Composers › Frédéric Chopin › Programme note
Twenty-Four Preludes Op.28 (1837-39)
Gerald Larner wrote 6 versions of differing length — choose one below.
Movements
No.1 in C major: adagio
No.2 in A minor: lento
No.3 in G major: vivace
No.4 in E minor: largo
No.5 in D major: allegro molto
No.6 in B minor: lento assai
No.7 in A major: andantino
No.8 in F sharp minor: molto agitato
No.9 in E major: largo
No.10 in C sharp minor: allegro molto
No.11 in B major: vivace
No.12 in G sharp minor: presto
No.13 in F sharp major: lento - più lento
No.14 in E flat minor: allegro
No.15 in D flat major: sostenuto
No.16 in B flat minor: presto con fuoco
No.17 in A flat major: allegretto
No.18 in F minor: allegro molto
No.19 in E flat major: vivace
No.20 in C minor: largo
No.21 in B flat major: cantabile
No.22 in G minor: molto agitato
No.23 in F major: moderato
No.24 in D minor: allegro appassionato
Chopin completed his Twenty-four Preludes Op.28 between November 1838 and February 1839 when he was staying in Majorca with George Sand and her children. It was a holiday which - as winter set in, his piano failed to arrive, and his health deteriorated - proved not to be the idyll it ought to have been. So much romantic literature has been written about Chopin at this time, coughing blood and banished by Majorcan ignorance to the deserted but supposedly haunted monastery of Valdemosa, that the preludes, most ot which were actually written in Paris, have taken on an additional, retrospective emotional colouring.
After the efforts of George Sand, Liszt and Chopin’s more imaginative biographers, the pathological aspect of the preludes does not need to be stressed here. What is more significant is that in this “cell shaped like a tall coffin,” beneath the “enormous vaulting covered with dust,” on that “old square grubby box with a leaden candle stick and a little candle” was a copy of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues. They more than anything else are the inspiration of Chopin’s 24 Preludes in 24 keys. The “raindrops” of Prelude No.15 in D flat major are already there in the repeated notes of the Prelude in C sharp major in Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier. Slightly alter the rhythm of Bach’s C major Prelude in Book 1 and there is Chopin’s “feverish” No.1 in C major. The continuous semiquaver figuration of Chopin’s No.5 in D minor, crossed by a fragment of melody in conflicting rhythm, the alternating runs and cadences of No.10 in C sharp minor, the radiant right-hand arpeggios in No.23 in F major are all anticipated in the Preludes in corresponding keys in Bach’s Book 1.
The Bach-inspired preludes are usually those which most resemble the technical studies of Op.10 and Op.25. Many of the others are studies in expression, perhaps even sketches for other works, like the flight of bare octaves crossing No.14 in E flat minor in a triplet figuration anticipating the last movement of the Sonata in B flat minor. There is an alternative funeral march in No.20 in C minor and an embryonic scherzo in No.22 in G minor. No.17 could be an experiment with the gondoliera form which he later developed even more impressively in the Barcarolle, Op.60. Nocturnes occur regularly, as in No.13 in F sharp major, the melodic style of which seems to owe something to Liszt, though the derivation here is not as clear as the Schumann influence in No.18 in F minor and Beethoven’s Appassionata melody in No.24 in D minor.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes/24/w436”
Twenty-four Preludes, Op.28
No.1 in C major
No.2 in A minor
No.3 in G major
No.4 in E minor
No.5 in D major
No.6 in B minor
No.7 in A major
No.8 in F sharp minor
No.9 in E major
No.10 in C sharp minor
No.11 in B major
No.12 in G sharp minor
No.13 in F sharp major
No.14 in E flat minor
No.15 in D flat major
No.16 in B flat minor
No.17 in A flat major
No.18 in F minor
No.19 in E flat major
No.20 in C minor
No.21 in B flat major
No.22 in G minor
No.23 in F major
No.24 in D minor
Chopin completed his Twenty-four Preludes, Op.28, between November 1838 and February 1839 when he was staying in Majorca with George Sand and her children. It was a holiday which - as winter set in, as his piano failed to arrive, and as his health deteriorated - proved not to be the idyll it ought to have been. So much romantic literature has been written about Chopin at this time, coughing blood and banished by Majorcan ignorance to the deserted but supposedly haunted monastery of Valdemosa, that the preludes have taken on an additional, retrospective emotional colouring. Most of them were actually written in Paris before he left. No.7, a charming stray from the mazurkas, and No.17 date from as early as 1836, and only Nos.1, 2, 4, 10 and 21 were actually written on the island.
It is conceivable that the exotic sounding No.2 in A minor, with its syncopated ostinato and repeated fragments of melody has something to do with the African aspect of Majorca. As for the famous “Raindrop,” No.15 in D flat, it is difficult to resist the temptation to set it in the monastery at Valdemosa, in spite of the chronological evidence to the contrary. True, the repeated A flat of the outer sections would not disqualify the work from being associated with the most tranquil of the nocturnes, but the C sharp minor middle section, with its grimly obsessive G sharps and snatches of plainsong, suggests that this part at least might have been written there. On the other hand, while Liszt considered No.8 in F sharp minor as the Prelude inspired by the rainstorm at Valdemosa, No.6 in B minor would also qualify.
After the efforts of George Sand and Liszt and the romantic biographers, however, the pathological aspect of the preludes does not need to be stressed here. What is more significant is that in this “cell shaped like a tall coffin,” beneath the “enormous vaulting covered with dust,” on the legendary “old square grubby box with a leaden candle stick and a little candle” was a copy of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues. They more than anything else are the inspiration of Chopin’s 24 Preludes in 24 keys. Slightly alter the rhythm of Bach’s C major Prelude in Book 1 and there is Chopin’s allegedly “feverish” No.1 in C major. The continuous semiquaver figuration of Chopin’s No.5 in D minor, crossed by a fragment of melody in conflicting rhythm, the alternating runs and cadences of No.10 in C sharp minor, the radiant right-hand arpeggios in No.23 in F major are all anticipated in the Preludes in corresponding keys in Bach’s Book 1. Even the “raindrops” of Prelude No.15 in D flat major are already there in the repeated notes of the Prelude in C sharp major in Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier.
The Bach-inspired preludes are usually those which most resemble the technical studies of Op.10 and Op.25. Many of the others are studies in expression, perhaps even sketches for other works. Embryo nocturnes occur regularly, as in No.13 in F sharp major.A flight of bare octaves crosses No.14 in E flat minor in a triplet figuration anticipating the last movement of the Sonata in B flat minor. No.17 in A flat major could be an experiment with the gondoliera form which he later developed even more impressively in the Barcarolle, Op.60, while there is an alternative funeral march in No.20 in C minor and an embryonic scherzo in No.22 in G minor.
Apart from the Prelude in C sharp minor, Op.45, incidentally, there is one other Chopin Prelude - a rarely heard example in A flat major which was written two years before the earliest of the others but not published until 1918.
Gerald Larner©
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes, Op.28/s”
No.1 in C major
No.2 in A minor
No.3 in G major
No.4 in E minor
No.5 in D major
No.6 in B minor
No.7 in A major
No.8 in F sharp minor
No.9 in E major
No.10 in C sharp minor
No.11 in B major
No.12 in G sharp minor
No.13 in F sharp major
No.14 in E flat minor
No.15 in D flat major
No.16 in B flat minor
No.17 in A flat major
No.18 in F minor
No.19 in E flat major
No.20 in C minor
No.21 in B flat major
No.22 in G minor
No.23 in F major
No.24 in D minor
Chopin completed his Twenty-four Preludes, Op.28, between November 1838 and February 1839 when he was staying in Majorca with George Sand and her children. It was a holiday which - as winter set in, as his piano failed to arrive, and as his health deteriorated - proved not to be the idyll it ought to have been. So much romantic literature has been written about Chopin at this time, coughing blood and banished by Majorcan ignorance to the deserted but supposedly haunted monastery of Valdemosa, that the preludes have taken on an additional, retrospective emotional colouring. Most of them were actually written in Paris before he left. No.7, a charming stray from the mazurkas, and No.17 date from as early as 1836, and only Nos.1, 2, 4, 10 and 21 were actually written on the island.
It is conceivable that the exotic sounding No.2 in A minor, with its syncopated ostinato and repeated fragments of melody has something to do with the African aspect of Majorca. As for the famous “Raindrop,” No.15 in D flat, it is difficult to resist the temptation to set it in the monastery at Valdemosa, in spite of the chronological evidence to the contrary. True the repeated A flat of the outer sections would not disqualify the work from being associated with the most tranquil of the nocturnes, but the C sharp minor middle section, with its grimly obsessive G sharps and snatches of plainsong, suggests that this part at least might have been written there. On the other hand, while Liszt considered No.8 in F sharp minor as the Prelude inspired by the rainstorm at Valdemosa, No.6 in B minor would also qualify.
After the efforts of George Sand and Liszt and the romantic biographers, however, the pathological aspect of the preludes does not need to be stressed here. What is more significant is that in this “cell shaped like a tall coffin,” beneath the “enormous vaulting covered with dust,” on that legendary “old square grubby box with a leaden candle stick and a little candle” was a copy of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues. They more than anything else are the inspiration of Chopin’s 24 Preludes in 24 keys. The “raindrops” of Prelude No.15 in D flat major are already there in the repeated notes of the Prelude in C sharp major in Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier. Slightly alter the rhythm of Bach’s C major Prelude in Book 1 and there is Chopin’s “feverish” No.1 in C major. The continuous semiquaver figuration of Chopin’s No.5 in D minor, crossed by a fragment of melody in conflicting rhythm, the alternating runs and cadences of No.10 in C sharp minor, the radiant right-hand arpeggios in No.23 in F major are all anticipated in the Preludes in corresponding keys in Bach’s Book 1.
The Bach-inspired preludes are usually those which most resemble the technical studies of Op.10 and Op.25. Many of the others are studies in expression, perhaps even sketches for other works, like the flight of bare octaves crossing No.14 in E flat minor in a triplet figuration anticipating the last movement of the Sonata in B flat minor. There is an alternative funeral march in No.20 in C minor and an embryonic scherzo in No.22 in G minor. No.17 could be an experiment with the gondoliera form which he later developed even more impressively in the Barcarolle, Op.60. Nocturnes occur regularly, as in No.13 in F sharp major, the melodic style of which seems to owe something to Liszt, though the derivation here is not as clear as the Schumann influence in No.18 in F minor and Beethoven’s Appassionata melody in No.24 in D minor.
Outside the Op.24 set, incidentally, there are two other Chopin Preludes - a rarely heard example in A flat major written in 1834 but not published until 1918 and the harmonically fascinating C sharp minor, Op.45, of 1841.
Gerald Larner©
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes/24”
No.1 in C major
No.2 in A minor
No.3 in G major
No.4 in E minor
No.5 in D major
No.6 in B minor
No.7 in A major
No.8 in F sharp minor
No.9 in E major
No.10 in C sharp minor
No.11 in B major
No.12 in G sharp minor
No.13 in F sharp major
No.14 in E flat minor
No.15 in D flat major
No.16 in B flat minor
No.17 in A flat major
No.18 in F minor
No.19 in E flat major
No.20 in C minor
No.21 in B flat major
No.22 in G minor
No.23 in F major
No.24 in D minor
Chopin completed his Twenty-four Preludes, Op.28, between November 1838 and February 1839 when he was staying in Majorca with George Sand and her children. It was a holiday which - as winter set in, as his piano failed to arrive, and as his health deteriorated - proved not to be the idyll it ought to have been. So much romantic literature has been written about Chopin at this time, coughing blood and banished by Majorcan ignorance to the deserted but supposedly haunted monastery of Valdemosa, that the preludes have taken on an additional, retrospective emotional colouring. Most of them were actually written in Paris before he left. No.7, a charming stray from the mazurkas, and No.17 date from as early as 1836, and only Nos.1, 2, 4, 10 and 21 were actually written on the island.
It is conceivable that the exotic sounding No.2 in A minor, with its syncopated ostinato and repeated fragments of melody has something to do with the African aspect of Majorca. As for the famous “Raindrop,” No.15 in D flat, it is difficult to resist the temptation to set it in the monastery at Valdemosa, in spite of the chronological evidence to the contrary. True, the repeated A flat of the outer sections would not disqualify the work from being associated with the most tranquil of the nocturnes, but the C sharp minor middle section, with its grimly obsessive G sharps and snatches of plainsong, suggests that this part at least might have been written there. On the other hand, while Liszt considered No.8 in F sharp minor as the Prelude inspired by the rainstorm at Valdemosa, No.6 in B minor would also qualify.
After the efforts of George Sand and Liszt and the romantic biographers, however, the pathological aspect of the preludes does not need to be stressed here. What is more significant is that in this “cell shaped like a tall coffin,” beneath the “enormous vaulting covered with dust,” on that legendary “old square grubby box with a leaden candle stick and a little candle” was a copy of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues. They more than anything else are the inspiration of Chopin’s 24 Preludes in 24 keys. The “raindrops” of Prelude No.15 in D flat major are already there in the repeated notes of the Prelude in C sharp major in Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier. Slightly alter the rhythm of Bach’s C major Prelude in Book 1 and there is Chopin’s “feverish” No.1 in C major. The continuous semiquaver figuration of Chopin’s No.5 in D minor, crossed by a fragment of melody in conflicting rhythm, the alternating runs and cadences of No.10 in C sharp minor, the radiant right-hand arpeggios in No.23 in F major are all anticipated in the Preludes in corresponding keys in Bach’s Book 1.
The Bach-inspired preludes are usually those which most resemble the technical studies of Op.10 and Op.25. Many of the others are studies in expression, perhaps even sketches for other works, like the flight of bare octaves crossing No.14 in E flat minor in a triplet figuration anticipating the last movement of the Sonata in B flat minor. There is an alternative funeral march in No.20 in C minor and an embryonic scherzo in No.22 in G minor. No.17 could be an experiment with the gondoliera form which he later developed even more impressively in the Barcarolle, Op.60. Nocturnes occur regularly, as in No.13 in F sharp major, the melodic style of which seems to owe something to Liszt, though the derivation here is not as clear as the Schumann influence in No.18 in F minor and Beethoven’s Appassionata melody in No.24 in D minor.
Outside the Op.24 set, incidentally, there are two other Chopin Preludes - a rarely heard example in A flat major written in 1834 but not published until 1918 and the harmonically fascinating C sharp minor, Op.45, of 1841.
Gerald Larner©
73: took the Preludes and Fugues to Majorca
17 in A flat Prelude - D major Prelude of Book 1
11 in B major, a kind of 3-part invention, 14 in E flat minor and 16 in E flat major - bravura moto perpetuo figuration comparable to 5 of Book I or 21 of Book 2
4 and 5, C major and D major - figuration which generates a clear hamonic flow while at the same time permitting linear elements to emerge through the pattern - can be compared with 12 of Book 1
2 in A minor - for dissonances cf A minor of Book 2
The “raindrops” of Prelude No.15 in D flat major are already there in the repeated notes of the Prelude in C sharp major in Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier. Slightly alter the rhythm of Bach’s C major Prelude in Book 1 and there is Chopin’s “feverish” No.1 in C major. The continuous semiquaver figuration of Chopin’s No.5 in D minor, crossed by a fragment of melody in conflicting rhythm, the alternating runs and cadences of No.10 in C sharp minor, the radiant right-hand arpeggios in No.23 in F major are all anticipated in the Preludes in corresponding keys in Bach’s Book 1.
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes, Op.28”
No.1 in C major
No.2 in A minor
No.3 in G major
No.4 in E minor
No.5 in D major
No.6 in B minor
No.7 in A major
No.8 in F sharp minor
No.9 in E major
No.10 in C sharp minor
No.11 in B major
No.12 in G sharp minor
No.13 in F sharp major
No.14 in E flat minor
No.15 in D flat major
No.16 in B flat minor
No.17 in A flat major
No.18 in F minor
No.19 in E flat major
No.20 in C minor
No.21 in B flat major
No.22 in G minor
No.23 in F major
No.24 in D minor
One feature Chopin’s and Debussy’s Preludes have in common is that, although neither composer expected them to be played complete and in numerical order in one session, they are so arranged that they could be. The organization of J.S. Bach’s Das wohltemperirte Clavier, though it was an inspiration to them both in most other respects, is quite different in this one. Bach’s preludes and fugues are presented in pairs, major and minor, rising up the chromatic scale - C major and C minor, C sharp major and C sharp minor, D major and D minor, and so on - which is not conducive to consecutive listening. Chopin’s Preludes are also presented as pairs, major and relative minor in this case, but rising in a cycle of fifths - C major and A minor, G major and E minor, D major and B minor - which is a much more natural progression. Like Beethoven in his late Bagatelles, Chopin and Debussy knew that if a piece of music is short enough a composer can risk almost anything. But they also knew that if it is too short or too risky - like Chopin’s Prelude in A minor or Debussy’s Canope - it makes no sense without the support of at least one or two of its companions.
The essential difference between Chopin’s and Debussy’s Preludes is that few if any of Chopin’s communicate an impression of place or time or any condition other than the composer’s state of mind at the time. It is true that they have associations with Majorca and the deserted monastery of Valdemosa where Chopin was staying with George Sand and her children when he completed the series in 1839. But the fact is that most of them were written in Paris and that only Nos.1, 2, 4, 10 and 21 were actually written on the island. While his unhappy situation there - the wintry weather, his desperately ill health, the discomfort of his lodgings, the attitude of the local people - must have had some influence on his work, it is more significant that he had with him as his constant companion Bach’s Wohltemperirte Clavier, to which he owed a life-long devotion.
The Bach connection is made from the beginning in No.1 in C major, which is an agitated, syncopated reshaping of the even arpeggio figuration of the Prelude in C major in Bach’s Book I. No.2 in A minor might just, on the other hand, have something to do with Majorca and its Moorish folk culture: it is difficult to explain otherwise the exotically dissonant harmonies which, until the long-delayed resolution, have nothing to do either with Bach or with Paris in the 1830s. No.3 in G major, though it sounds like nothing but Chopin, emulates Bach in setting a melody, outlined in the running semiquavers in the left hand, against a rhythmically altered and augmented variant in the right hand. No.4 in E minor is its melancholy obverse, as painfully persistent in its left-hand accompaniment as the other is cheerfully flexible.
There is more Bach in No.5 in D major, which resembles its Book I counterpart in drawing a melodic line (off the beat in Chopin’s case) through the flow of semiquavers. The ostinato persistence of No.4 in E minor is echoed in No.6 in B minor, but in the right hand this time over a characteristically eloquent cello impersonation in the left. No.7 in A major, the earliest of the twenty-four Preludes, is a charming little stray from the mazurkas - introduced here only to be swept away by the rhythmically turbulent No.8 in F sharp minor with its melodic line for the right thumb squeezed between the hurriedly articulated figuration round it. Similarly , the solemn march of No.9 in E major is brushed aside by the skittish though not entirely unserious No.10 in C sharp minor.
A kind of three-part invention, No.11 in B major is disarmingly spontaneous in comparison with the determined, unrelenting quest of the Presto No.12 in G sharp minor. No.13 in F sharp major - which is as beautiful and as nocturnal as any of the Nocturnes - is a welcome and, in its ternary structure, comparatively extended point of repose. It is succeeded, like the slow movement of the Sonata in B flat minor, by a disorientating flight of skeletal octaves, this one in E flat minor.
No.15 in D flat major is sometimes known as “The raindrop Prelude” by association with an inclement episode at Valdemosa mentioned by George Sand. If that the Prelude was written before the composer left for Majorca it does not seem a likely candidate for such distinction (nor, for the same reason, does Liszt’s alternative suggestion, No.8 in F sharp minor). It is tempting, however, to speculate whether the extended middle section in C sharp minor - with its obsessive G sharps, its organum harmonies and its snatches of plainsong - might have something to do with the reputedly haunted monastery and whether it might have been added there. Not that the impulsive No.16 in B flat minor, a breathless study in velocity, leaves much time for speculation.
A similar contrast informs the next pairing - No.17, a lightly floating impromptu A flat major, and No.18, a dramatic scena in F minor. The prevailing tempo relationship is reversed in Nos.19 and 20 - a Vivace study in the legato phrasing in E flat major followed by a Largo funeral march in C minor - and restored in Nos.21 and 22, a miniature ballade in B flat major and a demonic little scherzo in G minor. No.23 in F major is at once a tribute to Bach’s Book I Prelude in the same key and a study in sensitivity for a left hand which in the last, heroic Prelude in D minor must sustain the same urgent rhythmic pattern in unquestioning support of the passionately expressive right hand. The key of D minor does not, of course, complete a cycle beginning in C major but the ending, hammered into the bottom end of the keyboard, could scarcely be more conclusive.
Gerald Larner©
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes, Op.28 - new/Debussy”
No.1 in C major: Agitato
No.2 in A minor: Lento
No.3 in G major: Vivace
No.4 in E minor: Largo
No.5 in D major: Allegro molto
No.6 in B minor: Lento assai
No.7 in A major: Andantino
No.8 in F sharp minor: Molto agitato
No.9 in E major: Largo
No.10 in C sharp minor: Allegro molto
No.11 in B major: Vivace
No.12 in G sharp minor: Presto
No.13 in F sharp major: Lento
No.14 in E flat minor: Allegro
No.15 in D flat major: Sostenuto
No.16 in B flat minor: Presto con fuoco
No.17 in A flat major: Allegretto
No.18 in F minor: Allegro molto
No.19 in E flat major: Vivace
No.20 in C minor: Largo
No.21 in B flat major: Cantabile
No.22 in G minor: Molto agitato
No.23 in F major: Moderato
No.24 in D minor: Allegro appassionato
Although Chopin cannot have expected his twenty-four Preludes to be played complete and in numerical order in one session, they are so arranged that they could be. The organization of J.S. Bach’s Das wohltemperirte Clavier, though it was an inspiration to Chopin in most other respects, is quite different in this one. Bach’s preludes and fugues are presented in pairs, major and minor, rising up the chromatic scale - C major and C minor, C sharp major and C sharp minor, D major and D minor, and so on - which is not conducive to consecutive listening. Chopin’s Preludes are also presented as pairs, major and relative minor in this case, but rising in a cycle of fifths - C major and A minor, G major and E minor, D major and B minor - which is a much more natural progression.
The other essential difference between Bach’s and Chopin’s Preludes is that, whereas the former are melodic inventions arising from the harmonic and fingering implications of the key in which they are written, the latter are for the most part reflections of a particular state of mind. But it is only a difference of emphasis: Chopin’s Preludes are also rooted in their tonality, technically no less than emotionally, and like Bach’s (though unlike Debussy’s) they have few external references. It is true that they have associations with Majorca and the deserted monastery of Valdemosa where Chopin was staying with George Sand and her children when he completed the series in 1839. But the fact is that most of them were written in Paris and that only Nos.1, 2, 4, 10 and 21 were actually written on the island. While the increasingly unhappy situation there must have had some influence on his work, it is more significant that he had with him as his constant companion Bach’s Wohltemperirte Clavier, to which he owed a life-long devotion.
The Bach connection is made from the beginning in No.1 in C major, which is an agitated, syncopated reshaping of the even arpeggio figuration of the Prelude in C major in Bach’s Book I. No.2 in A minor might just, on the other hand, have something to do with Majorca and its Moorish folk culture: it is difficult to explain otherwise the exotically dissonant harmonies which, until the long-delayed resolution, have nothing to do either with Bach or with Paris in the 1830s. No.3 in G major, though it sounds like nothing but Chopin, emulates Bach in setting a melody, outlined in the running semiquavers in the left hand, against a rhythmically altered and augmented variant in the right hand. No.4 in E minor is its melancholy obverse, as painfully persistent in its left-hand accompaniment as the other is cheerfully flexible.
There is more Bach in No.5 in D major, which resembles its Book I counterpart in drawing a melodic line (off the beat in Chopin’s case) through the flow of semiquavers. The ostinato persistence of No.4 in E minor is echoed in No.6 in B minor, but in the right hand this time over a characteristically eloquent cello impersonation in the left. No.7 in A major, the earliest of the twenty-four Preludes, is a charming little stray from the mazurkas - introduced here only to be swept away by the rhythmically turbulent No.8 in F sharp minor with its melodic line for the right thumb squeezed between the hurriedly articulated figuration round it. Similarly, the solemn march of No.9 in E major is brushed aside by the skittish though not entirely unserious No.10 in C sharp minor.
A kind of three-part invention, No.11 in B major is disarmingly spontaneous in comparison with the determined, unrelenting quest of the Presto No.12 in G sharp minor. No.13 in F sharp major - which is not only as beautiful but also as nocturnal as any of the Nocturnes - is a welcome and, in its ternary structure, comparatively extended point of repose. It is succeeded, like the slow movement of the Sonata in B flat minor, by a disorientating flight of skeletal octaves, this one in E flat minor.
No.15 in D flat major is sometimes known as the “Raindrop Prelude” by association with an inclement episode at Valdemosa mentioned by George Sand. If it is true that the Prelude was written before the composer left for Majorca it does not seem a likely candidate for such distinction (nor, for the same reason, do No.6 in E minor or, Liszt’s candidate, No.8 in F sharp minor). It is tempting, however, to speculate whether the extended middle section in C sharp minor - with its obsessive G sharps, its organum harmonies and its snatches of plainsong - might have something to do with the reputedly haunted monastery and whether it might have been added there. Certainly, this is easily the longest of the twenty-four Preludes and one of only three with a middle section. Not that the impulsive No.16 in B flat minor, a breathless study in moto perpetuo velocity, leaves much time for speculation on the foregoing.
A similar contrast informs the next pairing - No.17, a lightly floating impromptu in A flat major, and No.18, a dramatic scena in F minor ending with the one example of fff dynamics before the closing bars of the set. The prevailing tempo relationship is reversed in Nos.19 and 20 - a Vivace study in legato phrasing in E flat major followed by a Largo funeral march in C minor - and restored in Nos.21 and 22, a miniature ballade in B flat major and a demonic little scherzo in G minor. No.23 in F major is at once a tribute to Bach’s Book I Prelude in the same key and a study in sensitivity for a left hand which in the last, heroic Prelude in D minor must sustain the same urgent rhythmic pattern in unquestioning support of the passionately expressive right hand. The key of D minor does not, of course, complete a cycle beginning in C major but the ending, hammered into the bottom end of the keyboard, could scarcely be more conclusive.
Gerald Larner ©2003
From Gerald Larner’s files: “Preludes, Op.28 - new/rev 2/03”