

Hough’s recent recording is a survey of the nocturnes, one of no less than six albums he recorded during lockdown. A pair of nocturnes followed, and Hough wonderfully brought out their ineffable allure that makes them amongst the most beloved works in the repertoire. The Mompou-esque movements were rather more meditative, though not without spiky contrasts, and the piece culminated in a big-boned finish that echoed the brilliance of the beginning.įour works by Chopin completed the recital, starting with a warmly lyrical account of the Ballade no. The opening was bright and energetic, and the colorful harmonic palette with which Hough worked was utterly captivating. Moreover, Canción y Danza is an explicit homage to Federico Mompou, another composer whose body of work Hough is closely associated. A five-movement conception, Hough explained that the outer movements ( Overture and Toccata respectively) were inspired by the cathedral organ, while the inner movements ( Capriccio and Canción y Danza I & II) are based on the interval of a fifth. Hough presented his recent (2019) Partita. In this case, the English composer was Hough himself, who has enthusiastically donned the mantle of the composer-pianist. The recital’s second half mirrored the first in pairing a more contemporary English work with a Romantic one. Another highlight came in the fugato passage of the penultimate movement wherein the pianist achieved a pointed clarity, in no way compromised by its breathless vigor. In the sharp rhythmic gestures that punctuated, Hough used limited pedal to yield a strikingly dry tone, saving the more liberal pedaling for the lyrical sections in the interest of further maximizing contrast. Hough was keen to emphasize these contrasts, authentically capturing its mercurial temperaments. This is music of enormously wide contrasts, embodying the opposing Florestan and Eusebius personas Schumann crafted, perhaps in reflection of his bipolar condition.

At times I found his tone a bit harsh, but this evened out as he better adjusted to the instrument he was provided. In the commanding opening, the darkly passionate material was given quite a workout. In lesser hands, Schumann’s 35-minute Kreisleriana can meander and wander, but Hough’s reading was of singular direction and purpose in spite of the work’s kaleidoscope of moods.

The percussiveness of the opening was tempered by the wistfulness of the succeeding piece, and the closing Lento was perhaps the finest in its languid nostalgia. Just over a minute apiece, they manage to say much in little. Written in 1938 for Gordon Greene – who would later become one of Hough’s teachers – the Bagatelles are each based on the same ten-note theme.
