25 September 2007

The French pianist François Chaplin has released a Chopin CD and the complete works for piano by Debussy, and will perform music by both composers in a Paris recital.

By Eric DAHAN

Discovered in the mid-80s with the release of his recording of Debussy’s first book of Préludes, François Chaplin has continued to make his mark as one of the outstanding musicians of his time. If anyone doubted this, his latest recording, a boxed set of Debussy’s complete piano works for piano, has reconfirmed it. As mentioned in a previous Libération article, Chaplin does not approach Debussy as a mandatory rite of passage for the pianist. His playing is sensuous and spirited, yet capable of melancholic abandon. He delivers Debussy with a truly French sound that is at once round and crisp, a far cry from the received idea of impressionism which is so prevalent today…

Secrets. Chaplin is not merely a great Debussy performer, he is able to convey the innermost thoughts of the composer in his delicious interpretation of Epigraphes antiques, a sunny homage to Pan, and in the static Tombeau sans nom, which gives the impression of being submerged in the kingdom of Allemonde. The varied sonorities in Images spring from the alternating contractions and dilations of the melodic line; the colours shimmer like secrets being told as his perfectly controlled passage work bears witness to a bygone nobility of heart.

Chaplin has put all his artistry into his newly released Chopin album, and will also display it in concert, performing works of both composers. Is he justified in shining Debussy’s light upon Chopin? Absolutely. And especially because, before recording his complete Debussy, he made an album of the Nocturnes which demonstrated that Chopin too had imagined the piano as a “sounding machine”.

In Chaplin’s new pre-impressionist, Mediterranean triptych ((Ballades, Barcarolle and Berceuse), hints of ancient modes, highly-coloured chords and fleeting fragrances appear, but these never detract from the forward motion or the lyrical quality of the music. This is sparkling piano playing, both rigorous and sensitive, worthy of Nelson Freire, The latter gave up recording long ago, but the younger Chaplin, still a dreamer, favours small record companies.

Born in Paris  into a family of painters (Charles Chaplin and his sanguines; Elisabeth Chaplin, who exhibited her work in Florence), he spent weekends at Barbizon, and quickly grasped the link between music and the colours of nature. He listened to his mother playing, and began piano lessons himself at the age of eight. In the beginner’s book La Méthode rose, he was “immediately attracted” to the exercise Chant arabe. His precocious taste for tone colour and modal sound needed only the stimulation of Baudelaire’s Correspondances to turn him into the ideal Debussy performer. Chaplin is also a Romantic, and owes his taste for Schumann – he has recordedKinderszenen – to Wentsislav Yankoff, his mentor at the Paris Conservatoire. He courageously chose Brahms for his first album because he was “crossed in love”, recording nothing less than opus 118 and 119 and the two Rhapsodies at the age of 25! He had found Debussy’s music “too anguished” as a teenager, and did not tackle it until he “felt better”.

“Voluptuousness”.  

It was thus via Chopin, who said the player should “knead the keyboard”, that Chaplin came to Debussy, who wanted to “forget about piano hammers”. Like Michelangeli, Chaplin allows Debussy to remain mysterious. And like Arrau, he unleashes Chopin’s lyricism. This is why he chose an old Steinway, whose sound is less ‘clean’, for Debussy – it allowed him to sculpt the sound in his own way – and a brand new Yamaha for the paradoxical “radiance, voluptuousness and joy” of the dying Chopin. Chaplin’s next stage will be to confront his fear of Schubert’s “morbidity”. He has been working on Schubert in secret, and confides, “They say you have to wait to play his lateSonatas, and I think it’s true.”

In the meanwhile, he plans to record Fauré’s Noctures and take up photography. Perhaps because his piano playing is anything but naively pictorial.

© 2007 Libération