Why is Chopin so difficult to perform? Jean-Yves Thibaudet’s new album gives some elements of an answer. Straight and almost mechanical in the most demanding moments, his playing becomes fussy and verges on sentimentality in the most lyrical phrases. In other words (and slightly caricaturing), I could say that the pianist takes Chopin’s virtuosity for a sheer display of technique, and his most intimate moments for cheese. Chopin’s music certainly goes beyond this rather schematic, cheap duality. Despite Thibaudet’s even fingers, the Polonaise “Héroique” has nothing “Héroique” about it, with the dullest possible opening and stiff octaves in the middle section. Played all on the surface, the “Minute” Waltz sounds like a music box. The Etudes, voided of all dramatic content, become mere Czerny exercises, while the famous Prelude in E minor dissolves itself in languorous and inconsistent sonorities. Four selections are played on Chopin’s own 1848 Broadwood piano, but as they are performed in the same labored way as the 15 others, they don’t add much to our knowledge of Chopin (or Thibaudet). Decca’s engineers didn’t help the soloist very much, adding tons of artificial reverberation that creates a clangorous resonance in the louder dynamics.
