A brief written statement prefaces Andrew Tyson’s recording of Chopin’s Op. 28 Préludes that cites the tension between spontaneity and craft running through these pieces. Many pianists have been able to reconcile these characteristics, from free spirits like Alfred Cortot, Benno Moiseiwitsch, and Martha Argerich to the more classically oriented Maurizio Pollini, Friedrich Gulda, and Vladimir Ashkenazy, along with “in-betweeners” like Claudio Arrau and Ivan Moravec. While Tyson seems determined to leave a spontaneous imprint, he sometimes crosses that thin and fragile line between individuality and eccentricity.
In the first Prélude, Tyson’s emphasis of the tenor voice and smoothing over the carefully differentiated triplet and quintuplet groupings dissipates the textural push/pull effect that characterizes the composer’s Agitato directive. Tyson also reiterates a bass C-natural just before the final measure. In No. 2, the pianist gives special emphasis to the left hand’s top voice. He plays No. 3’s left-hand 16th notes with extraordinary control and agility, yet his subito piano on measure 7 and extreme anticipation of measure 16’s right-hand B-natural are on the verge of bad taste. However, Tyson’s inner-voice accentuations in No. 5 illuminate the music’s sophisticated cross-rhythmic phrasing.
No. 7 is brisk and appropriately semplice, despite the pianist hitting an extra E-natural at measure 9 and ignoring the crucial crescendo in measures 11 and 12. But what color and poetry Tyson brings to No. 8’s swirling patterns! He brings out No. 9’s right-hand triplet accompaniment to revelatory effect, in contrast to pianists who mainly focus on the stentorian melody and cantus firmus-like bass line. No. 10’s descending runs may blur to a fault, yet I sense that Tyson is trying to articulate Chopin’s long legato slurs and leggiero directive at the same time.
In the first part of No. 13 Tyson stresses the right-hand chords while veiling the legato left-hand countermelody. Divergent voicings (some Chopin’s, others Tyson’s!) and episodic accelerations impart a weightless quality to No. 15, where the repeated notes are anything but “hammered out”. Numerous dynamic revisions and a few instances of rushing transform No. 16’s “con fuoco” into a glib high-wire act. For No. 17 Tyson remains on the wire, evoking Shura Cherkassky at his most hyperactive.
Tyson’s supercilious joyride through No. 18 completely misses the music’s anguished point. Save for a lone arpeggiated chord, Tyson plays No. 20 absolutely straight, as written. No. 23 is as relaxed as Nos. 22 and 24 are appropriately agitated and fluid. Tyson’s robust and prodigiously nuanced C-sharp Minor Op. 45 Prelude is one of the best versions I’ve heard, although his G-flat Major Impromptu falls short of the flowing simplicity heard in the 88-year-old Earl Wild’s ageless hands.
And although Chopin’s Op. 59 Mazurkas easily withstand Tyson’s affetuoso leanings, Argerich’s similar interpretations convey more rhythmic backbone, as does Horowitz in the F-sharp minor. While the full-bodied engineering vividly captures Tyson’s imaginative pianism, the question remains if his headstrong approach to the Op. 28 Préludes will continue to capture listeners’ imaginations over time.
