The Polonaise-fantaisie, Chopin’s last major piano work, is widely considered one of his finest achievements. But it was not always so. Its free, dreamlike sequence of sections can make it a bit perplexing on first hearing, and during the 19th century it was not much appreciated. Liszt, for example, disparaged the work as full of ‘fevered anxiety’, and Chopin’s early biographer Frederick Niecks wrote that its ‘pathological contents place it outside the sphere of art’. But today the work has a firm place in the repertoire, has been recorded by the world’s greatest pianists and has been praised by musicians everywhere. Its original form and extraordinary chromatic harmonies, together with its very imaginative piano-writing, seem to point to a new style that Chopin might have developed had he lived longer.

The work’s history begins with the extensive sketches made during an 18-month period in 1845-46. The piece took its final form in the village of Nohant during the summer of 1846, when Chopin was staying at the country house of his lover, the novelist George Sand (the pen name of Aurore Dudevant). She and Chopin were joined by their great friend, the painter Eugène Delacroix, who agreed to take the multiple autographs of the Polonaise-fantaisie, the Barcarolle and the two Op 62 Nocturnes back with him to Paris, where they were eventually dispersed to publishers in France, Germany and England. (The autograph used for the Breitkopf & Härtel edition can be found on the website imslp.org).

Charles Richard-Hamelin came second at the 2015 Chopin International Piano Competition (photo: Elizabeth Delage)

The form may be charted in this way: Introduction, A (beginning at bar 24), B (bar 66), A (bar 94), C (bar 116), D (bar 152), E (bar 180), Transition (bar 226), A (bar 242), D (bar 254, including motif from Introduction), Coda (bar 268). Elements of the Polish national dance are combined with the more improvisational features of a fantasy. Conventional design is replaced by a discontinuity of ideas that the sketches show was deliberate.

The pianistic and interpretative challenges are many, starting with the opening bars. Does the first fermata refer to the whole bar or just to the chord under it? Are the arpeggiated figures written in small-note crochets to be played with rhythmic and dynamic inflections? How long is the second fermata and should one make an audible break in sound before each bar? Questions such as these abound, not to speak of the significant pianistic requirements.

The comments below offer a sampling of the more than 100 recordings currently available on CD.

Early recordings, 1933-1970

The 1933 recording by the Swiss pianist Walter Rehberg is included here because it was the first one. Although it is technically accomplished, it is much too fast and musically prosaic. Better is the 1947 account by Alfred Cortot, though it’s a pity he didn’t record it when he was in his prime. It’s also a pity that he tried to squeeze it on to two 78rpm sides. While there are no cuts, the tempos are necessarily brisk and these result in quite a few wrong notes. But Cortot’s tonal magic is everywhere present in the warm, deep melodic playing, the convincing rubato and the inspired poetic concept. (A recording from the 1950s on the Concert Artist label is wrongly attributed to Cortot.) Stefan Askenase, a student of Emil von Sauer, was a fine Chopin player and his Op 61 from 1951 holds together exceptionally well. This is mainly due to the fact that the B and D sections, which contain many beautiful moments, are not excessively drawn out. However, the final pages sound over-pedalled and rather choppy. Arthur Rubinstein’s 1964 recording is his most satisfying version. The arpeggios of the first page are nuanced and they fade out like smoke into thin air. But I am not convinced by his treatment of the opening rhythmic figure as a relaxed melodic sigh. Later his playing is intimate and direct, with a lovely D section and ideal balances between the hands. The closing pages are fast and generously pedalled, sweeping us away with their élan.

Finghin Collins recorded one of the finest modern versions of the Polonaise-fantaisie in 2016 (photo: Frances Marshall)

Martha Argerich has always had élan to spare and her 1967 account boasts much temperament and colour. The B theme seems a bit fast but it features nice impressionistic touches. The closing pages are brilliant and may well set new records for speed and volume. Adam Harasiewicz won the Warsaw Chopin Competition in 1955 and has made many successful Chopin recordings. Things get off to a slow start in his 1968 account of Op 61 but his playing soon catches fire. He holds the work together with tempos that are not extreme, and his interpretation is full of poetry and passion, reminding me a bit of Rubinstein’s account. Another excellent recording from the 1960s is by Menahem Pressler. It is memorable for its natural rubato, well-judged tempos, tonal variety, strong architectural projection, a lovely D section with fine voicing of the outer melodies, and stunning climactic pages.

Finally, we come to Vladimir Horowitz, who made three commercial recordings, all of them live. The first, from a 1951 recital at Carnegie Hall (Naxos), is a good representation of the score and of his relatively sober style at the time. This is much preferable to his 1982 playing at the Royal Albert Hall (RCA), which is almost psychedelic in its musical and pianistic excesses, creating a caricature of the piece. The version to have is from a 1966 Carnegie Hall recital. Here he is the master of the finest nuances and of every technical challenge; you can hear this in the first pages, arresting without exaggeration, while the B and D sections are coloured as a great singer might. Throughout there are wonderful contrasts of touch and a fine architectural sense. The passionate climax is not too fast but rather it is orchestral in its epic grandeur. The piano sound is warm and beautifully captured.

Nelson Goerner brings colour and imagination to his 1996 recording (photo: Jean Baptiste Millot)

Also from this early period should be mentioned some out-of-print CD performances that can be heard on YouTube. They include fair-to-excellent ones by Shura Cherkassky, Halina Czerny-Stefanska, Sergio Fiorentino, Louis Kentner, Peter Frankl, Magda Tagliaferro and Alexander Uninsky.

The middle generation, 1970-2000

The 1972 recording by Garrick Ohlsson, made two years after he won the Warsaw Chopin Competition, captures the listener’s attention right from the start with free and well-timed delivery of the opening ideas, the fermatas generating anticipation for what follows. The A theme is played with a sense of dignity and nobility, with fine nuances that don’t call attention to themselves. The B section has a natural give-and-take, and D is especially lovely due to its simple delivery and perfect balances. The E theme is coloured with a tinge of sadness that we don’t always hear. The tempo of the transition to the final return of A is effective, building gradually so that the arrival is grand and fulfilling, rich and unforced. This is one of the truly great versions, to put alongside his more recent account on Hyperion. In his 1973 account Daniel Barenboim might have played the first page with more freedom and shape but his tempos and balances are otherwise quite perfect, with deep projection of melodies, fine dynamic differences and a good, strong fifth finger for the right-hand melody at the climax. As one might expect from such an outstanding conductor, aspects of architecture and colourism are well realised. Emanuel Ax’s 1975 recording reminds me of Rubinstein’s in its musically direct and natural delivery. By turns it is poetic, colourful and robust. It is well paced and with perfect voicing throughout, and it achieves fine climactic moments. Vladimir Ashkenazy displays a variety of nuances on the opening page, although the agitato in the A section could be less loud. The D section is quite slow, but interest is maintained by two generous but temporary crescendos. The transition begins quietly and rather slowly, building to a bravura climax.

Severin von Eckardstein made a fine live recording in 2021 (photo: Yoshie Kuwayama)

The late Fou Ts’ong was a renowned Chopin player and his account of Op 61 from the late 1970s is full of special touches that set it apart. The A theme is not fast but rather deeply projected, whereas the B section moves along fairly quickly and with more pronounced polonaise rhythms than many players provide. The rhetoric of the C section is almost underplayed, and the slow middle section is rather free and rises to a mezzo-forte midway through. Fou makes us wait quite a bit before beginning E, which reappears as if in a dream. The transition section begins rather deliberately and pianissimo, building bit by bit to the grand final statement of A. Fou’s interpretation is obviously deeply felt and commands the listener’s attention without exaggerations or special effects. Vlado Perlemuter, one of Cortot’s outstanding students,was a fine Chopin player. His recording reveals a direct, full-bodied approach, with perfectly judged tempos and an unusually clear polonaise rhythm in the B section. He sharply differentiates his sound in the agitato and dolce sections. D is not too slow and the melody sings out with due attention to the interplay with the left hand. In the big closing moments, however, his deliberate pacing and some of the balances are a bit of a let-down. On his recording from 1983, Ivan Moravec displays more temperament than I usually associate with him. The opening is perfect, with small inflections of the arpeggios and a breath of air between bars. He seems to really listen to the diminuendo of each arpeggiated figure before starting the next statement – which adds to the sense of improvisation this page should have. The D section is slower than most, but steady and with fine voicing, and the climactic statements are excellent.

The sound on Claudio Arrau’s 1984 account is rich and natural, and the playing is bold and forthright, with deep melodic projection and perfectly judged tempos. The B theme flows and the polonaise rhythms in the inner voice are very clear. The D section is lovely and flows naturally into the E theme. The transition begins under tempo and builds in speed and dynamics to the magisterial return of the A theme, played with perfect voicing. Peter Katin in 1987 underlines the polonaise rhythm better than most in the B section, projects the melodies well in D and achieves subtle nuances without point-making. The big closing pages are fiery but the A theme lacks sufficient projection. Otherwise, he plays with admirable clarity and tonal refinement.

Daniil Trifonov (photo: Roger Mastroianni)

The Polonaise-fantaisie held a central place in the repertoire of Sviatoslav Richter for almost 60 years: at one time there were 17 live commercial recordings available. His performances from the 1970s and ’80s are remarkably consistent, although the one from Prague on 20 July 1988 may be the best of them. The arpeggios of the opening page are rather slow but he makes us hear each note leading to the next. The A section is quite free and passionate, and the B section is convincingly rather fleet, with amazing lightness. The bars leading up to D are very exciting and almost impossibly fast but the anxiety calms down to a completely serene and simple delivery of the D section. The build-up to the final return of A is intense and thrilling, and the arrival is grand and broad, with perfect voicing for the thickly written texture. In the closing pages he plays like a man possessed, pushing to the edge of what is possible. He seems to be playing as if he wants us to hear what the music is doing to him at any moment, not what he can do with the music. All of these qualities can be seen and heard on YouTube in a wonderful performance given in Moscow in 1976.

The Argentinian pianist Nelson Goerner has won particularly high praise for his Chopin. On his 1996 recording he plays with colour and imagination from the very first notes. He also projects a keen architectural sense and this makes the first ABAC sections seem like one long paragraph. The D section sings with subtle inflections and E is very tender. His tone and voicing are perfect throughout, with a grand coda that is never too loud. Goerner’s is one of the finest accounts. On his 1997 disc Richard Goode is never romantically excessive but characterises each section with understanding. He always supplies what is needed, with strong melodies that move with direction, colourism in the cadenza-like passages, perfectly paced D and E sections, and a very fine coda.

Since 2000

The interpretation of the American pianist Barbara Nissman is somewhat akin to Goode’s but I especially like her opening arpeggio figures, with fade-outs that make me think of evaporating smoke. I also like the way she holds the work together and resists excessive tempos. Her playing sounds natural and flexible, with the part-writing clear in the unfussy D section. On her 2008 recording Maria João Pires starts with nice mysterious effects, and there are a lot of fine details along the way. But in general I find her tempos a bit too free and some spots are greatly drawn out, especially the E section. The coda is valiant, but it sounds like a bit of a challenge. The opening page of Stephen Hough’s 2009 account is not quite atmospheric enough, and he adds an unwelcome ‘comma’ between the first two beats in each of the statements. I like his thin pedalling for the B theme, the tenderness at the start of the C section and the perfect voicing of the climactic return of the A theme. Despite these strong points, the many modifications of tempo and dynamics tend to sectionalise the piece. ‘Patrician’ might describe the approach of Maurizio Pollini on his 2015 recording. It is technically accomplished but the dynamics are often either too loud or too soft, with little attempt to ‘orchestrate’ the sound with a variety of touches. The recording reflects a literal approach and lacks sufficient temperament for this work.

Trifonov and Yuliana Avdeeva (above) both came to widespread attention at the 2010 International Chopin Competition, where Avdeeva won first prize and Trifonov third (photo: Harald Hoffmann)

Imogen Cooper the same year gets our attention from the very first notes and plays with colour and imagination throughout. The B section is lovely and the build-up to the magisterial return of A is perfectly paced. The closing pages are not especially fast but they are big and orchestral. Charles Richard-Hamelin won second prize in the 2015 Chopin Competition in Warsaw and his recording, made a few months prior to that event, is among the finest accounts available. The opening is rich and spacious, promising a personal approach that is sensitive to every nuance in the score while at the same time always moving the music forwards. Bravura and poetry coexist without calling attention to themselves and the work is held together unusually well, with mighty sonorities in the closing pages that are excitingly paced and beautifully recorded. Finghin Collins’s 2016 recording is one of the outstanding modern versions. He seems to really listen to each note on the first page, and makes us also do so. From the first A section to the end of the coda he plays in unusually long phrases, with natural rubato and flowing tempos. The D section is especially lovely and the exciting closing pages are shaped with unusual continuity. Equally fine is the live performance by Severin von Eckardstein, winner of the 2003 Queen Elisabeth Competition in Belgium. He projects each section as though it is part of one great flow of ideas, playing across the bar lines and increasing our sense of the work’s improvisatory nature. Colourism rather than rubato characterises his playing of the D section, and the climactic return of A is full and rich, with unforced grandeur. A distinctive and remarkable interpretation.

I have saved for last the three top prize-winners of the 2010 Warsaw Chopin Competition. The Polonaise-fantaisie was a required piece that year and all three winners were captured live in their competition performances. The winner of the first prize was the Russian pianist Yulianna Avdeeva. Her account is indeed winning, with subtle phrasing, strong dance rhythms and real intensity projected in the big moments. D moves along with subtle colourism, and the closing pages are big and unforced. This is one of the finest recordings of the work. I am less impressed with the Austrian pianist Ingolf Wunder, who tied for second prize. His playing sounds monochromatic and forced at times, and the climactic pages are simply too loud, with little attempt to differentiate the voices. Much more interesting, musically and technically, is the Russian pianist Daniil Trifonov, who may have placed third but is the only one with a really major international career today. He projects total involvement with the music at every dynamic and tempo, and conveys moods ranging from very reflective to very grand – including complete command of the big closing pages, which never sound forced. His utterly musical, intense and communicative playing is that of one of today’s finest pianists.

There can be no ‘best’ recording of a work that is by its nature open to an unusually wide variety of interpretations. But I will cite 10 recordings that I find very special, ones that I would not want to be without: alphabetically, they are by Arrau, Avdeeva, Collins, von Eckardstein, Goerner, Horowitz, Ohlsson, Richard-Hamelin, Richter and Trifonov.