Like all of Chopin’s late works, the Berceuse is a pianistic masterpiece. But it stands out from the rest of Chopin’s late works, because it contains no innovation in terms of structure or harmony (cf. the Polonaise-Fantasie, or the Barcarolle and the radical harmony of its last pages). Instead, the Berceuse is a truly breathtaking showcase of ornamental-figural thematic transfiguration, featuring dazzling pianistic filigree, luxurious dissonances, inventive counterpoint, and a whole array of spectacular colouristic effects. Chopin imposes on himself the extreme discipline of a single four-bar phrase repeated sixteen times, always in the same meter and key, over an ostinato ground that *nearly* repeats itself in identical form in every single bar – structural minimalism paired with textural maximalism, as it were.

It’s a wonder, given its formal constraints, that the Berceuse gives pianists so much space for interpretive freedom, but a bit of thought makes it clear that the pianist needs to make a whole bunch of difficult interpretive decisions. Is the LH figuration supposed to be played in strict rhythm, or is a tiny shade of diminuendo in the second half of each bar OK? Is the tempo supposed to remain constant throughout, or can it relax for denser passages [such as 1:51]? Sometimes it’s obvious the tempo must relax [see 2:16], but by how much? When Chopin writes passages that are obviously contrapuntal even if no counterpoint is indicated in the score [as in 1:22, 2:21], how much emphasis should be given to the hidden voices? Is the Berceuse supposed to be reverentially lyrical [slower tempi, more emphasis on each note: see Ashkenazy], or is it sweetly and straightforwardly melodic [faster tempi, more emphasis on the arc of the phrase: see Rubinstein]? What is the exact significance of the apparent foray into G-flat major at the end of the piece, and how much should those C flats be emphasised?

In any case, all five pianists in this video give very convincing if quite different performances of the Berceuse: in all honesty, I’m usually fondest of whichever interpretation I’m listening too, but I think Moravec and Pollini are especially persuasive.

00:00 – Michelangeli. Nearly constant (and by modern standards relatively rapid) tempo throughout, with rapid cascades of notes dispatched with incredible lightness and elegance. The tone is burnished, glowing. The most Debussy-like of all the interpretations.
04:15 – Rubinstein. The most rhythmic of the interpretations, with a pulse that forms the base for some of the most effortlessly joyful lyrical playing I’m come across. There are several similarities with the Michelangeli recording: Rubinstein constantly favours the upper voice in contrapuntal passages, and his tempo is also brisk (although he is willing to reduce speed at points like 6:06).
08:32 – Moravec. Relentlessly lyrical (turn up the volume a bit!) I think his is the only recording I know of where you can actually hear those long slurs Chopin indicates – Moravec’s legato is kind of amazing. His tone is hushed, intimate, his playing especially free [at 9:29, he lets his hands start to go slightly out of sync, and at 10:54, where some pianists (see Michelangeli) begin a slight accelerando toward the end of the phrase, he introduces a marked diminuendo instead.] I don’t think anyone does softer trills than his at 11:17, which come as a surprise after that sparkling downward scale.
13:25 – Ashkenazy. The slowest of the interpretations. Reverential and meditative, with a particularly quiet LH and a tempo that remains surprisingly constant, even in the densest passages – a real sense of stillness pervades. He emphasises lower voices more than most.
18:26 – Pollini. Full of gorgeous little touches, such as the tiny accelerando Pollini puts in the LH (in the opening) at the exact moment the harmony changes from tonic to dominant. Especially striking is the way he handles counterpoint: he first introduces it so gently in the first variation it slips in almost unnoticed, but at moments like 19:57 lets the invisible lower voice speak with great eloquence. His use of rubato is also quite noteworthy – note how he often begins cascading passages with a slight breath before accelerating over the whole phrase.

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