4 Impromptus, Op. 90 by Franz Schubert – Zimerman


         

          Today we listen to Krystian Zimerman’s performance of the Four Impromptus, Op. 90, by Franz Schubert. Zimerman’s interpretation of these impromptus is pristine, with every phrase well-controlled but spontaneous at the same time. I find this recording to be gorgeously fluid; it sparkles in all the right places and is perfectly legato. When I listen carefully, I find new details every time, which is why I keep coming back to it. I think the music is effortlessly pleasing to the listener – it’s easy to appreciate, without really understanding why. But if you begin to analyze or listen closely, it offers a world of insight and discovery. This is naturally the type of music that makes you happy, but Zimerman’s performance is superb, and I’m excited to share it with you.  

         Franz Schubert (1797 – 1828) began composing his 8 impromptus in the summer of 1827. The term “impromptu” comes from a french word having a meaning similar to un-premeditated, suggesting an improvisatory and loosely structured piece.  The term was not invented by Schubert, rather, it had been in use at least since 1822 by the composer Johann Voříšek, whose works Schubert had been familiar with. The publication of these four impromptus as Op. 90 was interrupted by Schubert’s death in 1928, so the last two impromptus in this set were published posthumously. Krystian Zimerman is a Polish pianist who rose to fame after winning the IX International Fryderyk Chopin Piano Competition, and now has an international career recording and giving live performances, albeit relatively infrequently. 

          The first impromptu in C minor begins with a strikingly exaggerated fermata, which sets the stage for the 30 minutes of delight that are to follow. I’m immediately drawn in to the performance with the beautifully rounded way that he phrases the solo line. This line continues to be sung when he voices the chords and multi-voiced parts so excellently. He brings out interesting harmonies, which makes the balance perfectly satisfying. The nature of the music is neither sparse nor full, and Zimerman’s voicing embraces what the music is instead of making it into something it’s not. As Robert Schumann (1810 – 1856) wrote, comparing Schubert’s impromptus to the works of Beethoven (1770-1827), “As a composer for the piano, Schubert stands alone …. in that his writing is more pianistic, that is to say, the piano’s full resources are effectively brought into play, than is Beethoven’s piano writing, in which tone color is achieved more orchestrally.” Here, we see how Schubert’s style of piano composition was unique and really pushed the boundaries of the piano’s abilities at the time it was written. To me, it’s always impressive when a performer is able to honor the composer’s true intentions for the style of the music while adding their own personality to it, which Zimerman does so nicely here.  Additionally, Zimerman manages to draw the sound throughout the phrase, the phrase continuing without impetus instead of being dragged along, variation interspersed by way of articulation and dynamics. It makes for an enjoyable listening experience instead of a surprising one, which fits perfectly with the character of this impromptu. It’s not dramatic, yet it’s far from boring, because it seems pleasant on the outside, but beautifully executed down to every layer if you pay attention more closely. The music isn’t ostentatious, or designed for show – it’s meant for someone to listen to instead of hear, and Zimerman makes it enjoyable to listen to all the little details of this piece. Overall, I was blown away by Zimerman’s combination of technique and musicality. For those of you who aren’t pianists, I think that what makes his technique excellent is the combination of supple wrists and structured but untense fingers. This allows for careful control while achieving a singing, lyrical sound. 

          The second impromptu in E flat major flows gently and is lovely to listen to. I find it fascinating to watch how Zimerman executes his carefully controlled legato. It’s perfectly smooth, something that’s quite difficult to do. However, the acoustic room hinders some of the character that I’d like to hear. Personally, I think that the B Minor section should be more sharp and catchy – and in my part it is marked marcato – in contrast to the first section. However, I’ll attribute this beigeness in articulation more to the way the sound bounces off the walls than a fault of the performer himself. My favorite aspect of Zimerman’s performance of this impromptu is how he’s able to play as if there are no beats or bar lines. There’s nothing to interrupt the music, it’s like a pure falling waterfall that cascades forever. He lets the music have enough space between sections so that it doesn’t become tiresome, but never do I hear a break in the continuum. Each phrase, particularly in the opening section, blends in to the next one, and each time we hear this flowing theme it reminds us of before. 

          The first two impromptus are sparkling and exciting, and each one requires many different techniques to play. This third impromptu in G flat major is a major change in character from what we’ve previously heard. Looking at the sheet music for this impromptu, it seems simple, and to be fair the notes aren’t so difficult, but it takes a whole other understanding to make this impromptu sing and have color. I’m reminded of a quote written by our beloved Schubert in a letter to his brother. “You believe happiness to be derived from the place in which you have once been happy, but in truth it is centered in ourselves.” Schubert knows something about life, and his own contentment, and this music shows us that in its reserved, magical way. He goes on to write, “… but now I am able to find happiness and peace in my own soul.” The character evokes a state of tranquility, and Zimerman gives a fine performance of this music. I get the sense that on the outside, we only see a little of what he’s imagining – inside, he’s basking in the sunshine from the gorgeous harmonies. This is quite a mature performance – Zimerman holds himself with an air of contained joy; he seems wise in the way that he has lived a little on this earth. We get to see a glimpse into Zimerman’s mind with his little nod toward the keys at 16:07. I can’t say that this is my favorite performance of this impromptu. But it’s such personal music, and who am I to judge one’s own experiences? Perhaps it’s the type of thing where I can only hear my ideal performance brought to life by my own mind and hands.  However, I can say that this performance is excellently played and truly beautiful.

          This fourth impromptu, in the key of A flat major, is light and carefree. I don’t think it’s at all how I would choose to play it, but it makes me smile. While I’m not super convinced of the harmonic tension, I think it fits with the way he chooses to present this piece, and the performance of all four impromptus together. Instead of making big and dramatic climaxes, he enjoys the little moments, and appreciates the journey instead of the destination. This one, perhaps more than the others, strikes me as a real impromptu, like he just sat down and began to play it in a moment of inspiration. It starts simply, with a basic theme, and then builds upon that theme in an improvisatory manner. Finally, the ending is stormy, but a Schubert-stormy, not overly dramatic, and the hall drifts into silence, just as everything began.

 

 

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