Nicolas van Poucke: The Schumann Collection, Vol. 2
TRPTK

Interestingly, a page in the release booklet included with The Schumann Collection, Vol. 2 lists all of the equipment-related details for the release—microphones, cables, etc.—except for a most critical one, the piano Nicolas van Poucke played when he recorded the material in October 2022 at Muziekcentrum van de Omroep in Hilversum. In the case of an album devoted exclusively to works by Robert Schumann (1810-56), the instrument the Dutch pianist used is of particular importance when the music involves such sensitivity of expression and touch. For the record, the press release for the album does identify the model van Poucke played, in his words, “a really fantastic Steinway grand piano, wonderfully prerecorded by Steinway technician Charles Rademaker.”

On van Poucke's second volume of pieces by the composer, the Steinway is exceptionally responsive, so much so that the customary connection between musician and instrument in this case runs even deeper. Listening to the performances can begin to seem like eavesdropping on the most intimate kind of private communication. The first volume was received enthusiastically upon its late 2020 release, and there's nothing to suggest the follow-up won't be met with the same response by critics and listeners alike.

Comprising pieces from the composer's early and late period, the set couples familiar works by the Romantic composer, Kreisleriana, Op. 16 and Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6, with the lesser-known Gesänge der Frühe, Op.133 and Geistervariationen, WoO 24. If any pianist is capable of delving into Schumann's world, it's van Poucke. He began piano lessons at the age of six, went on to study at the Conservatorium van Amsterdam, was coached by legends Martha Argerich, Murray Perahia, and Alfred Brendel, and has performed at prestigious venues such as Het Concertgebouw and the Concertgebouw de Vereeniging Nijmegen.

Look no further than the popular Kreisleriana and its long-form second part for evidence of the pianist's deep connection to Schumann. Inspired by E. T. A. Hoffmann's fictional figure Kapellmeister Johannes Kreisler, the eight-part work can be seen, the pianist contends, as a musical portrait of Kreisler but also as a self-portrait wherein “Schumann's yearning for Clara [Wieck] is central while interwoven with the fantastical world of Hoffmann's Kreisler.” Having successfully scaled the daunting mountain that is the work's opener, “Äußerst bewegt,” van Poucke turns his attention to the eleven-minute “Sehr innig und nicht zu rasch” for a particularly illuminating and incandescent reading. Buoyed by dreamlike ascents and descents and alternating passages of tenderness and exuberance, the oft-rhapsodic music hums gently under his fingers. There's adventure aplenty in the six movements that follow, from the lyrical rumination “Sehr aufgeregt” to the playful “Sehr lebhaft” and high-velocity “Sehr rasch.”

Elsewhere, the 1853-composed Gesänge der Frühe comprises five poetic settings designed to evoke feelings associated with morning, be it pensive contemplation (“Im ruhigen Tempo”) or lively awakening (“Belebt, nicht zu rasch”). The thoughtful, probing examinations by van Poucke and the broad range of styles and moods encompassed by the work are characteristic of the album in general. Davidsbündlertänze is considered by van Poucke to be the “most personal and touching of all of Schumann's works”; consistent with that, the work was Robert's engagement present for Clara. Members of the Davidsbünd, an imaginary society conceived by the composer who represented young artists rebelling against the musical establishment of the day, included Florestan and Eusebius, fictional characters the composer used to embody the contrasting sides of his nature, the former a flamboyant extrovert and the latter a poetic introvert (in the first published edition of the work, Florestan and Eusebius are listed as the composers, with Schumann's name absent). Rapture, tenderness, playfulness, and dynamism emerge in equal measure as the work progresses through eighteen concise parts, the attunement between pianist and composer strongly evident in the nuance with which every phrase is delivered. In that regard, van Poucke's execution of the penultimate “Wie aus der Ferne” and wistful closer “Nicht schnell” is particularly lovely.

Whereas Davidsbündlertänze and Kreisleriana were written during periods of joy, Geistervariationen was composed towards the end of Schumann's life as darkness crept in. During a February night in 1854, he claimed he heard Schubert's voice giving him a solemn chorale-like theme, which he immediately wrote down and fashioned into a set of variations a few days later. After he unsuccessfully tried to kill himself by throwing himself into the Rhine, he added a final variation to the work, the last music he composed. Institutionalized soon after, he died two years later on July 29th. The theme is haunting, to be sure, and the variations sing as sweetly, even if awareness of the circumstances under which they were written amplifies their melancholy.

November 2023