‘Hats off gentlemen, a genius’.  So wrote Schumann of his friend Chopin.  I have delayed writing about Chopin for some weeks though his music is of such effervescent pathos and refinement.  When I was collecting my thoughts about Liszt a few weeks ago, I was happy to read somewhere one comment about Chopin which I have long felt, that he was the ‘Mozart’ of the 19th century – spontaneous, poetic and able to conjure up harmonies from far-off places, then to return to the overall key of a particular moment.

Chopin’s piano writing is certainly extremely virtuosic, but this was not generally its purpose, unlike Liszt, whom he admired and befriended in early years.  Chopin stood back from the idea of virtuosity for its own sake and it was used more as a vehicle for the expression of his musical ideas.

I have selected his four Ballades, a title which Chopin was first to use for purely musical form, and was later also used by Liszt and Brahms amongst others.  Though there is some obvious sense of organisation to them, to the listener they also appear to have the character of a medieval ballad, working their way through various phases rather than being historically connected to the tighter organisation of sonata form.  The design is more of a mosaic with the sections fitting together and sometimes amalgamating, with a sense of improvisation and spontaneity.  I have gone into some detail outlining where sections begin and end.  This is a simple aid for listening, but one can also appreciate these works without studying their construction. They are more pointers and landmarks in the mosaic-like putting together of the individual pieces.

Chopin had left Poland in 1830 shortly before it was plunged into revolutionary turmoil, but his music was already imbued and associated with a sense of ‘Polishness’ in the Mazurkas and Polonaises, using his knowledge of the local folk music style. This ‘nationalism’ in music influenced many subsequent composers in the 19th century.  This sense in his music never left him - the Ballades are tinged with nostalgia, whether conscious or not.  He had a troubled life and his final seven years were marked with increasing health problems and declining output, culminating in his death in Paris at the age of 39.  3000 people turned up uninvited for his funeral at La Madeleine, and were unable to gain access.  The church was already full with invited guests.  Mozart’s Requiem was performed; perhaps the ‘Mozart’ in him was already recognised, but that is a bit of free-thinking on my part.  The Ballades date from the years 1831 to 1842, though they all spent some time in gestation.

I will refer to the different sections in simple alphabetical order.  The first section will be simply ‘A’ – nothing to do with key!  I have put the order of groups in the overall structure at the top of each Ballade.  There is early extension and free development of ideas, especially in Nos. 1 and 4.  If the subsequent detail below is too dense you can then skip over it!  I am also using bar numbers for anyone who might have access to the music and wishes to follow it.

Ballade No. 1 in G minor, Op. 23 (1831-1835)

Simple structure ABCACDCA+Coda (Health warning:  this Ballade is structurally more complicated than the next three).

This may be the most popular of the four, rather in the same way that Brahms’ 1st Symphony could be considered the most impressive of his four.  The building blocks are more ‘free-range’ than tightly organised.  The opening serves as an introduction which has no particular significance later in the work.  The first section (A) then begins in 6/4 time in the 8th bar, and Chopin’s signature interval of the diminished 4th (F sharp to B flat) is evident in the first bar.  G minor is only established at this point though it had been moving towards that in the introduction, having started provisionally in A flat.  I referred in an earlier blog to Chopin’s tendency for writing ‘operatic arias’ for piano, and this opening melody, with its ‘um-cha-cha’ accompaniment is another example.  I am not belittling the writing; it is already loaded with feeling and pathos.  Section B then begins at bar 36 with a new and more active idea, less meandering, and it moves into a second increasingly busy phase (B2).

The action is halted while the left hand plays some kind of a ‘horn-call’ – as if announcing time to take your seats for one of Chopin’s most engaging melodies, the big idea of section C. This new idea justly takes pride of place for the rest of the Ballade.  It in turn evolves into a second phase (C2) from bar 82, as if to reminisce on what has just taken place.  ‘A’ then returns in A minor (a tone too high for Sonata Form!) and this soon leads to a grand and expansive return of C – lump in throat time.  This is followed by some virtuosic broken chords leading to section D at bar 138, extrovert and chromatic though rooted in E flat major, the key too for the third return to C and C2, again fulsome and passionate.  Near the end (at bar 194), section A is given a final mention in the home key of G minor, building and ending ‘appassionato – il piu forte possible’.  The final coda then rushes us to the end in a flurry of virtuosic display of new music, ending in a series of sweeping scales.

I have used B2, C2 etc. rather than calling everything by a new group letter where the first and second halves of each group are united in character.  A summary of the overall structure works out like this:

Introduction. 8 bars

A  8-36

B 36-65 (B2 from 45)

Moment of arrest 65-67 (horn-call)

C 67-94 (C2 from 82)

A 94-106

C 106-124

Link 124-138

D 134-166 (D2 from 146)

C 166-194 (C2 from 180)

A 194-208

Coda 108 to end.

It is not conventional form in historic terms, but the title Ballade amply describes it - slightly rambling, but organised by a very brilliant mind, combining a high level of virtuosity and seeming spontaneity with a unifying structure.  It speaks for itself . . . sumptuosly beautiful and passionate.

Ballade No 2 in F, Op.38 (1836-1839)

A simple ABAB+Coda

This second Ballade serves as a great contrast to the first, especially in its opening section A.  It is dedicated to his friend Robert Schumann (a return favour), but I sense a feeling of Schubert about it, understated but deep. It could almost be an accompaniment to a song from Winterreise.  The chordal spacing has Schubertian sonorities, and the lilting Schubertian restraint disguises a tender intensity.

The simple opening of section A in F major has a second phase A2 in A minor/C major, but both parts are connected in spirit and rhythm.  B then explodes onto the scene in A minor with flourishing high-speed arpeggio writing crossing the keyboard, and B2 follows, effectively uniting with rhythmic tum-te-tum details from A.  All then calms for the second statement of A in the home key which is then developed and extended in an improvisatory way, with frequent key changes, building twice to a rising and then falling climax in strong chords.  B then makes a final return in D minor which leads directly to the agitated and again virtuosic coda.  The introverted music of the first section briefly reappears to bring a reflective and peaceful ending.

Ballade No.3 in A flat major, Op. 47 (1841)

ABCBA+Coda, an arch form.

The third Ballade returns in a general way to the more rhapsodic nature of No.1.  The first group A has two parts again, the second more extensive from bar 9 – 37 I followed by a brief return to the opening idea.  Section B from bar 53-116 continues in a similar understated and calm way, and B2 is closely related, building towards its end, which could be considered to occur at bar 88, followed by a kind of codetta based on the same ideas.  One could equally argue that it was still section B, all the way to bar 116.  What’s in a name?  It’s not important or even wise to put everything into a preconceived straightjacket, and the music is all derived from the rest of that section.  Section C is clearly a departure with quicker movement, but nothing like the whirlwind virtuosity of the earlier Ballades.  There are three parts to C.

At this point I will break off for a moment.  There are some moments in music which can be frustrating (to me!), and none more than occasions in Mozart’s piano concerto final movements.  I will cite No.23 in A major, K.488, and 25 in C major, K.503 as examples.   In the middle of these last movements Mozart produces arguably the most intense ideas of the whole concertos.  Rather like offering the last chocolate from the box, and then suddenly swallowing it himself.  They emerge in their greatest finery, tear your heart out, happen once and then disappear, never to return.  All formally correct, but tantalising moments which can only be longed for but not experienced again.

Such a thing happens in this third Ballade at bar 136, effectively the final thought from section C.  Eight bars of Chopin suddenly at his most sublime, and then gone.  Absence works on the heart, for sure.  One could make a case for this passage to be based on the end of section B, or even a kind of inversion of the opening phrase, but that’s too flaky a thought to pursue.   Section B and B2 quickly then follow and are developed further, eventually combining with the opening six notes, before A grandly takes back control (did I say that?) at bar 213.  The final few bars are taken from the opening of C.

I can’t quite decide my preference between this Ballade and the first one, and it’s all down to those eight bars in section C.  The last chocolate

Ballade No.4 in F minor, Op.52 (1842-1843)

Intro ABC(+D?)AB Coda

This is the most complex and intriguing of the four, and I might suggest also the most inscrutable.  Although in F minor, there is an 8-bar introduction in C major, poised and suspending the moment of the real beginning.  Section A then begins at bar 8 in the home key, and here is another operatic aria.  One can imagine the end of Verdi’s La Traviata, Violetta riven with tuberculosis but just enough life left to deliver a final expressive eulogy to her Alfredo.  It becomes extended, more flourishing and derivative, but still sourced from the ideas of section A, wandering temporarily through various keys of differing remoteness, but essentially rooted in the tonic F minor.

As with the previous Ballade, section B from bar 80 is similar in mood to the beginning of A, though one might detect a suggestion of Schubert again.  It is short-lived and the more florid section C begins at bar 100, with C2 (D?) emerging at bar 108.  Whichever way one looks at it, we have a ‘development’ section incorporating ideas from the opening of A and the introductory bars, with much fast-moving intricacy rather than overt virtuosity.  The music comes to a stop at bar 134 and we return to a mysterious adaptation of section A, harmonically more diverse and again much extended and developed.  A link joins us to an equally developed section B from bar 169-191, with a free extension on to bar 210 with fast-moving chromatic chords and a hushed ending.  The Coda proper then begins at bar 211, a final passage of intense complexity, invention and chromaticism.

I hesitate to single out one particular Ballade as superior to any other.  They are all so different and not conceived as a set.  The last one is probably the most challenging, but as a whole they reveal much of the breadth and scope of Chopin’s unique style.  One can only compare him with Liszt in virtuosity and harmonic imagination derived from exceptional piano technique, but more generally (not always because Liszt could be too) Chopin is the more poetic. I like to regard him still as the ‘Mozart’ of the 19th century for his penetrating sense of refinement, ingenuity and humanity in the two most important aspects of composition, melody and harmony.  There is a lot more music, but the piano concertos are extremely beautiful, especially both middle slow movements - rivals to Beethoven’s Emperor concerto.  Both written before he left Warsaw in 1830.

I have chosen Murray Perahia’s performances on Spotify, but equally great are a number of others such as Maurizio Pollini, Krystian Zimerman and Arthur Rubinstein.  Rubinstein was a great interpreter of Chopin.  I look for honest performances which primarily serve the composer.  Chopin’s music requires sensitivity and rubato, but not over-indulgence. It is always dangerous if the focus turns on the performer rather than the composer.  With this sensitivity comes the need, of course, for an extremely advanced level of technique.  The simple humility and roundness in Rubinstein’s performances belies the difficulty of playing his music, and is brilliantly revealed also in the recordings of two concertos.

Ballade No.1
https://open.spotify.com/track/3XqVyBs5vSSPcvcEYYl5vu?si=HzI_UZk4R1eOXkcAIaJd8A

Ballade No.2
https://open.spotify.com/track/3j3dzBbQtjTAFO2R8hH7qH?si=zUQeDos9RFOfYUxH7nIaUw

Ballade No.3
https://open.spotify.com/track/5oYJMKqtSgGGcvF1sSf7oZ?si=Qu-HTDLJQpWEwr-1syUEjw

Ballade No.4
https://open.spotify.com/track/5tfp3XyWsUMnrA90zfHl3t?si=vNK9IPMvTWWFQZvhkCCQCw

Krystian Zimerman on YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cV_xvsH_EDk

And finally....a little clerihew (to be read with your best French accent):
Frederic Chopin
Used to drop in
To hold the hand
Of George Sand.

Do enjoy this outstanding music.

All best wishes,
Richard