70904 for PDF 11/05 - Ivory Classics

Shura Cherkassky
The 1982 San Francisco Recital
1 - 5 Lully: Suite de pièces
Jean Baptiste Lully (1632-1687), although known as the founder of French grand opera,
was born in Florence, Italy, becoming a naturalized French citizen in 1661. At the age of thirteen
he was taken to France by the Chevalier de Guise, to amuse Mlle. de Montpensier, having
learned to play the violin and guitar from a Franciscan monk. However, he was initially
given kitchen work. It was only when he was heard playing the violin that Lully was promptly
transferred to Mademoiselle’s own orchestra. This was for only a short time, for he set to
music a satirical poem reflecting on Mlle. de Montpensier, who expelled him from her house.
After studying the harpsichord and composition he obtained a position in the band of Louis
XIV and soon organized another group, which acquired the reputation of being the finest
orchestra in France. By this time Lully was unrivaled as a violinist, and was most solidly in
the favor of the king, writing ballets and masques in which both he and the king took part.
Eventually he was given sole authority to produce operas in France, establishing
an “Academie Royale de Musique” (now the Grand Opera), and the theater of his rival,
Cambert, was closed upon order of the king.
From then on Lully was the dominating power in French music. He not only composed
prolifically, but also created new traditions in theatre discipline; taught singers how to walk
on the stage; invented steps for the ballet; changed the entrances, and above all, insisted on a
precision of attack in the orchestra. It has been said that he “more than once broke a violin
on the back of a man who was not playing to his taste, but when the rehearsal was at an end
would send for the man, pay him three times the value of his instrument, and take him out
to dine.”
He was an amusing bundle of contradictions. A master of truckling and deceit, he was
sometimes recklessly impudent to those who held power over him. Once, when a mechanical
difficulty caused delay in beginning a performance of one of his operas which the King was
attending, a message was sent to Lully that the Grand Monarque was tired of waiting. “The
King is master here,” retorted Lully, “and is at liberty to be as tired of waiting as he pleases!”
For fourteen years, as overlord of the Opera, he acted as director, composer, conductor, stagemanager,
ballet-master, and machinist (if electricity had been in use, Lully would have managed
the lights). He did all these things with superlative ability, energy, and resource; yet
– 2 –

this amazing Italian found time to become
(as biographer W. F. Apthorp has pointed
out), “not only the true founder of French
Opera, but to adapt, with surpassing cleverness
and insight into the French character,
what was essentially Italian opera to
the French taste.” From 1658 to 1671, he
wrote about thirty ballets and divertissements,
and between 1672 and 1696,
twenty operas, in addition to instrumental
and church music. He was a master of various
styles, from tragedy to burlesque. He
turned upside down the traditions of the
court ballet. He knew the theatre backwards
and forwards. His sense of stage
effect was keen and intuitive; and he knew
a subtler and deeper secret: how to make
music speak with dramatic veracity and
point.
At the end this buffon odieux (as
Boileau called him) – this rake, knave,
intriguer, who had lifted himself out of
Jean Baptiste Lully
the obscurity of his Italian origin into a
position where he talked back to a King, – died of an abscess of the toe. His estate consisted
of fifty-eight sacks of louis d’or and Spanish doubloons, diamonds, and silver plate, worth in
all about seven million francs.
To the very last he was cheerfully unscrupulous, for (according to a story told immediately
after his death) he cheated to attain Heaven. His confessor, so runs the familiar tale,
required as a condition that Lully should burn all that he had written of his new opera,
Achille et Polyxène. Lully gave the abhorred score to the confessor, who triumphantly threw
it in the fire. “What, Baptiste!” remonstrated a prince who visited Lully soon after, “you have
destroyed your opera?” “Gently, Sir,” whispered the expiring rascal: “I have another copy.”
So he died, radiant, corrupt, and unashamed, a poet and a genius; and his epitaph in the
– 3 –

Church of Saint-Pères declares that “God gave him. . . a truly Christian patience in the sharp
pain of his last illness.”
The so-called Suite de Pièces was not actually assembled by Lully. Lully’s fame was so great
that his editors often collected his dances and published them as keyboard suites. These transcriptions
from Lully’s operas and ballets were particularly abundant in the nineteenth century
and appeared in editions produced by Théodore Lack and Louis Oesterle. Shura
Cherkassky performed Lully’s Suite de Pièces utilizing as a point of musical departure
Oesterle’s edition published by G. Schirmer in 1904. Cherkassky changes the order of the
pieces, making the suite more cohesive, and adds his own touches of ornamentation in a very
Romantic style.
6 Mendelssohn: Scherzo a Capriccio in F-sharp minor
“Felix” (Latin for “the happy one”) was a well-chosen name for Mendelssohn, for the
Goddess of Fortune gave him her choicest gifts, a diadem of genius for his curly head, inherited
wealth from his father, a winning charm of manner and a graceful upright physique. The
frustrations, maladjustments, and conflicts of most great composers make the life of Felix
Mendelssohn as refreshing as sunshine. Born in Hamburg, February 3, 1809, Ludwig Felix
Mendelssohn-Bartholdy was the grandson of the Jewish pragmatic philosopher, Moses
Mendelssohn – known as the “German Plato” – and son of the banker, Abraham
Mendelssohn. His mother Lea Salomon-Bartholdy was his first piano teacher. He studied
with Ludwig Berger (piano), Carl Friedrich Zelter (theory), and Wilhelm Hennig (violin). At
nine he played the piano part of a trio by Wolff in public; at ten he sang alto in the
Singakademie; at eleven he was introduced to Goethe who spoke the highest praises of his
piano-playing and insisted that the wunderkind stay with him in Baden for two weeks. At
their first meeting the poet requested he play a Bach fugue, and though he forgot a part of
the composition, he was able to extemporize the missing portion weaving contrapuntal lines
into a heavy brocaded baroque fabric that pleased all who were present for the performance.
Shortly after Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony came out, Mendelssohn, then 15, could play it all
on the piano without a score. At seventeen he wrote the overture to Shakespeare’s
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Light, aerial music was his unsurpassed speciality.
Between 1827 and 1835, Mendelssohn’s activity took him from city to city on the
Continent and in England. His popularity increased to a point where he was deluged with
invitations to the finest homes. In 1829 he conducted the first performance, after Bach’s
– 4 –

death, of the great St. Matthew Passion. The
next several years saw the production of many
important works, among which were the first
volume of the Songs Without Words, the
Hebrides Overture, the Italian and
Reformation symphonies and the G minor
Piano Concerto. In 1835, Mendelssohn
became the conductor of the Gewandhaus
Orchestra in Leipzig, and eight years after that
he helped to found the Leipzig Conservatory.
On May 8, 1847 after a grueling concert
schedule in England, taking a rest in Frankfurt
am Main, Mendelssohn was brought word of
his sister Fanny’s untimely death. She had been
rehearsing with a chamber group for a performance
in the family home when she suddenly
lost consciousness and died a few hours later.
This was more than Mendelssohn could bear.
He himself fell to the ground unconscious, a
blood vessel in his head ruptured mirroring the
phantom hemorrhage of his beloved Fanny,
Felix Mendelssohn
sharer of his hopes, and an emotional double of
his inner self. There seemed no joy left in the world for Mendelssohn from that point on.
Mendelssohn a young man of thirty-eight died of a paralytic stroke on the fourth of November
1847. He was put to rest in the family vault in Berlin.
Mendelssohn probably composed his little-known Scherzo a Capriccio in F-sharp minor in
1835-36. The piece was not given an opus number, but appeared in a collection called Album
des Pianistes, published in Bonn. This highly charged masterpiece is a blend of vitality and
poignancy. The scherzo is built from the alternation of several contrasting themes or segments,
the first light and staccato, the second more legato and expressive, and a third marked
con fuoco (with fire). This and other neglected piano works by Mendelssohn were always
favorites of Shura Cherkassky, who played them since his childhood.
– 5 –

7 - 10 Tchaikovsky:
Grand Sonata in G Major, Op. 37
Piano works composed over a period of
26 years (1867-1893) comprise a by no
means insignificant part of Tchaikovsky’s
chamber music. True, his compositions for
the piano cannot claim a leading place in his
musical legacy, nevertheless against the
background of the post-Lisztian piano literature
of Western Europe, his works for the
piano are distinguished by their variety and
originality. Tchaikovsky was an excellent
pianist from his youth. When he graduated
in 1859 he played Liszt’s extremely difficult
fantasia on theme’s from “Lucia di
Lammermoor,” and when the Moscow
Conservatory opened in 1866 he gave a brilliant
performance of a piano transcription
of the overture to “Russlan and Ludmila.”
His personal tastes in piano music caused
Tchaikovsky to single out Robert
Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky
Schumann as his favorite composer for the
piano. Schumann’s restless lyricism, the
range of his ideas and even his exposition with its ingenious rhythms exercised a tremendous
influence on Tchaikovsky. Considerable too was the influence of Chopin. On the other
hand, he was indifferent to Liszt’s radical reforms in piano execution, subtle, dazzling virtuosity
and effervescence of design, although he had the greatest respect for Liszt as a composer.
It is not difficult to trace these diverse influences in Tchaikovsky’s piano music. As always,
they were transmuted in the crucible of his genius and bore the unmistakable stamp of his
creative individuality. It is this individuality that makes Tchaikovsky’s piano compositions so
difficult to perform: the pianist must project himself into the images expressed in the music
before he can reveal the profound essence that is sometimes concealed behind some simple
salon dance or elegant concert showpiece.
– 6 –

Tchaikovsky composed only two works he labeled “Sonata” and both were for solo piano.
The first, in c-sharp minor, Opus 80, was one of his earliest works of any kind, composed in
1865. Tchaikovsky considered this Sonata a student work and withheld it from publication.
The rather late opus number was affixed at the time of the posthumous publication in 1900.
Tchaikovsky’s second sonata was begun on March 13, 1878, a few days before he started work
on his celebrated Violin Concerto. Tchaikovsky completed it on August 7th of that year and
it was premiered in Moscow by Nikolai Rubinstein on November 2, 1879.
The “Grand Sonata” (at it is sometimes known) is in G Major and in four movements.
The work is unusually rich in musical ideas. The first movement is built up of measured
march rhythms and impassioned recitatives, giving the impression of a greatly augmented
introduction confined within the sonata framework. The march movement in 3/4 changes to
a recitative theme. Elements of improvisation and drama merge in the solemn phrases of
musical oratory. A passionate restless second theme is contrasted to the calm serenity of the
concluding part. The solemn development is crowned by a tense march in 3/4. The same
march motif predominates in the brilliant coda. The second movement, marked Andante, is
extremely poetic. Its main theme, touched by a sorrowful lyricism, is set off by a number of
whimsical episodes and is somewhat reminiscent of Schumann. The light, unforced Scherzo
might well belong to a Schumann Novellette. The finale, however, is dominated, like the first
movement, by the composer’s preoccupation with constructing a large-scale, elaborate discourse.
The Sonata in G Major, Opus 37 closes on an orchestrally majestic tone.
11 Chopin: Polonaise Fantaisie in A-flat Major, Op.61 and
13 Chopin: Waltz in A-flat Major, Op.42
Frederic Chopin arrived almost immediately at a personal idiom that is absolutely unmistakable
– an original style so pervasive that a fragmentary bar or two will serve to identify a
composition as his. With a rarer sense of what kingdom he could make his own, he chose to
write music for the piano. He never composed an opera or an oratorio, a symphony nor even
a string quartet. These large forms he left to others. He worked in a dozen or more forms, several
of them his own creation. Chopin has left us mazurkas, fresh and narrative; waltzes, prismatic
from his alembic imagination; nocturnes, the perfection of chivalrous dreams; scherzos,
tragic to the heart’s core; preludes, Wordsworthian in simplicity and charm; etudes, complete
as sonnets; impromptus, full of life or touched with tenderest romance; polonaises, the
exquisite expression of the pageantry of his native land; and three sonatas, each a tremen-
– 7 –

Fryderyk Chopin portrait-coin by Antoine Bovy, 1837
dous tragedy. He is a composer par excellence
of inexhaustible variety in infinite
detail.
Chopin’s first published composition,
in 1817 at the age of eight, was a
Polonaise, and in the next five years he
followed that with three more.
Altogether there are sixteen Polonaises
for piano solo, although the standard collections
usually contain only eleven, of
which four are posthumous publications.
In addition, there is the Grande
Polonaise, Opus 22 with orchestra
accompaniment, to which Chopin added
an introductory unaccompanied
Andante Spianato. He also wrote the
Polonaise, Opus 3, for cello and piano.
The polonaise is a Polish processional
dance in 3/4 time, and moderate in
tempo. According to Grove’s Dictionary,
“the French name dates back to the 17th
century, a period during which three French princesses in succession became consorts of
Polish kings and French customs and the French language were current at the court.” In its
numerous forms the polonaise served both as a peasant dance and for court ceremonies. The
Polonaise Fantaisie in A-flat Major, Opus 61, composed in 1845-46, was Chopin’s last largescale
composition for the piano. In a letter to his family of December 1845 Chopin, already
seriously ill with tuberculosis, wrote. “I should now like to finish my violoncello sonata, barcarolle
and something else I don’t know how to name.” The title he eventually did provide
demonstrates the work’s hybrid name: rhythms and other elements of the Polonaise are blended
into a very free, almost improvisatory structure. Franz Liszt characterized the work as
“marked with feverish and restless anxiety” and found it dominated by
“a deep sadness, broken constantly by startled movements, by sudden alarms, by disturbed
rest.” Without a doubt it is one of Chopin’s most profound and moving compositions, and
– 8 –

as James Huneker once remarked, “a work that unites the characteristics of superb and original
manipulation of the Polonaise form, the martial and the melancholic.”
During his visit to Vienna, Chopin wrote: “I have acquired nothing particularly Viennese;
and I still cannot play waltzes.” Perhaps he could not play waltzes in the traditional Viennese
ballroom manner, but he certainly could compose dance poems in that form. His waltzes were
probably inspired by Johann Strauss I (the father), whose popularity was at a peak when
Chopin came to Vienna. Some of Chopin’s waltzes are stylized dances and could be suited for
the ballroom, others, however, are lyric poems in waltz-time, which some biographers have
described as “dances of the soul.” All of them are characterized by aristocratic elegance. The
Waltz in A flat Major, Opus 42 is one of the most beautiful and brilliant of the Chopin
waltzes. By some writers it is acclaimed to depict the Duchess of Richmond’s ball on the eve
of Waterloo, described in Thackeray’s Vanity Fair. Robert Schumann, in speaking of it,
regards it as a salon piece of the noblest kind, and if played for dancers, states that “half the
ladies should be countesses at least.” Shura Cherkassky plays this work as an encore to his
recital with gusto and panache and a true Romantic sensibility.
12 Hofmann: Kaleidoskop, Op.40, No.4
Josef Casimir Hofmann was born in Cracow, Poland, January 20, 1876. His mother was
a singer. His father, Casimir Hofmann, was professor of harmony and composition at the
Warsaw Conservatory, conductor of the opera, and a composer of operettas. Young Josef studied
the piano with his father. When he was six years old he played in public at a charity concert
in Warsaw. At age nine he gave concerts in Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and
later he played in Vienna, Paris, and London.
He came to the United States in 1887 and made his first appearance in New York on
November 28 of that year. It was a “private recital for the press” given at Wallack’s Theatre,
“before a representative gathering of literary, musical, and dramatic people to the number of
200, when the new world heard for the first time the piano played in the most masterly manner
by a child only a few months over ten years old” thus Henry Krehbiel in the New York
Tribune of the day after. “The audience,” Krehbiel wrote, “saw a pleasant and robust looking
boy, dressed in dark gray jacket and pair of knickerbockers, and with an enormous sailor
collar to his shirt, reaching halfway down his back. He acknowledged with perfect ease and
self-possession the applause that greeted him, and took his seat at one piano, his father at
another. The first number was the Variations by Saint-Saëns on a Theme by Beethoven, for
– 9 –

two pianos. . . . The audience listened at first
in amazement, then in admiration, and at
last surrendered themselves to a feeling of
affectionate regard for the Heaven-gifted
genius. While he played, Hofmann ceased to
be a boy. The soul of a man, and to a great
extent, a man’s power, seemed to have passed
into him.”
Hofmann’s first appearance in public was
on the following day, at the Metropolitan
Opera House – a concert “unique in the history
of New York,” according to Henry
Krehbiel. His program included Beethoven’s
First Concerto, a “theme and variations” by
Rameau, a Berceuse and Waltz composed by
himself; a Chopin Waltz and Nocturne, and
the Weber-Liszt Polacca for piano and
orchestra. Mr. Krehbiel doubted “if the feats
of Liszt in his prodigy years could have been
more amazing. ... There can be no talk of real
depth of feeling in such a case, but the taste
of the lad is exquisite, his command of tonecolor
amazing, his reposefulness of delivery
Josef Hofmann
would reflect credit on any other artist, his
sense of symmetry is most delightful, and his
digital agility as great as that which the majority of piano players attain after practicing as
many years as this little lad has lived.”
In the course of his first American tour, young Hofmann gave fifty-two concerts in two
months and a half, thereby attracting the notice of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Children. The boy was rescued from exploitation, and was withdrawn from the public platform
for his own good, largely through the generosity and public spirit of the late Alfred
Corning Clark. He returned to Europe with his father, studied at Berlin with Urban and
Moszkowski, and in 1892 became a pupil of Anton Rubinstein, with whom he studied for
– 10 –

two and a half years. In 1894 he reappeared in public at Dresden, and in 1897 began another
concert tour of Europe and America. When he resumed his concert career he was almost
universally acclaimed as one of the most astounding keyboard artists of all time. His extraordinary
success was due in part to a breathtaking technical wizardry that has probably never
been surpassed, but equally to an incredibly sensitive control of tone and other pianistic
resources of musical variety. In 1937 Hofmann celebrated his golden jubilee with a concert
at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City. His final public appearance was at
Carnegie Hall on January 16, 1946. Hofmann made his home for the most part in Aiken,
South Carolina. In addition to his concert career, he was also a prolific composer, and a very
sucessful inventor, with more than 60 patents to his credit. From 1926 until 1938 he was
head of the Curtis Institute of Music, where one of his most gifted students was Shura
Cherkassky.
Hofmann wrote over 100 compositions. Kaleidoskop was published by Julius Heinrich
Zimmermann Verlag in 1908 as part of a set of four Charakterskizzen für Klavier, Opus 40
(the other three were titled: Vision, Jadis, and Nenien). Hofmann dedicated these four pieces
to the pianist, Leopold Godowsky. A kaleidoscope is an optical instrument, invented in 1816
by Sir David Brewster. In the 19th century kaleidoscopes eventually became very popular
toys. Most kaleidoscopes consist of a cylindrical tube through a length of which pass two
reflecting planes touching along one edge to form two sides of a triangular prism. One end
of the tube is fitted with an eyepiece, the other is closed by two circular pieces of glass (the
outer frosted, the inner clear) between which are loose fragments of colored glass or other colorful
objects. As the tube is rotated, the colorful bits and pieces fall into a variety of patterns
multiplied by reflection. Hofmann’s Kaleidoskop is a pianistic version of the popular optical
toy, where the piano notes tumble in the cylinder, creating a cornucopia of musical reflections
and refractions. In Shura Cherkassky’s authoritative interpretation, Kaleidoskop dazzles us
with its shimmering colors!
– 11 –

Shura Cherkassky
– 12 –

Shura Cherkassky (1911-1995)
Born in Odessa on October 17, 1911, Shura Cherkassky was among the last of the post-
Romantic tradition of master pianists. During his youth, he immigrated to Baltimore, and
studied in Philadelphia with the renowned Josef Hofmann, a pupil of Anton Rubinstein. His
debut concert tour in 1923 included appearances with Walter Damrosch and the New York
Symphony and a command performance at The White House for President Warren G.
Harding.
Shura Cherkassky’s enormous popularity in Germany and Austria sprang from his first
major European tour in 1946, when a concert in Hamburg established him as one of the leading
pianists of the day. All over Europe Cherkassky had his following of enthusiastic admirers,
from Scandinavia to the Mediterranean. He regularly performed at the prestigious music
festivals of Europe, including those of London, Salzburg, Bergen, Zagreb, Carinthia and
Vienna, and had collaborated with some of the world’s most distinguished conductors:
Comissiona, Dorati, Giulini, Haitink, Karajan, Kempe, Leinsdorf, Ormandy, Shostakovich,
Sir Adrian Boult, Sir Charles Groves and Sir Georg Solti.
Shura Cherkassky’s concert career encompassed the entire musical world. In addition to
Europe, he made several tours throughout the Far East, including China, Hong Kong,
Singapore, Thailand, and Japan. He also toured Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and
India. His triumphant return to his native Russia in 1976 had great emotional significance
for him, and he was re-invited for subsequent tours in 1977 and 1979.
Early in 1976 Shura Cherkassky returned to the United States after an absence of ten
years. His New York recital was received with such resounding acclaim that he devoted an
important part of each season to North America. An international artist might be expected to
remain stationary during his holidays, but not Cherkassky. His passion for constant travel
took him to Afghanistan, Thailand, Israel, Egypt, the Greek Islands, the African Coast,
Northern Europe, the South Pacific, Latin and South America, Siberia and China.
Shura Cherkassky, died in London, on December 27, 1995. Writing in Gramophone,
music critic and long-time friend, Bryce Morrison stated: “Few, if any pianists, have made
music so entirely their own, coloring and projecting every bar and note with an instantly recognizable
zest and brio. Rejoicing in spontaneity and listening askance to younger colleagues
with set and inflexible ideas, he could turn a work – whether a Beethoven sonata, a Chopin
Scherzo, a contemporary offering or a delectable trifle from a bygone age by Rebikov or
– 13 –

Albéniz-Godowsky – this way and that, reflecting
its contours and tints as if through some
revolving prism. . . . Musically speaking he was
one of life’s great adventurers, tirelessly seeking
out novel angles, nooks and crannies, deploying
a heaven-sent cantabile (“Nobody seems to care
about sound any more,” Cherkassky once
lamented) and, at his greatest, complementing
his plethora of ideas with a rich and transcendental
pianism.”
“We were fortunate to meet Shura
Cherkassky in 1978 when he performed in
Berkeley, California,” write producers Marina
and Victor Ledin. “He performed a program of
Schumann, Bartok, Chopin, and Mussorgsky...
and after the concert we went for a frozen yogurt
treat.” “He granted us permission in 1982 to
record his San Francisco recital, which was
broadcast on public radio. He remarked to us at
that time that all of the compositions he was
about to play felt fresh to him... Not one to ever
Shura Cherkassky
play any piece of music twice the same way, he
on several occasions told us that these San
Francisco performances were among his favorite interpretations. For those who were not fortunate
enough to have experienced a live Cherkassky concert performance, we hope that this
recording will prove as musically enriching as it was for us.”
Over his long career, Shura Cherkassky recorded for London/Decca, Nimbus, Vox,
Deutsche Grammophon, L’Oiseau-Lyre, Reader’s Digest, HMV, Concert Hall Society, Cupol,
Columbia, RCA Victor and Tudor.
– 14 –

Credits
Digitally recorded in concert on April 18, 1982 at Davies Symphony Hall,
San Francisco, California
Producers: Marina and Victor Ledin
Recording Engineer: Jack Vad
Remastering Producer: Michael Rolland Davis
Remastering Engineer: Ed Thompson
Thanks to Ms. Christa Phelps and the Cherkassky Estate
Liner Notes: Marina and Victor Ledin
Design: Communication Graphics
Cover Photograph: Shura Cherkassky, May 1993, by Malcolm Crowthers
Inside Tray Photo: Shura Cherkassky, June 1994
Interior Photos: Shura Cherkassky (Pages 12 and 14) by Clive Barda
To place an order or to be included on mailing list:
Ivory Classics
P.O. Box 341068 • Columbus, Ohio 43234-1068
Phone: 888-40-IVORY or 614-761-8709 • Fax: 614-761-9799
e-mail@ivoryclassics.com • Website: http://www.IvoryClassics.com
– 15 –

Shura Cherkassky
Shura Cherkassky
THE 1982 SAN FRANCISCO RECITAL
Jean-Baptiste Lully: Suite de pièces 12:39
1 Allemande 2:32
2 Air tendre 2:52
3 Courante 1:56
4 Sarabande 2:40
5 Gigue 2:39
Felix Mendelssohn: Scherzo a Capriccio
in F-sharp minor (1835-6)
6 Presto scherzando 6:26
Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky: Grand Sonata
in G Major, Opus 37 32:43
7 I. Moderato e risoluto 13:10
8 II. Andante non troppo quasi
moderato; Moderato con animazione 9:56
9
10
III. Scherzo: Allegro giocoso 2:38
IV. Finale: Allegro vivace 6:59
Fryderyk Chopin:
Polonaise Fantaisie in A-flat Major, Op.61
11 Allegro maestoso 11:50
Josef Hofmann:
Kaleidoskop, Op. 40, No.4
12 Presto 4:55
Fryderyk Chopin:
Waltz in A-flat Major, Op.42
13 Vivace 3:47
Total Playing Time: 72:43
Remastering Producer: Michael Rolland Davis • Remastering Engineer: Ed Thompson
Recorded in Concert on April 18, 1982 at Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco, California
1999 Ivory Classics • All Rights Reserved.
Ivory Classics • P.O. Box 341068
Columbus, Ohio 43234-1068 U.S.A.
Phone: 888-40-IVORY or 614-761-8709 • Fax: 614-761-9799
e-mail@ivoryclassics.com • Website: www.IvoryClassics.com
STEREO
64405-70904
®