CHOPIN: Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor, Op. 21; LISZT: Piano Concerto No. 2 in A Major – Yaroslav Senyshyn, piano/ Czech National Symphony Orchestra/ Oliver von Dohnanyi – TROY1777, 58:02 (6/15/19) [Distr. by Albany] ****:
Pianist Yaroslav Senyshyn (b. 1950), of Ukrainian descent, studied with Antonina Yaroshevich, a contemporary of Vladimir Horowitz at the Kiev Conservatory. Now eminent among Canadian pianists, Senyshyn combines his keyboard talent with a penchant for pedagogy, teaching Music and Moral Philosophy at Simon Fraser University. Various critics for Fanfare magazine testify to Senyshyn’s “colossal sound. . .beautiful playing. . . and unique keyboard style.” The present performances derive from studios in Prague, February 2019.
The 1829 Chopin F minor Concerto enjoys a robust orchestral introduction from conductor Dohnanyi and his Czech forces, especially alert in the bass parts and the high winds. The rhythmic pulsation that will dominate the expansive first movement already informs the tenor of Senyshyn’s boldly resonant entry. That Senyshyn possesses a fluidly suave jeu perle reveals itself early, supported by an innate sense of tempo rubato. The exquisite, solo roulades and lyrical chains of poetically rhetorical flourishes proceed in a manner easily reminiscent of the past world of Malcuzynski and Cortot. Senyshyn does not mind injecting a chordal thunderbolt or percussive cluster when the impulse strikes him. The orchestra, too, catches fire in their brief but potent tutti late in the development section, the Czech brass players’ making their presence felt.
In his accompanying notes, Senyshyn expresses his desire to capture the romantic ardor of the then-nineteen-year-old Chopin, deep in the throes of his passion for Konstancia Gladkowska. The roulades and trills of the Larghetto become absolutely organic to the tissue of the nocturne’s melodic structure, as to render the Steinway B a totally operatic instrument. Senysyin’s bell-tones enjoy a music-box clarity. The movement proceeds to an intimate and grueling climax, only to have the solo bassoon – in tandem with the keyboard – return us to the prime melody. The infectious mazurka of the last movement, Allegro vivace, owes much to the now-posthumous Nocturne in C-sharp minor. As much melodic magic works in this movement as do Polish rhythmic impulses, abetted in their spry mystery by string col legno. Senyshyn achieves much by way of gossamer dynamics and canny manipulation of Chopin’s interior colors. The result: a refreshed, sonically crisp performance of nuance and power, easily recommended to those for whom this splendid work had become a moment of complacency.
Liszt’s 1849 A Major Concerto adopts a structure Liszt admired in both Schubert and Henry Litolff, the single movement that spontaneously divides itself into the traditional four-movements of sonatas. No less an influence, Carl Maria von Weber’s F Minor Konzertstueck, Op. 79, imparts a sense of madcap improvisation and musical freedom of expression. Both pianist Senyshyn and conductor Dohnanyi embrace the thunderous and the pesante approach to produce a mighty urgencv into their performance. The orchestral interjections produce a force we might expect in Les Preludes. The notion of continuous “transformation of theme” suffuses the musical material, in which the keyboard injects octaves, filigree, and transparent arpeggios, almost at will. The middle section – with cello obbligato – becomes a richly textured nocturne unto itself. Like the Weber model, Liszt will eventually transform his lyrical and tender sentiments into a grand, even convulsively glaring, march – on the Hungarian, chromatic scale – of resonant impact.
While Senyshyn in his notes remarks that Horowitz never fulfilled a desire to record both the Chopin and Liszt Second Concertos, admirers of this Canadian artist may well grant him the distinction of having done Horowitz proud in these instances.
—Gary Lemco
