Desert Island Classics #10: Chopin's Ballade no. 1 in G minor
Desert Island Classics #10
Frederic Chopin: Ballade no. 1 in G minor, op. 23. Played by Krystian Zimerman, piano. Recorded in 1987 for Deutsche Grammophon.
Ballade no. 1 in G minor
If you saw Roman Polanski’s 2002 acclaimed movie The Pianist starring Adrien Brody as Holocaust survivor pianist and composer, Władysław Szpilman, then you have heard Frederic Chopin’s Ballade no. 1 in G minor. It plays a large role in the film, although the piano pieces in the film were abridged and played by Polish pianist Janusz Olejniczak for the soundtrack. It is easily one of Chopin’s most recognizable and popular works, and in my opinion one of his greatest compositions. Chopin himself apparently agreed with that assessment, as when fellow composer Robert Schumann wrote: "I have a new Ballade by Chopin. It seems to me to be the work closest to his genius (though not the most brilliant). I even told him that it is my favourite of all his works. After a long, reflective pause Chopin told me emphatically: 'I am glad, because I too like it the best, it is my dearest work.”
Chopin is generally credited with inventing the “Ballade” genre for piano, taking the term from the literary world and in particular writers such as Goethe, Schiller, and many poets. Musically speaking, a ballade is a piece usually written for solo piano. It has several melodies within it, and in a broad sense generally tells a story. When it comes to Chopin’s Ballade no. 1, it is relatively clear that the work tells a story, although it does not follow a strict program from the composer. There is some evidence that for this first ballade, Chopin was inspired by the poem Konrad Wallenrod by Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz. Mickiewicz, like Chopin, was living in exile in Paris during the 1830s. Despite its inspiration, Chopin’s ballade follows an emotional arc rather than a literary one. He completed the ballade in 1835.
The entire piece is about nine minutes long. Chopin’s own markings for the piece are:
Largo - Moderato - Meno mosso - Meno mosso - Presto con fuoco
However, I like to listen to Ballade no. 1 as though it were in three parts:
The introduction section develops rather slowly, conveys an uncertain mood, and is essentially tinged with melancholy. It speeds up and turns into a fiery and passionate cry which slams on the brakes and transitions into the famous middle section.
The middle section enters with a significant change in mood, and with one of Chopin’s greatest melodies built around a simple three-note motif. The motif swells and soars, and has the feeling of exuberance and hope. Briefly interrupted by a short playful section, which then brings us back to the carefree and hopeful three-note motif. But there are clouds on the horizon.
The final section reprises the opening theme melody, but this time it carries us over to the most dramatic section of the piece where Chopin expresses anxiety, storminess, and even tragedy. This section has some of the most virtuosic passages of the piece, and is emotionally turbulent and moving. Chopin’s use of color, especially light and dark tones, tells a story where we can easily see the outlines, and all we need to do is fill in the blanks to fit our own narrative if desired.
This is truly an epic work compacted into relatively short playing time. In 2010, the British journalist Alan Rusbridger (editor of The Guardian) dedicated a year to learning Ballade No. 1 and produced a book about the experience titled Play It Again: An Amateur Against the Impossible.
Notably, the piece was also used by Japanese figure skater and two-time Olympic champion Yuzuru Hanyu. He skated his short program to Ballade No. 1 in four seasons between 2014 and 2020. The program earned him four world records and contributed to the win of his second Olympic title.
Desert Island Recording
Chopin’s Ballade no. 1 contains many technical and interpretive challenges for the pianist, and can be played in many different ways to emphasize different elements. Therefore, choosing the best recordings from the over 200 recordings out there is challenging and more than a little subjective.
Having said that, there is one recording that comes the closest to perfection than any other, and by any measure is one of the greatest piano recordings of all-time. I am referring to Polish pianist Krystian Zimerman’s recording on Deutsche Grammophon from 1987, part of his greatly acclaimed complete set of all four ballades.
Zimerman was the winner of the prestigious International Chopin Piano Competition in 1975, and thereafter firmly established himself as one of the finest pianists of his generation. Zimerman has been closely associated with the music of fellow countryman Chopin throughout his career, including recording both Chopin piano concertos twice.
Zimerman’s recording of Ballade no. 1 is something very special. First, the sound quality is very good. The piano is placed forward, and so can be heard well. Zimerman’s reading is big boned and romantic, and what he achieves is tremendous control over dynamics and tempo. When you combine that with the level of detailed articulation Zimerman exhibits, it checks all the boxes. More than anything else, it sounds as though Zimerman is inside the music more than others, and can reproduce exactly what Chopin intended. If you put some performances on one end that are overly emotive and fiery, and others on the other end which are cooler, merely virtuosic, or analytical, Zimerman finds the ideal middle ground in a work that moves through many moods quickly.
The first section is initially subdued, but Zimerman builds the tension gradually with wonderful sensitivity. He pushes forward and accelerates toward the end of the section, but is relatively restrained. Zimerman saves the real fire for the final section. Meanwhile, the famous motif of the middle section is introduced with a deft touch, and Zimerman is most effective at weaving the story. The large crescendo that leads to the soaring melody, and the melody itself, are played to perfection. Unlike many performers that take some liberties here by playing the notes faster or slower than the actual beat, Zimerman is closer to the center and ensures that every note registers. There is emotion here, but it is not overheated, and we are carried along in waves.
The final section is where Zimerman increases the anxiety and tension, quite appropriately, and while the various runs and stops and starts are done with exceptional skill, Zimerman is not afraid to make the piano roar on the bottom end as it leads to its tragic end. My own feeling is the final two chords are paused too long, especially the final note. But this is a small personal quibble. In terms of both technique and interpretation, Zimerman’s recording is the one.
Zimerman brings grandeur, refinement, and nobility to this music, along with power, control, and detail. On that proverbial desert island, my preference would be to have several other versions on hand as well, but when it comes down to it, Zimerman’s version is indispensable.
Other recommended recordings
As mentioned, there are several other truly great renditions of Chopin’s Ballade no. 1, and below are a few of my favorites.
Andrei Gavrilov’s second recording of Ballade no. 1, for Deutsche Grammophon in 1992, is my second favorite recording of this great piano work. Although Gavrilov has been criticized for not reaching his potential as an artist overall, that is not the case here. Gavrilov had recorded the work previously in 1985 for EMI, and that version is also captivating, if somewhat over-emotional and perhaps focused too much on the virtuoso aspects of the work. But the 1992 account for DG is more controlled, and yet Gavrilov still uses a wide expressive palate, which I enjoy. The first section builds slowly, but he picks up the pace, and then the middle section is heartfelt and innocent. It has a feeling of meditation, sweet and carefree. The climax is powerful, but instead of using that as the high point of the middle section, Gavrilov continues to build tension throughout the work in a longer arc. The final section is devastating and impressive. Gavrilov unleashes emotion here, and it has the feeling of a live performance with dramatic pauses between the final chords.
Maurizio Pollini is one of the finest Chopin interpreters of all-time, and several of his Chopin recordings are among the best ever made. He has recorded Ballade no. 1 twice, the first time in 1968 for EMI/Warner and the second time in 1999 for Deutsche Grammophon. Both performances are top-notch, but it is the first recording that I return to again. Pollini has a great feel in the first section, and plays with intelligence and refinement. Yet he never loses the emotional focus of the work, building speed and tension nicely. Pollini takes a lyrical approach to the middle section, and brings simply incandescent playing to the famous melody. He presses forward a bit more than Zimerman, which in some ways I like. Pollini shapes the entire arc of the work, and tells a story. Among the best. There is some minor background tape hiss.
Vladimir Ashkenazy is another legendary Chopin interpreter, and one of the greatest pianists of his time. While his 1964 recording for Decca is too inconsistent and impetuous, his 1985 recording for Decca ranks among the best. The sound is good, as is typical for Decca. Ashkenazy has a very slow approach to the first section, and though there are some really poignant moments here, though at times Ashkenazy can come across as too analytical. The middle section is thankfully less self-consciously played, and the crescendo and climax come across very fine. The piano sings out, and there is joy here as well as a bit of foreboding about what is to come. The playful part before the final section is taken at a very fast clipl. But the speed works well because once the final section arrives it provides a striking contrast in mood. The final coda hits you in the gut (in a good way).
Arthur Rubinstein was one of the greatest Chopin interpreters ever, and one of my first CDs was a compilation of Rubinstein playing Chopin favorites, a disc I return to often. He recorded the Ballade no. 1 for RCA in both 1960 and in 1972. There is also a recording from 1963 in London on ica classics, unfortunately in poor sound. The 1972 recording is good, but the 1960 recording on RCA Living Stereo, reissued by Sony, is an extraordinary account to match the best. The Living Stereo sound is outstanding. The opening is thoughtfully played, fluent but not overly sentimental. Rubinstein was a master of finding all the colors possible in the piano, and he does that here in spades. The middle section is delectable, sensitive but not overly self-conscious. The gradual buildup has clarity and refinement. The climax is wonderful, in epic and full sound. The playful runs after are a joy to hear, brilliant yet gentle. Rubinstein’s pacing is ideal, and dynamics are spot on. The final section is emotional without going overboard, but he makes the lower registers of the piano thunder, which is fitting. The ending gets to the point, and doesn’t linger, a nice contrast to some other versions. Authoritative.
Young French pianist Helene Tysman, recorded in 2012 by the Oehms label, brings a version of stunning beauty and intelligence. Pacing is perfect, Tysman is not concerned with virtuosity but rather telling the story and following her vision. When she gets to the turbulent bottom notes, she plays with conviction. She has a gentle and light touch overall, and her lyricism is the biggest strength of her playing. Speeds increase before climaxes, but only marginally, and this works well. The mood changes are striking and affecting, and when she pulls back the reins before the final section, there is a sadness to her playing which makes the coda especially poignant and tragic. Top notch.
Young Japanese pianist Mao Fujita recorded the Ballade no. 1 in 2018 for Naxos, and it is a reading of power and color. Fujita’s subtlety and touch are impressive, and his taste in phrasing and dynamics suit the piece very well. Fujita has a vision, and he is consistent in following the structure he laid out for the work. The last part of the first section speeds up greatly, but then the middle section has a dreamy quality to it, with Fujita playing notes so soft it is really breathtaking. His ability to project different moods and colors is amazing. The buildup and culmination to the famous middle section motif is lovely and satisfying, but then he pushes forward in an exciting way. The faster finger passages hold no terror for Fujita, but he also knows how to emphasize the drama. Truth be told, there is some showmanship here, but that is not such a bad thing. The final section is delivered with confidence and aplomb. Great stuff.
I have to include the great Vladimir Horowitz’s performance of this work at his Carnegie Hall return in 1965, recorded by CBS/Columbia/Sony. I truly love Horowitz’s way with this piece, in particular the emotional extremes he achieves and his awe inspiring virtuosity. Despite the showmanship, this is a thoughtful performance where Horowitz displays some of his famous touch to great effect. He was virtually able to carry emotion on his fingertips. The middle section here reminds me of his performances of Schumann’s Scenes from Childhood, a work Horowitz championed and basically owned. The climax is tremendously powerful, but then Horowitz pushes and pulls somewhat willfully, which will not be to everyone’s liking. But nothing is glossed over here, and in the final section Horowitz brings out the power, drama, and tragedy like no one else could. The ending run and chords bring down the house.
I realize I am not including here several versions which have been widely lauded by critics, and that certainly doesn’t mean they are without merit. But for me, each of them are missing something. Having said that, if you like this piece you owe it to yourself to listen to those versions as well by Murray Perahia (some critics say Perahia’s is the very best version available), Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, Evgeny Kissin, Seong-Jin Cho, Tomoharu Ushida, Imogen Cooper, Claudio Arrau, Ivan Moravec, Alfred Cortot, Martha Argeich, Yuri Egorov, Sviatoslav Richter, and Daniel Barenboim.
Happy listening, and I hope you enjoy listening to some Chopin this summer! Until next time, take care and stay cool out there.
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Notes:
Brennan, Gerald. Cummings, Robert. Schrott, Allen. Woodstra, Chris. All Music Guide to Classical Music, The Definitive Guide. All Media Guide. Pg. 282. Backbeat Books, San Francisco. 2005.
Hare, William (2004). LA Noir: Nine Dark Visions of the City of Angels. Jefferson, North Carolina: Macfarland and Company. p. 207. ISBN 0-7864-1801-X.
"Men's Historical Absolute Best Scores". isuresults.org. Lausanne: International Skating Union. Archived from the original on 29 May 2018.
Szpilman, Wladyslaw. "The Pianist". Szpilman.net. Retrieved 20 August 2016.
Tomaszewski, Mieczysław. "Ballade in G minor, Op. 23". Fryderyk Chopin Institute. Retrieved 18 December 2020.
Winter, Robert (24 April 2014). "He Dove In and Did It". The New York Review of Books. Retrieved 15 October 2014.