The premise of this recital is not only to recreate as closely as possible Chopin’s concert of February 21, 1842, on an instrument he might have played (an 1836 Pleyel), but also to try and capture how the composer might have interpreted his own works. This accounts for the frequent textual variants that contrast with what we normally hear today: the E-flat Nocturne’s elaborate fioritura alternations, the F minor Etude’s final descending scale starting an octave higher, and so on. Planès rhythmic liberties and frequent breaking of hands also lay claims to authenticity.
As with Planès’ earlier Harmonia Mundi Chopin release (recorded on a 1906 Steinway grand and featuring some of the same works as here), the interpretations range from insightful to boring. The opening and closing Op. 25 Etudes grow more labored in articulation as they progress. A few notes fail to sound in Op. 25 No. 2’s delicate right-hand triplets, which aren’t as light and supple as they ought to be. Planès lacks thrust and poetry in the Third Ballade’s more scintillating pages, while the thoughtfully detailed lyrical first part (fastidious trills, well-contoured inner voices and bass lines) is overly sedate. Similarly, the Andante Spianato and the Op. 48 and Op. 27 No. 2 Nocturnes toe a thin line between sensitive and prosaic, although the Op. 45 Prelude’s introspective, brooding nature elicits more sustained and shapelier playing, and so does the “Raindrop” Prelude (No. 15 in D-flat).
Planès’ rubatos in the Mazurkas and the B major Prelude convey a strong personal profile, although his hand desynchronization in the E minor Prelude throws the melody/accompaniment relationship out of whack. Compared to the virtuosic flair characterizing the Op. 42 Waltz’s best performances, Planès’ gentler, softer-grained accuracy comes off relatively limp. An uneven release, with some fine moments.
