Chopin, Ballade No 3, in A flat major

Although Chopin never confirmed the source from which he took inspiration for his four ballades, it is customary to affirm that they obey the admiration he had for the work of his friend and Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz, exiled like him in the Paris of the thirties. An enthusiastic supporter of this conjecture was Robert Schumann (dedicatee of Ballade No. 2, with no great rapture on Chopin's part, it must be said). Schumann found Mickiewicz inspirational poems for each of the ballads. For No. 3, he claimed he was inspired by the poem Undine, which tells the tragic story of a water sprite, an undine, who falls in love with a mortal.

The fact is that Chopin never had any interest in music that contained characters or told stories. But neither did he reject these suggestions outright. He simply ignored them, as flippant, perhaps. 
(As for the magical character, he would reappear in one of Ravel's most celebrated compositions in the next century, as the protagonist of the first movement of his 1908 solo piano suite Gaspard de la Nuit).

Teaching wealthy ladies
The third ballade was composed during the years 1840-41, when Chopin had been in Paris for almost ten years. The early days had not been easy. But everything changed after he met the very wealthy Rothschild family, of Jewish origin, through whom Chopin gained access to the noble and aristocratic circles of Paris. The ladies asked him for lessons. The Baroness de Rothschild was the first to enroll. Also Miss Pauline de Noailles, daughter of a prince. Ballade No. 3 is dedicated to her.

Ballade No. 3 in A flat major, opus 47
Less turbulent than the two previous ballads, the third ballad begins with a long introduction that resembles, according to scholars, a conversation, a dialogue between two lovers. It is not until minute 02:11 that the first theme appears, charming and elegant. The seven-minute piece concludes with an abbreviated version of the second theme (03:58), virtuosic but not triumphant, because the infatuation of the undine, following Schumann, has turned out to be more bitter than happy.

The performance, superb, is by the Polish maestro Krystian Zimerman.

Thalberg, Opera Fantasies - Barbieri di Siviglia

In the early 1800s, concertgoers were mostly music professionals or knowledgeable amateurs. But it wasn't long before an emerging middle class moved in that direction. It is a time when music is moving beyond the courts and churches. As a result, specialized magazines and music criticism are emerging, and the publication of printed music is on the rise. The cultural horizon of the middle class widened and, one day, they decided that they also wanted to go to concerts.

New audience, new musicians
And for this new audience, there were also new musicians: pianists of outstanding craftsmanship who were also composers, although their work survives them faintly. In the first half of the 19th century, there were dozens of them.

Sigismund Thalberg
(1812 - 1871)

Sigismund Thalberg, born in Geneva in 1812 (two years after Chopin) was one of them. A pupil of Hummel and Moscheles, and possessing an extraordinary technique, he made his debut in Vienna in 1829 to great acclaim. From then on, taking advantage of his aristocratic and elegant bearing, he built up a good following, primarily women, almost, almost, in the style of Liszt.

Reaping success
A successful musician, he was also a gentle person. It was not unusual for his admirers to honor him with sumptuous gifts. One of them gave him a magnificent mansion in Vienna.
He toured all over Europe and the USA, achieving success everywhere. By the time he retired in 1863, he had earned more money than he could spend. So he went to Italy, where he devoted himself to winemaking. His retirement was for real: there was no piano in his Italian home.

Chopin's approach
And just as he had admiring colleagues (Mendelssohn, Schumann) he also had detractors. Chopin, not much given to praise, left only a sketch of his personality: "...women like him, he is younger than I am and makes potpourris with La Muette [an opera of the time]...".

Fantasies about operas
Indeed, Thalberg specialized in fantasies on operatic themes. He composed around fifty or more, which usually made up a large part of his performances. His music is not particularly ingenious or novel but it is pianistic to a high degree, and often very difficult. But it was short-lived. Today, from time to time some pianist recalls it, perhaps lest we forget that this music once captivated an era and an audience.

Grand Fantasia opus 63 - Variations on themes from The Barber of Seville by Rossini
At the piano, the Ukrainian performer Valentina Lisitsa.

 

Schubert, "Valses Sentimentales", op 50

During his short life, Franz Schubert wrote about one hundred waltzes for piano. The group of 34 miniatures he called Valses Sentimentales, probably composed around 1823, were not conceived as a complete work but as short pieces written at different times that finally interested a Viennese publisher who released them in 1825 grouped together as his Opus 50.

In 1827, a year before his death, he would choose another twelve, which this time he would call Valses Nobles. They would make up a new collection that was published as his Opus 77.

"Valses Sentimentales"
The set of 34 miniatures, whose complete performance lasts no more than twenty-five minutes, contains some of Schubert's most beautiful as well as small masterpieces, for their melodic invention and tenderness, so characteristic of the composer (hence perhaps the title "sentimental"). And, as is the case with most of the Viennese master's oeuvre, these very short pieces are not abundant in virtuosic effects. Nevertheless, the grace and freshness they display are admirable.

Ravel homage
Almost ninety years later, in 1911, Maurice Ravel will publish in Paris one of his most recognized works, the set of seven waltzes plus an epilogue that he titled Valses Nobles et Sentimentales in homage to little Franz.

Guillaume Coppola, French pianist, performs here waltzes Nos. 18, 20, 21 and 23. The four waltzes together do not exceed three minutes in length. They are, in fact, miniatures.

Sibelius, "Finlandia" - tone poem

The land we know today as Finland was absorbed into the Russian Empire in 1809 with the decorous name of the Grand Duchy of Finland. Ninety years later, in 1899, irrepressible nationalist winds forced Russia to impose strict censorship on the small nation's press. As a result, in November of the same year, the Finnish press organized a fundraising gala in Helsinki, which was in reality a subterfuge to drum up support for a free press.

The gala ended ceremoniously with the performance of a recently created work by Jean Sibelius. For the occasion, the work was presented with careful innocence under the title "Music for the Press Ceremony". Composed of six tableaux and an overture, the work ended with the piece entitled "Awakening of Finland". Such was the reception given to this sixth tableau that Sibelius revised it the following year, transforming it into an independent tone poem which he retitled straight and simply "Finlandia".

Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)

Finlandia, a tone poem

Premiered as an autonomous work on July 3, 1900, the tone poem revealed to the world the poetic mastery of Sibelius, becoming the starting point of a rapturous nationalist feeling, of which the composer was an outstanding protagonist.

From then on, Finlandia became the second national anthem practically. However, due to censorship, the work was presented in those years under the most diverse titles, which ranged from the cautious Nocturne to the more daring Heroic Sentiments, or The Awakening of the Finnish Spring. This was a mandatory practice until Finland achieved independence after the First World War.

The superb rendition is by the Orquesta Sinfónica Juvenil de Caracas, conducted by maestro César Iván Lara. Its most celebrated passage is presented at 4:00 minutes; first in a reverent atmosphere; by the end, it will turn into a powerful statement of victory.

Mozart, Fantasia in C minor

 
In February 1784, Mozart took an impressive turn from his carefree and mischievous nature and set about making a complete record of his works, which he called "List of All My Works" in all seriousness and application. However, he did not intend to burn the midnight oil on the project, as he planned to complete it around 1800, by which time it would be duly "updated".

The solo piano piece Fantasia in C minor (K. 475) entered the catalog on May 20, 1875.

These are years in which Mozart, despite the success achieved with The Abduction from the Seraglio in 1782, focused on the production of piano concertos and the development of his career as a pianist. In 1785, precisely, the concertos Nos. 20, 21, and 22, no more and no less, saw the light of day.

Fantasia in C minor, K 475

It was published that same year as a set (opus 11) with a sonata (the sonata in C minor, KV 457), a completely different genre if one thinks of the improvisatory character that every "fantasia" is supposed to have. This led to thinking that the latter's mood served in some way as an introduction to the sonata, both pieces forming an integral work. Today they are considered independent pieces, and in that light, they are part of the repertoire of contemporary pianists.

The Atmosphere

Unlike the plurality of sensations (pathos, joy, abandonment) evoked by its namesake, in D minor, from 1782, the Fantasia in C minor, beginning in a beautiful adagio tempo, is characterized by maintaining, in general, a somewhat somber and perhaps even gloomy atmosphere. In line with the rest of Mozart's fantasias, it demands from the interpreter a translucent virtuosity.

An exquisite version is the one delivered here by the remarkable Hungarian pianist Zoltan Kocsis, who passed away in Budapest 6 years ago. Maestro Kocsis, in addition to developing an extraordinary career as a virtuoso, also successfully tackled conducting, composition and pedagogy. This modest blog pays here a heartfelt tribute to him.