of selected works of Chopin in their order of composition. The Chopin players Schliessmann reminds me of most are Angela Lear and Vlado Perlemuter. Like Lear, Schliessmann elicits a sound in Chopin that emphasizes the piano’s darker sonorities. Both pianists interpret Chopin without wild tempo changes and capricious phrasing. If you are unfamiliar with Angela Lear, I would recommend volume two in her series, The Original Chopin . Schliessmann and Perlemuter share predilections in their Chopin for lucidity of texture and an unforced ease of execution. Their playing is suffused with a sense of Chopin’s nobility. Schliessmann’s renditions also are influenced heavily by Chopin’s love for J. S. Bach. He plays with considerable respect for structure, plus a feeling for the artistic autonomy of Chopin’s edifices. There is no boilerplate, sentimental romantic playing in Chronological Chopin . This is an album with the highest aspirations for expressing the composer’s muse, and in general those aspirations are met.

Schliessmann’s program begins with the First Scherzo. Its dance-like rhythms are paced judiciously to create a seamless texture. The middle section possesses a touching simplicity, while the coda synthesizes the first section’s phrasings marvelously. Schliessmann finds the hint of a mazurka in the First Ballade’s opening portion, as if portraying a Polish landscape. As the work proceeds, the pianist’s inflections propel it forward without compromising a leisurely atmosphere. Schliessmann’s op. 28 Preludes are big and brawny, almost Klemperer-like. The opening prelude already is sweeping and majestic. No. 3 depicts a country festival. No. 5 has the sensation of one’s heart skipping a beat. A windswept rainstorm emerges from loads of pedal in No. 8. No. 11 is nearly a Scottish dance. No. 13 is saturated in romantic warmth. A rattling skeleton inhabits No. 14. No. 16 is almost like a roller coaster, leaving one a little nauseous. A carriage ride with one’s beloved takes place in No. 19. No. 21 possesses a blend of cosmic sonorities, as if depicting the music of the spheres. Schliessmann secures a gorgeous legato in No. 23, offering a brief respite before the dark, fateful final prelude. There’s nothing generic about this pianist’s op. 28. It will make a striking addition to any recordings of the preludes you already may own.

The second CD begins with a fine, broad, spacious reading of the Second Scherzo. It is less demonic than some interpretations, more restless and quizzical. The opening section of the Second Ballade is filled with tranquil beauty. Its Presto con fuoco possesses the spooky mystery of Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto . Schliessmann suggests that for Chopin, quietude can give way easily to horror. In the Third Scherzo, the brief introduction is beautifully paced, sliding into the agitated first section. Schliessmann brings out harmonies in the second section reminiscent of Chopin’s “Funeral March,” with filigree work like falling leaves. The coda leaves one shaken. The op. 45 Prelude receives an exceptional performance, with lovely sostenuto playing. It provides the gentlest meditation on the feeling of foreboding. For the Third Ballade, the second section resembles the appearance of an untroubled ghost in a beautiful mansion. A mixture of chills and excitement characterizes the work’s ending. The Fantaisie is remarkable for its mixture of virtuoso playing with elegant tone. Schliessmann here portrays the noble Byronic hero with sensitivity and élan.

The final CD starts off with the Fourth Ballade in a rhapsodic performance of shifting textures and perspectives. At times playful, at other times dynamic, it reveals an ambivalence in Chopin even in his serene moments. The coda seems to dash everything to pieces. A rather slow interpretation of the Fourth Scherzo emphasizes the warmth in Chopin’s temperament. At Schliessmann’s speeds one can appreciate the craftsmanship in Chopin’s counterpoint, which usually just flies by. The work’s middle section here possesses a rare tenderness. Schliessmann’s Berceuse is stunning, avoiding the trap of being over delicate. Its play of colors shimmers. One can hear a foretaste of Satie. By imposing limits on rhetorical devices, Chopin unravels a rich seam of expression—fully mined by Schliessmann. The Barcarolle receives a big, gnarly reading with much rhythmic subtlety. The pianist finds a cryptic element in late Chopin, with things being said in transitions and on the edges of phrases. There is some very advanced counterpoint that adds to the composer’s ambiguity of meaning. The Polonaise-Fantaisie is almost a polonaise broken up into its constituent parts. Schliessmann apparently sees Chopin shadowboxing with himself, deconstructing every gesture to uncover what makes it Chopin. At times the piece threatens to fall apart, as if the composer cannot ascertain a coherent personality that requires expression. This makes for a haunting and devastating close to Schliessmann’s program.

The sound engineering on the CD layer is warm and full. I was unable to audition the SACD program. Schliessmann’s liner notes are extensive and enlightening. The recordings of the op. 28 Preludes I listen to most often are by Irina Zaritzkaya and Lincoln Mayorga. I also like the Ballades by Bella Davidovich and the Scherzos by Marta Deyanova, the latter being extremely different from Schliessmann. Schliessmann has taken a chronological look at Chopin’s career that is not merely persuasive but ultimately harrowing. It reminds me a little of John Malcolm Brinnin’s book, Dylan Thomas in America , in its depiction of the stresses of sensibility on an artistic personality. Schliessmann will persuade you of the greatness of Chopin to a degree matched by few other pianists. He will not convince you that, as an individual, you would choose to emulate Chopin’s spiritual journey.

This compendium of major piano works by Chopin is a fascinating merger of biography and autobiography. Under the album title of Chronological Chopin, we follow the composer’s development—or lack of it—from Scherzo No. 1, op. 20 (composed 1831–35), to the Polonaise-Fantasie, op. 61 (from 1846). Schliessmann has been dedicated to Chopin for decades, and he provides extensive, very personal notes on his approach to the music and how it has matured to the present moment.

This exploration centers directly on whether Chopin did, in fact, develop or was possessed of such full-blown mastery that, as Scriabin declared, he showed no further development over the course of his creative career. In practice Schliessmann approaches this criticism—if it is a criticism—in terms of Chopin’s allegiance to tradition versus his urge to revolutionize the piano. We’re reminded that when he arrived in Mallorca in the winter of 1838–39, Chopin brought with him Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, which he immersed himself in as he was composing the 24 Preludes. This and other observations cause Schliessmann to argue that clarity and structure are among the most important aspects of Chopin interpretation.

One interesting section in the program booklet contains a series of quotes about the composer from other famous figures. Schliessmann seems to identify with Nietzsche’s comment that Chopin respected the prevailing “harmonic and melodic conventions” while at the same time “like the freest and most graceful spirit [is] playing and dancing in these fetters….” When I think of the usual adjectives applied to Chopin’s music, such as poetic, Romantic, rhapsodic, and noble, the one that rises above the rest is liberating.

Intelligent and accomplished as he is, Schliessmann is well placed to speak about how liberated Chopin performance should be. These are highly distinctive readings, and despite his frequent return in the program notes to structure and balance, the pianist is an exciting performer; his distinctive ideas are carried through at the keyboard with almost Golden Age boldness. The comparison isn’t accidental. In his studies Schliessmann counts master classes with Shura Cherkassky, and he tells us that he’s most comfortable playing pianos with rich bass from the 1920s and 1930s. For these recordings, made in a Berlin studio over a span from 2009 to 2015, Schliessmann brought in his personal Steinway Model D-274; it has been recorded in rich, lifelike sound that has no flaws as heard in regular two-channel stereo. In his enthusiastic review of a 2015 Bach album by Schliessmann ( Fanfare 38:4) Jerry Dubins praised the “SACD recording that projects the piano right into your listening space with a three-dimensional effect.” I imagine that much the same is true here.

Born in northwest Bavaria and trained in Frankfurt, Schliessmann is also an organist of such abilities that he had memorized Bach’s complete organ works by age 21. One senses in his strongly voiced Chopin playing, which at times reminded me of Claudio Arrau, that the sonority of the organ isn’t far away; in addition, there’s an organist’s technique in the way equal weight is given to the tone of each note. He is also gifted with an instinctive sense of Romantic phrasing, which allows him to be spontaneously expressive without veering into idiosyncrasy.

Personally, I find the Golden Age side of Schliessmann’s playing very appealing. He has little interest in gossamer filigree or a salon style of making Chopin elegant and miniaturized. Therefore, his choice of bold works like the Scherzos and Ballades takes advantage of his strengths. I’d advise turning to these pieces first to appreciate the combination of power and naturalness that characterizes these three discs. This isn’t to imply a lack of lyrical warmth—Schliessmann adapts beautifully to the flowing gentleness of the Berceuse and the beginning of the Barcarolle while remaining true to his view that Chopin performance is always about concentration and a tensile line. In the Preludes he is so sharply focused that you never feel a single chord falters, much less the forward-moving line.

Overall, if you favor strong-minded Chopin, as I definitely do, this set will bring considerable satisfaction, both musical and emotional, along with an intriguing read of the pianist’s sharp ideas about many aspects of Chopin’s introverted yet passionate personality. It’s beguiling to ponder Nietzsche’s hyperbole when he said, “I myself am still Polish enough to give up the rest of music for Chopin”

The inclusion of an all-Chopin program at the end of a monthly column devoted to the baroque may seem a little odd, but then Frédéric Chopin was a different kind of romantic composer. As the present artist, German pianist Burkard Schliessmann, observes, “Chopin’s own sense of Classical form made him a stranger to the world of phantasmagoria” – the world that absorbed much of the creative energies of composers such as Schumann, Weber, Berlioz and Liszt. In Chopin, by contrast, the feeling often strikes us clearer and at a deeper level because it comes to us through the music itself, without any extra-musical associations. With his aristocratic sense of style and his classical training, Chopin is always precise about what he has to say and was not prone to “wander about,” as other romantics were from time to time.

From the interpreter, Chopin requires the balance and clarity that Burkard Schliessmann brings to these recordings. Even amid the sound and fury of the most tempest-driven passages in such works as Ballade No. 2 in F, Op. 38 and the Polonaise-Fantaisie in A-flat, Op. 61, powerful chords in the left hand must never be allowed to overpower the poetry, the delicacy, or the poignancy of what the melody is saying.

Nor are Chopin’s lighter passages mere decorative filigree. Even in the briefest of his 24 Preludes, Op. 28, a half-dozen of which are less than a minute’s duration, there is musical substance, and Burkard is keen in bringing it out. Taken as a whole, Opus 28 is among Chopin’s most difficult works to perform as well as we hear it done in the present recording.

These preludes mystified critics and performing artists alike for many years. Robert Schumann, for instance, was perplexed by them: “They are sketches, beginnings of études, or, so to speak, ruins, individual eagle pinions, all disorder and wild confusion.” The bewilderment exists only as long as one persists in viewing them as individual character pieces, rather than as a whole. Chopin was admittedly inspired to write the Preludes by the example of J.S. Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, though he did not emulate Bach’s practice of composing preludes in every major and minor key, separated by rising semitones. In keeping with contemporary notions of harmony, his immediate model was probably a now-forgotten work by J. N. Hummel, a set of 24 preludes in all major and minor keys, Op. 67. Here, as Chopin was to observe in his own Op. 28, the chosen key sequence was a circle of fifths, with each major key being followed by its relative minor.

Alexander Brailowsky always said that the technique used to play Chopin’s music should be “fluent, fluid, delicate, airy, and capable of great variety of color.” That is easier said than done. One also has to observe the formal structure of Chopin’s music in order to bring out the poetry, or else all you will have is incontinent rhapsodizing, which is definitely not the impression one gets in Chopin’s music or Schliessmann’s performances of it. In his discussion of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie, Op. 61, the artist stresses that the maestoso character of this work calls for something that will, in the words of Franz Liszt, “bear the load, maintain equilibrium, and yet remain weightless.” In the last analysis, that is something that is to be perceived intuitively (a quality for which Schliessmann is well-known, by the way) rather than described and notated objectively. As we Americans say, “You either have it, or you don’t.” Burkard certainly has it.

The novelty of this packed and polished box set, not to mention the key to the meaning behind it, is to be found in the opening sentence of German pianist Burkard Schliessmann’s sleeve notes, in which he refers to the opinion once expressed by Scriabin to the effect that Chopin, a “one-sided” composer, had not brought about a revolution in piano music, or added anything new to the repertoire, because his works showed little or no evidence of either technical or artistic development over the course of his career.

Taking this as his starting point, Schliessmann set out to put together a chronological survey of some of the Polish composer’s greatest works (the Four Ballades; the Four Scherzos; the Preludes, opp. 28 and 45; the Fantaisie, op. 49; the Polonaise-Fantaisie, op. 61; the Berceuse, op. 57 and the Barcarolle, op. 60), in order to refute Scriabin’s claim, and to demonstrate not only the revolutionary nature of Chopin’s music, but also the way in which his compositional technique evolved over time. Generally speaking, he has achieved both this and the other, undoubtedly more ambitious, goal that he set himself – that of considering the Chopin sound in isolation from the cliché long associated with it, namely that his pianism, his status as a composer and his artistry must be inextricably linked to his permanent ill health and instinctive reclusiveness, factors that precluded him from developing the kind of career embarked upon by a performer-composer such as Liszt. In his lengthy and detailed introductory notes, Schliessmann points out how living with illness and the consequent awareness that his life was likely to be cut short may have played a part in Chopin’s focusing on writing for the keyboard. C, famous for his delicate (for which read “weak”) sound, his controversial rubato and his powerful and seductive phrasing, all of which has turned him into an icon of a certain brand of Romanticism, far beyond the sphere of music. Schliessmann (unsurprisingly for a pupil of the legendary Cherkassky) is therefore keen to favour a “Classical” line, aided by his majestic Steinway, with its full, round tone, making much use of marcato (occasionally, in my opinion, a little too much – in the Fantaisie in F minor and some passages in the Polonaise-Fantaisie, for instance) and with a tempo selection that enables him to highlight the issue of rubato (this is particularly evident in the Fourth Ballade).

In presenting this chronological selection of works by Chopin, based on the cornerstones of the Scherzos and Ballades and seen through a Classical prism, the artist succeeds in disproving Scriabin’s claim and demonstrates the unquestionable developments in the composer’s musical conception – from the “liquidity” of the Second Scherzo to the “density” of the Third and the “explorations” of the Fourth, to give just one example. And he does this by means of a sound that takes Chopin’s music back to the bare bones, declaiming rather than hinting, emphasising rather than whispering, thereby putting the Polish composer’s pianism on the same tonal level as that of Schumann (another Romantic musician whose illness, albeit mental rather than physical in this case, has so influenced subsequent perspectives on and interpretations of his work). To be clear, Schliessmann’s approach may please many, but it may also seem out of place in purist terms, given the “powerful” sonorities he produces, associated with the idea of a hale and hearty Chopin, a long way from the abyss of ill health and any fear of premature death. In other words, a Chopin contextualised within his own time and within that stylistic continuity in whose creation he played such a fundamental and unique role.

A more traditional choice of music than usual from the eclectic Divine Art label, this three CD set nevertheless positions itself with their more ambitious catalogue due to its sheer volume and limited subject matter. Performed by the German pianist Schliessmann, well known for his Romantic playing style and a self-confessed devotee of Chopin, it is clear this is a homage to the composer.

Most of the pieces he’s chosen in his “through Chopin’s life” type theme are all examples of Chopin taking an established style and turning it on its head. The Preludes are an obvious example and it’s pleasing to see the oft omitted, but fascinating Op. 45 included. However, the Scherzi too reflect this type, their content being emotional, lyrical and sometimes volatile but never much of a “joke”. Similarly the Mazurkas, for years falsely believed to be directly derived from Polish folk music, are completely of Chopin’s own creation and are even now considered to be of a unique genre sometimes known as the “Chopin genre”.

This juxtaposition with the conscious choice Schliessman takes, to tone down the romanticism of the performance and highlight the Classical genre Chopin was so influenced by, makes for an interesting listen. For many Chopin is a Romantic composer, yet suddenly the influence of Schubert and Beethoven shine clearly through. Most of all you can hear the legacy of Bach both in the forms and in the constant fugue-style movement of much of the music.

Unfortunately, despite the use of a Steinway to record and the skill of Schliessman, the producers have somehow managed to introduce a slightly muffled sound that lends itself ill to Chopin’s pianistic vitality. Plus, though less fitting with this concept, it’s still sad not to see any of the exquisite Nocturnes or Polonaises.

It takes dedication to get through the three CDs, and there are equally well played but more easily accessible Chopin recordings. Yet no one can deny both the beauty and the well-placed interpretation of the performance, and as a clever “biography in music” of a great composer there’s little to fault.

This 3CD box set (Super Audio CD) is self-explanatory by the title, and it seems pointless to type out Schliessmann’s extensive sleeve notes, which range from the technical to the more understandable to laymen such as ourselves (“Chopin was a gifted tunesmith”).

Schliessmann writes at length about Chopin’s genius and technical brilliance and while Schliessmann might not be able to compose to Chopin’s standards, he can play. (In fact he’s an annoying over-achiever, not only being able to hold his own on the keyboard but a professional scuba diver and ambassador for the Protecting Of Our Ocean Planet programme, as well as being a philosopher and photographer).

Unaccompanied, anything can drag after a while but Schliessman’s performance is so good that we’ve been easily able to listen to one or two of the CDs without tiring, thanks to Schliessmann’s delicate changes in mood and tempo. The works presented show Chopin’s musical development over time, including the 24 preludes, Op 28, the complete scherzi and ballades and other work (say the Press notes).

Excellent, played and recorded to the highest standards.