The Nocturne is a romantic piano piece in which a nocturnal, romantic atmosphere is expressed, where perfumed melodies float serenely over a calmly murmuring accompaniment.-Credit where credit is due: the inventor of the genre is the Irish composer John Field, who made fame as a pianist of his own works. It needed the genius of Chopin to perfect the genre to the highest artistic level: Chopin's Nocturnes are the archetypes of romantic piano music, and count among his best loved works.

Mark Viner’s survey of the complete solo piano music of Alkan continues to turn up discoveries and reveal previously little-known or misunderstood sides of a protean figure in late French romanticism. Viner himself regards Alkan as ‘the most enigmatic figure in the history of music as a whole’.

Victory at the 18th International Chopin Piano Competition in October 2021 turned Bruce Liu into a worldwide sensation. Deutsche Grammophon’s live album of his competition recordings was released to rave reviews the following month, and the Canadian-Chinese pianist pianist became an exclusive DG artist in March 2022. Now Bruce Liu, "a pianist with a captivating musical personality" (Financial Times), has recorded his highly anticipated debut studio album, spanning two centuries of French keyboard music.

The Alkan Piano Concerto is an orchestration by Karl Klindworth of the three Op. 39 Etudes referred to collectively by Alkan as 'Concerto' These are Etudes 8 to 10 of the Op. 39 set. In Alkan's lifetime the Concerto was never played complete and when it was played it was in excerpts. Thus the Portuguese virtuoso, Jose Vianna da Motta (whose symphony is available from PORTUGALSOM and has been reviewed on this site and whose piano concerto is soon to be released by Hyperion) performed the first movement in Berlin in 1903. Think of the orchestral treatment as an extension of Tchaikovsky's early symphonies (particularly No. 3) and add in a perpetually strenuous piano part typical of the high-flown romantic genre - rolling pearly runs of notes, clangorous heroism and gently reflective soliloquising.

Alkan was counted in Busoni's pantheon of five romantics alongside Chopin, Schumann, Liszt and Brahms. Brahms and Schumann are the references in the euphoric Grand Duo Concertant - nothing short of a 20 or so minute Sonata in three turbulent movements. This is a work of diving romance and if Alkan had stopped in the style of the first movement then we would have been able to 'place' Alkan. Instead we get a second movement that clamours in bass heavy capering for all the world like a picture of a Black Sabbath. As if to make ‘amends’ the finale is back to the helter-skelter tumble of vivacity we find in the first movement. This euphoria carries over into the Cello Sonata which is in four classically well-tailored movements. Alkan's originality or eccentricity (take your pick) returns for the Adagio which is part sentimental and part affecting. This perhaps offers a parallel with Joseph Holbrooke's chamber works in which sublime ideas and treatment suddenly find themselves up against kitsch music hall ditties. A wild saltarello with grand manner Hungarian gestures from the piano round out the picture.

The coupling of works by Alkan and Henselt is not as arbitrary as might appear. Born six months apart, both enjoyed long lives and died within eighteen months of each other; both have been entirely overshadowed by their more illustrious contemporaries Liszt and Chopin (to the extent that they have been assigned to the footnotes of musical history), though both had an individual approach to the piano with a style as clearly defined and as idiosyncratic as their two peers; both were recluses, rarely playing their works in public; both were transcendent technicians, exploring the potential of their instrument in ways which were to influence other pianists and composers of piano music; both were eccentrics in their personal habits and lifestyles; both have been almost universally ignored by the majority of concert pianists; and neither of their names is known to the general music-loving public.

Charles-Valentin Alkan made his name as pianist in nineteenth-century Paris and seemed poised for a glittering career. But following a series of setbacks he withdrew into a life of relative seclusion, and as he receded from the public eye, so too did his music. It was never entirely forgotten, but it was not until the 1960s and 1970s that Alkan’s works began to emerge from obscurity. To quote the liner notes by Paul Wee, ‘Alkan’s music exhibits a formidable grasp of form and structure, a strong command of melody, a high sense of drama and an unprecedented exploitation of the capabilities of the piano.’

The 25 Preludes in all major and minor keys, Opus 31, appeared in 1847, designed for piano or organ, or, no doubt, for the instrument that Alkan particularly favoured, the pédalier or pianoforte with pedal-board, for which Schumann and Gounod, among others, also wrote. The Preludes go through all 24 keys, returning to a final Prayer in the affirmative original key of C major. The first set of nine opens meditatively and proceeds in a sequence of keys that moves alternately up a fourth and down a third, to F minor in the second and to D-flat major in the third, Dans le genre ancien, the old style in question being nothing more ancient than Bach, heard through the ears of Mendelssohn. Jewish tradition is at the root of the Prière du soir (“Evening Prayer”), the rejoicing of Psalm 150 and the Cantor’s chant of the Sixth Prelude.

In 1837 Alkan published a series of twelve pieces, Trois études de bravoure or Improvisations, Op. 12, Trois andantes romantiques, Op. 13, Trois morceaux dans le genre pathétique, Op. 15 and Trois études de bravoure (Scherzi), Op.16. These twelve piano pieces were issued in four volumes under the general title Douze Caprices. The studies that form the first volume had the earlier title Improvisations dans le style brillant, aptly descriptive. The first of the three, with its leaping octaves and sudden modulations, opens the door to a new world, technically and musically. It is followed by a D flat major Allegretto, initially a gentle contrast, although it increases in intensity, before the wistful ending over a sustained pedal-point.

Alkan’s chamber music deserves much more attention: It’s a crime that terrific works like his Sonate de concert for cello and piano have almost no chance to be heard. Naxos once again has raided the Marco Polo archives and resurrected this 1991 recording. There isn’t much competition available anymore, and only the 1992 Timpani recording has the same three works together in worthwhile performances. These pieces are all excellent chamber music, not to mention very difficult to play, and the Trio Alkan certainly is up to the challenge. These performers obviously appreciate the music in a way that brings out Alkan’s lyrical and whimsical qualities, which often are overlooked (or overpowered) in his piano works.

Charles-Valentin Alkan (November 30, 1813 - March 29, 1888), and his four brothers, all musicians, adopted their father's first name as their surname. Alkan Morhange (1780-1855) was the proprietor of a music school in Paris, and he early recognized among the musical talents of his sons the singular ones of young Charles-Valentin. Consequently, at the age of five Alkan was enrolled in the Paris Conservatory of Music, the breeding ground of many outstanding musicians and composers in the Nineteenth Century. Alkan studied composition and piano, making his debut at 12 years of age performing his own compositions as well as those of others. He seemed a star ascendant. Before he was 20 he embarked on the first of two trips abroad (the second two years later), the only times he was ever to leave Paris in his lifetime.

This is Marc-André Hamelin's second recording of the Alkan Concerto for Solo Piano (the first for Music & Arts dates from 1992) and he now trumps his previous ace with a performance of the Concerto of such brilliance and lucidity that one can only listen in awe and amazement.