Frédéric Chopin
Preludes (Op. 28). Cortot

Fates.

It's 1955 in Munich. Alfred Cortot, prince of thieves, lord of the stolen, is already 78 years old and his fingers are no longer as agile as before, but the people have come all the same to listen to “his” Preludes.

It's 1838, Chopin is in Valldemossa, on the island of Mallorca. He has followed his Aurore, in search of sun to cure his cough. The cough has not healed but Fred has completed the composition of the "Preludes" on which he had been working for at least three years.

"The Preludes" (Op. 28) are fragile sketches, splendid miniatures, one for each key, ordered according to major keys and their relative minors. None shorter than 13 bars, none longer than 89.

Preludes that prelude to nothing. Delirious musical intuitions.

Cortot knows them well, he has played them many times and each time - each time - in a different way. Because Cortot does not interpret Chopin: he reinvents him. His is an “imperfection” that leads him to "lose some notes between his fingers" but with a natural, superhuman sensitivity and an absolute control of the variations in the intensity of the touch.

Alfred who was a pianist by chance. His father wanted him to be a musician even though he showed no inclination towards music. But he studied with Decombes who was a student of Chopin (and that's how Frédéric entered his life).

Alfred who became a concert performer because of Wagner. Because Alfred does not want to be a pianist but a conductor, a Wagnerian conductor, and in 1902 he even succeeds. He presents Wagner's "Götterdämmerung" for the first time in Paris but the enterprise is economically disastrous, and Cortot, who had taken responsibility for it, finds himself burdened with debts.

It is the beginning of an extraordinary career as a concert performer.

It's 1905 and Cortot, with Thibaud and Casals, forms one of the most acclaimed trios in Europe.

It's 1839. Aurore now hates Valldemossa. She had, once again, hoped to forget de Musset (her true great love) in the arms of that young pianist, her new lover. But Fred clung to her with his neuroses and fragile health and Aurore went back to being George, who smokes cigars and dominates discussions. While she only desires arms that tell her "don't worry, now rest," and that hold her tight.

It's 1940, Alfred is 63 years old. For more than thirty years he has been one of the main figures of French musical life. He is considered one of the greatest living pianists, he has taught at the Paris Conservatory and among his students, he has had people like Clara Haskil, Dinu Lipatti, and Vlado Perlemuter. His lessons are highly sought after, people flock to his concerts.

But in Paris, the Nazis arrive.

I confess: I do not love Chopin. Too many people love him, and almost always for the wrong reasons. It's always like this with the Romantics: the inessential prevails, the exteriority hides the content. I rarely listen to the "Polonaises" in Rubinstein's "surgical" version, the "Nocturnes" collect dust now, whether played by Arrau or by Pollini. The same goes for the "Studies".

My Chopin is Cortot playing the "Preludes".

"What is wonderful about our art is that it allows us to recreate a beauty, if not dead, at least dormant between the lines of the staff."

That 1955 concert will be recorded and will end up on a record published in 1983 by Movimento Musica. A record – as far as I know – never reissued neither on CD nor on any other medium.

As far as I know, I own the only copy (how I love to believe it!). That's why at the top of this review another cover reigns. After all, Cortot recorded countless versions of the "Preludes", all beautiful and all different.

But my "Preludes" are in this record, in this mono recording of a 1955 concert. Here the "Preludes" are an extraordinary page of contemporary music, with inattentive listening you would say it's a lost Satie played by Petrucciani.

It's 1946 and Cortot has had to pay for it. “Persona non grata” in France: too conspicuous his relationship with the Vichy regime, too cumbersome his name and, after all, he is even Swiss.

But why? What had he done? He had only continued to be a musician! In Paris, in those days, at parties you could meet Jean Cocteau and Sartre, Celine, and André Gide. Instead, Simenon and Sasha Guitry were found in the evening at the “Chabanais” or the “Sphink” (the best brothels in the capital). Edith Piaf and Maurice Chevalier performed for the occupying troops. The Germans left the artists alone, Picasso, Camus, Matisse, de Beauvoir, they could continue to work undisturbed. Alfred even saved some Jewish musicians. Yes, some disappeared and others died, there was Resistance and gays were arrested, but what could he do? He had collaborated with the German ambassador Otto Alberz, but Alberz was a cultured and refined person.

One morning the Nazis had shown up at Pablo Casals' place, in the village where he was hiding and starving. To him, a fierce anti-Francoist, they had asked to perform in Berlin; when he refused, they asked - at least - to play something for them. His old friend refused again, fearing for his life, but the Nazis left without harming him.

And Furtwängler? Cortot had met him in Berlin. He had even played for the Führer’s birthday, although he never made the Nazi salute and refused to shake Goebbels' hand, but, in 1949, he will be offered the directorship of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (and it matters little if Jewish musicians will refuse to play with him).

Cortot is “persona non grata”, he will not be able to perform for a year, and in France, his name will be long discredited.

It's 1839. Chopin is in Paris. He has published the "Preludes". Few have understood them: too different, indecipherable, shapeless, short, iconoclasts. Schumann will define them: "ruins and eagle feathers."

With George (where is Aurore now?) things aren't going well. He finds himself still remembering Constancia, she cares for him but he is more a third child than a lover. He still follows her to Nohant but hates the environment that surrounds them. She cannot stand his relationship with her daughter Solange. He is capricious and moody.

In 1847 he will return to Paris. He will die two years later.

George writes “Lucrezia Floriani”, the male protagonist, that prince Karol, "exclusive in his feelings and needs", is perhaps her Fred.

It's 19XX, a young student roams record stores. Silly and presumptuous, he believes that Music is One and that Beauty is a laden table. And he wants to taste everything.

Only later will he understand that Art does not explain Life, it only helps to endure it.

Cortot and Chopin are there, waiting for him.

Destiny.

It's 1838. Prelude No. 8 in F-sharp minor. Outside it rains. It's a storm. The complex and agitated theme is entrusted to the right hand. Three different rhythmic elements. Aurore does not return, "she knows I don't want her to go out in this weather." The thumb plays thirty-seconds interspersed with melodic notes. “Where is she! Why isn’t she back!”

"Fred! Oh Fred! Here I am, mommy is back."