Swiss pianist Francesco Piemontesi has metaphorically laid his best table, put some beautiful flowers in a vase, dimmed the lighting enticingly and invited us to sit down and savour two excellent main dishes, side by side, hoping that the unfamiliar one will please the palate as much as the old favourite.
The familiar, ever-loved entrée is Robert Schumann’s Piano Concerto, which he finished in 1845. The less familiar plate features Antonin Dvorák’s Piano Concerto, revised by the composer into its current version in 1883.
Piemontesi, who turns 30 this year, is an elegant cook and consummate host. There isn’t a note or phrase out of place here. Best of all, he has an endearingly delicate touch at the keyboard, often making us forget he is playing a percussion instrument.
That said, he is also a great virtuoso, with an easy technique and a way with keyboard fireworks when they come along.
There are many, many, many fine recordings of the Schumann concerto, and this one deserves a place among them.
The Dvorák concerto is less popular, certainly not instantly familiar even to people who enjoy listening to the repertoire.
Like Schumann’s concerto, Dvorák’s treats the piano part as an integral part of the orchestral texture, occasionally sending the soloist out front to dazzle — especially in the final movement.
I sometimes wonder if unfamiliarity itself is what breeds contempt. The Schumann listening experience is like taking in a favourite picture gallery at a museum; the Dvorák is unfamiliar, with its frequent twists and turns sometimes feeling like getting lost in a far corner of that same museum.
The reason I wondered about unfamiliarity was because my first reaction to this album was to purse my lips in disdain after sampling the Schumann, the haute-cuisine of piano concertos, and then being offered what at first comes across as rough home cooking on Dvorák’s part.
Dvorák wrote a lot of very fine music — not much of it featuring the piano. But I determinedly gave this album two more chances and, when listening carefully, the piece really does improve. The way the composer weaves themes through the music is fascinating. I can see why these fine artists would have given so much of their time and talent to whip up a batch.
Will this change other people’s minds? I can’t imagine. But if you’re feeling adventurous, give it a try. The first movement is the best-crafted and could have, I’d like to suggest, have stood alone as a freestanding piece (ironically, that’s how the Schumann concerto began its life).
For all the details on this album, click here.
Here’s the trailer video produced by Naïve:
John Terauds