It says a lot for this disc that, when Gramophone's Editor chose it as
his Recording of the Month and asked me for five listening points, I
came up with nearly four times that number. No single interpretation of
Chopin's Preludes will ever be enough but - just as she demonstrated in
her previous disc of the two Chopin concertos (3/14) - the Argentinian
Ingrid Fliter seems to be able to achieve individuality seemingly
effortlessly, with cherishable and memorable results.
Truly innate Chopin players are rarer than you might think. From obvious
examples such as Rubinstein and Cortot via Argerich and Freire (what is
it with these South Americans?) I would add to that illustrious list
Fliter. She has that magical way of creating an easeful rubato without
ever sounding studied, and holds Classicism and freedom in perfect
accord. Add to that a clarity of vision and a tremendous sense of
purpose and you have a mesmerising set of Preludes. She doesn't ever
sweeten the more acerbic moments: in the Second Prelude, for instance,
she makes no attempt to soften the contours of the left-hand phrases in
the manner of pianists such as Trifonov, who is altogether more
consoling here. And in No 4 Fliter lays bare with utter naturalness the
insistent falling semitone, forming a piquant contrast with the
following Prelude, in which she gives Cortot a run for his money in
terms of shimmery, shadowy elusiveness. In Fliter's readings you truly
feel the complexity and ambiguity of works once described by Schumann as
‘sketches, beginnings of études...ruins...all disorder and wild
confusion'.
One of the aspects that particularly compels
about this CD on repeated listening is the way Fliter encompasses the diversity, the sometimes
shocking juxtaposition of the Preludes, but within a range that gives
them a coherence, a sense of an interpretation as a whole. Take Nos 6
and 7, for instance: here they acquire a kinship despite their different
moods - and despite the fact that No 6 is pretty slow, possibly too
slow for some tastes. But I find myself hypnotised rather than (perish
the thought!) bored: contrast it with Kissin's approach, which ruffles
the melody rather too insistently. Then compare her with Trifonov, whose
live Preludes from Carnegie Hall provide a thrill a minute but who
seems altogether too fast here. In fact he isn't by most standards: it's
simply that Fliter draws so much from the music.
It's not just in slower preludes that Fliter flouts received wisdom
(something she did so gloriously in the concertos, scotching the notion,
aided and abetted by Jun Märkl's charismatic way with the Scottish
Chamber Orchestra, that these are little more than a pianistic vehicle);
she does it too in the 16th Prelude, where the étude-like moto perpetuo
of the right hand is effortless but suitably ‘notey' thanks to her
pinpoint phrasing, while the muscular left hand gains in power rather
than steamrollering its way in, as can happen in some readings (Kissin,
for instance, who is relentless in his strength). By comparison,
Trifonov is faster but he doesn't develop such a sense of menace as
Fliter.
After this, the songful Allegretto of No 17 comes as balm, here given
the range and story-telling quality of a Ballade. It starts innocently
enough; but what is striking is the way she grounds it with the deep
left-hand notes, the repeated A flat at the end tolling like some great
bell but never overshadowing the interplay of the other lines, which
Fliter balances to perfection.
She is a virtuoso of the first order but she holds this in reserve, so
when she does unleash her full technical armoury, it's extraordinarily
potent. She does so in No 14, for instance, matching Trifonov in
powerful élan. On the other hand, the 19th Prelude eschews its Vivace
marking. It's daringly dreamy, perhaps too much so for some tastes but
not mine. The final trio of preludes takes us from the
proto-Prokofievian toccata figuration of No 22 via the most restrained
haloed playing in the daringly withdrawn F major, Fliter really bringing
across its tinkling musical-box qualities, which is all the more
touching when it is banished by the seismic drama of the final Prelude.
Of the remaining works, the two Nocturnes are particularly fine, the
Mazurkas sometimes a degree less inevitable-sounding than some, though
she bewitches in the quick-shifting moods of Op 6 No 1, which prefaces
the third Op 9 Nocturne very effectively. The final Nocturne on the disc
(Op 27 No 2) takes nothing for granted in spite of its fame, less
lushly beautiful than some but altogether more complex, more intriguing.
The recording captures well Fliter's innate beauty of sound,
encompassing the dynamic range with ease. A gem of a disc. (01 December 2014 / Gramophone / Harriet Smith)
