Tamayo Ikeda: Fauré & Chopin: Le Nocturne
Ulysses Arts

Tamayo Ikeda's follow-up to her first Ulysses Arts release, 2022's Schubert: Impromptus D. 899; Liszt: Schubert Song Transcriptions, reveals its charms somewhat clandestinely, which is totally apropos considering the composers and its genre focus. As she aptly characterizes it, her latest solo piano album conducts “a game of mirrors” between Gabriel Fauré and Frédéric Chopin, with the aromatic effect of the music intensified when the set-list alternates between the composers rather than presenting them in separate halves. The concept for the project came to her when she read Vladimir Jankelevitch's The Nocturne, wherein the French philosopher contrasts between Chopin's pieces, whose introspective solemnity capture so indelibly the solitude of the night, and Fauré's, which similarly inhabit the nocturnal realm but do so with glimmerings of hope and the promise of the coming day.

As performed by a pianist originally from Japan and now residing in Paris, Ikeda's ten interpretations, while they capture the essence of the composers' material, can't help but be personalized when they're refracted through her unique lens. That's especially the case when she invests herself so completely into the music to articulate its character. Enhancing her poised playing is the piano on which she performs, an historical Pleyel piano from 1905; whereas modern-day concert pianos are designed for the auditorium and concert hall, the Pleyel was built for the private salon and smaller concert room; such a choice imbues her treatments with an intimacy wholly in keeping with the material. Luxuriating in the splendour of Ikeda's exquisite renderings proves to be a special experience indeed.

The recording engrosses the moment Fauré's masterful Nocturne No. 6 in D-flat Major, Op. 63 introduces it with an alluring lilt and rhapsodic melodic progressions; Ikeda's sensitivity to pacing, dynamics, and touch are arresting, never more so than during the nocturne's softly sparkling interlude. Also present in the writing is the aforementioned uplift that anticipates the imminent arrival of morning light. Markedly contrasting in tone with it is Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. 27 No. 1, which Ikeda delivers in a sombre hush that evokes the loneliness and stillness of night and the ache and sorrow of longing before an abrupt increase in tempo and volume suggests the onset of inner tumult. Extreme fluctuations of mood inform the piece as it moves between gaiety and despair until arriving at a place of serenity. Similar alternations in tone occur throughout the recording when Ikeda segues between Fauré and Chopin.

Whereas Fauré's Nocturne No. 4 in E-flat Major, Op. 36 is the very embodiment of romance and elegance, his Schumann-esque Nocturne No. 1 in E-flat Minor, Op. 33/1 exemplifies the character of a dreamy reverie, even if a desolate quality also surfaces. Darker still is the magnificent Nocturne No. 7 in C-sharp Minor, Op. 74, whose sombre drama lessens the distance between the composers.

As lovely as all ten renderings are, Ikeda's Chopin treatments are particularly affecting, due in part to their generally graver tone. No Chopin performances are better than her haunting renditions of the Nocturne in C Minor, Op. 48 No. 1 and Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. Posth., KK IVa, No. 16, B. 49, which are delivered at the pace of a funeral procession and with a seemingly telepathic connection to the composer's sensibility. It's hard not to think of Rachmaninov as the first of the two enters its elaborate second half, however, with its heavy chords and engulfing expressions. At the same time, no Chopin interpretation of Ikeda's is more intoxicating than her flowing treatment of the Nocturne in B-flat Minor, Op. 9 No. 1. In a not unwelcome twist, she concludes the recording with the sunny Berceuse in D-flat Major, Op. 57, a delectable, lullaby-like expression sprinkled with shimmering cascades and runs.

October 2024