“Hats off, gentlemen – a genius!” It was Robert Schumann’s very first review, published in the Leipzig periodical Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung on 7th December 1831, that contained this oft-quoted acclamation. The recipient? Frédéric Chopin, praised for his Variations in B flat major on “La ci darem la mano” from Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Both Schumann and Chopin were barely out of their teens and were relatively unknown, but Robert’s lavish plaudit has stuck.
Born in 1810 in Żelazowa Wola near Warsaw, to a French father and Polish mother, Chopin displayed extraordinary musical talent from an early age. A Wunderkind of Warsaw’s soirées, often compared to Mozart as a child prodigy, he absorbed Polish folk idioms as instinctively as he mastered Bach.
When he left Poland in 1830, just as the November Uprising against Russian rule broke out, Chopin was destined never to return. Exile became both wound and inspiration. He eventually settled in Paris, which became his adopted home. There he moved in influential artistic circles, befriending figures such as Hector Berlioz, Franz Liszt and the writer George Sand (Aurore Dupin), with whom he had a long and complex romantic relationship.
Chopin wrote almost exclusively for the piano, his music coming to define the poetic and expressive possibilities of the Romantic era. His works include nocturnes, études, preludes, mazurkas, waltzes and polonaises – forms he transformed into vehicles of deep emotional expression, fastidious craftsmanship and technical innovation. Drawing inspiration from Polish folk music, especially in his mazurkas and polonaises, Chopin infused national character into refined salon music.
“His creativity was spontaneous, miraculous,” wrote Sand in The Story of My Life. “He found it without seeking it, without expecting it… But then would begin the most heartbreaking labour I have ever witnessed. He would shut himself up in his room for days at a time, weeping, pacing, breaking his pens, repeating or changing a single bar a hundred times, writing it and erasing it with equal frequency.”
Chopin’s performance style was sensitive and nuanced, favouring intimate salon gatherings over the large concert halls adored by Liszt. However, he struggled with frail health, likely due to tuberculosis, and after many years of illness, he died in Paris on 17th October 1849, at the age of just 39. In this playlist, we doff our hats to Chopin’s genius.
1Nocturne in E flat major, Op.9 no.2
The quintessential salon Chopin – ornamented melody floating over a murmuring accompaniment. Yet beneath its apparent simplicity lies exquisite control of line and timing. It helped cement his early Parisian reputation as the supreme miniaturist of the keyboard.
2Piano Sonata no. 2 in B flat minor, Op.35
Best known for its Funeral March – which was later played at Chopin’s own burial in Paris – the Second Piano Sonata is far stranger than its fame suggests. It was composed during the summer of 1839. A demonic Scherzo, a grief-stricken procession and a finale that evaporates into spectral whispers, it is mortality contemplated, not merely dramatised. Witold Lutosławski described the sonata as “like a sculpture hewn from rock”.
3Polonaise in A flat major, “Heroic”, Op.53
If exile sharpened Chopin’s nostalgia, it also intensified his pride. Written in 1842, the “Heroic” Polonaise, a pinnacle of Romantic piano literature, transforms a stately Polish dance into something epic. Octave passages blaze with defiance; this is nationalism refracted through aristocratic grandeur. It was George Sand who suggested the title “heroic”.
4Prélude in D flat major, “Raindrop”, Op.28 no.15
Composed during the uneasy Majorcan winter with George Sand, the so-called “Raindrop” Prelude suspends time with its insistent repeated note. What begins in luminous calm darkens as storm clouds gather into a tempestuous outburst, exploding octaves in the bass, before the restful mood returns. It is a miniature study of psychological drama.
5Ballade no. 2 in F major, Op.38
Less often programmed than its G minor sibling, the Second Ballade juxtaposes pastoral innocence with violent eruption. The tranquil opening is repeatedly shattered by tempestuous episodes in A minor – a study in volatility, perhaps mirroring a composer whose inner world was rarely placid.
6Étude in C minor, “Revolutionary”, Op.10 no.12
When news reached Chopin of Warsaw’s defeat in the 1831 uprising, he reportedly cried: “All this has caused me much pain. Who could have foreseen it?” The C minor Étude channels political anguish into left-hand fury with its relentless semiquavers. Technique here is inseparable from emotion; the keyboard becomes a battleground.
7Piano Concerto no. 2 in F minor, Op.21
Chopin’s two piano concertos are both products of his youth. They contain some remarkable piano writing, even if his orchestrations are nothing to write home about. Although designated no. 2, the F minor concerto was the first to be composed. The central Larghetto remains one of his most rapt inspirations. A nocturne expanded to orchestral scale, it sings with operatic tenderness.
8Barcarolle in F sharp major, Op.60
Composed in the summer of 1845, the Barcarolle is late Chopin at his most harmonically adventurous. Beneath the lilting Venetian 6/8 rhythm lies intricate counterpoint and daring chromatic shading. It’s sensuous on the surface, but architecturally masterful underneath.
9Mazurka in A minor, Op.17 no.4
In the mazurkas, Chopin distilled memory. Asymmetrical phrases, modal inflections and sudden dynamic shifts all evoke Polish folk roots without ever quoting them directly. This melancholy A minor example fades into ambiguity, nostalgia unresolved.
10Waltz in C sharp minor, Op.64 no.2
If the waltz is often thought of as light salon fare, Chopin’s C sharp minor waltz proves otherwise. Its minor-key elegance is tinged with melancholy, the opening theme graceful yet shadowed. The contrasting D flat major episode offers warmth and lyric bloom before the return of introspection. Here is Chopin the social composer – writing for Parisian drawing rooms – yet incapable of mere charm. Even in triple time, there is depth beneath the glitter.
And as a bonus, here’s Yunchan Lim playing those “Là ci darem la mano” Variations that so impressed the young Robert Schumann:
