In Auckland, Piers Lane finds diversity of mood in Chopin's Nocturnes

Hearing all 21 of Chopin’s Nocturnes in sequence might seem like too much of a good thing: two hours or so of slow right-hand melodies over broken-chord accompaniment. But in the hands of pianist Piers Lane, this was a consistently enthralling journey from the charm of Chopin’s youth to the increasing sophistication and emotion of his later works. Chopin didn’t invent the form of the piano nocturne, but he took John Field’s innovation to a completely new level of poetry and intricacy.

Within these short works, Lane found surprising contrasts in dynamics, colour and emotion. The three early works with which he began are simpler in conception, and he dispatched them with delicacy and magnetism, showing attention to the details: such as gently drawing out the lower voice in the right hand of Op.72, no.1 and a creating a haunting mood in the posthumously published Lento con gran espressione. His tone was deliciously soft and dreamy in the opening on Op.9, no.1, with the lovely melody singing out with restrained elegance. His rubato was always tempered, shaping the phrases warmly but without any obtrusiveness. Lane drew attention to surprising parallels with Satie’s Gymnopedies in the Op.15, no.3, but a spirit of dance intriguingly permeated the spare textures. The sudden bitterness of Op.27, no.1 wasn’t skimped upon, and it built up to a thunderous, craggy climax.

Later, as Chopin started to take on some of the contrapuntal complexities inspired by Bach and Beethoven, Lane found an ever greater variation of mood. His melodic shaping was pure poetry over the rocking left-hand accompaniment of Op.32, no.2. It was clear that there is much more to Lane’s conception of these works than surface beauty. This was most obvious in the grand conception of the funereal Op.48, no.1, where darkness predominated but never without the light of nobility shining through Lane’s playing, particularly striking in the octaves preceding the climax. He was also not afraid to make an ugly sound, such as in the end of Op.32, no.1, where the previously elegant phrasing dissolved into a raucous conclusion. All of Lane’s virtues as a player came together in a glorious rendition of Op.62, no.2, with its lovely melody reminiscent of earlier Nocturnes. Superbly delineated contrapuntal interplay between the hands and a freedom of rhythm heightened the expression of the syncopated middle section.

There was no sign of any technical foibles at any point, as Lane effortlessly dispatched the musical demands. For example, he demonstrated perfect control and buoyancy in the long trills that feature so heavily, especially in Op.62, no.1. Equally adept in the more stormy elements, such as the brilliant articulated agitated bass of Op.9, no.3. He utilised Chopin’s alternate ornamentation in the popular Op.9, no.2, giving some new life to this familiar piece, cascades of notes effortlessly decorating the melody. Having exhausted the Nocturnes, Lane’s encore was a light and teasing rendition of the same composer’s Waltz no. 7 in C sharp minor, Op.64, no.2, a fittingly light end to an impressive afternoon of music-making.