My first review for Gramophone was of a Chopin recital (the Ballades and Impromptus) by Nikita Magaloff; the start of a complete cycle for Philips. My review, more critical than constructive, was welcomed by the then editor Malcolm Walker ('just the sort of reviewing Gramophone needs'). It began: ‘It would be pleasant to welcome the first volume of Nikita Magaloff's projected complete Chopin recording but alas, his readings of both the Ballades and Impromptus amount to little beyond a dutiful survey rather than an impassioned reappraisal of Chopin's genius.’ I had sent a covering note to the editor with my review saying I was sorry to write something so negative for a first review, and perhaps future issues of Magaloff’s Chopin could go to someone else (Joan Chisell). But along came the Nocturnes, which struck me as even more bland and depressing than the first issue.

Many years later I rejoined Gramophone, the result of conversations between the late Peter Wadland of Decca and James Jolly, together with a sizeable amount of reviewing for The Times and The Telegraph. Gramophone is now the most respected of all record review magazines, my work for it continues to be both a challenge and a delight, and I remain grateful for many heart-warming responses from readers.

Chopin Ballades Nos 1-4. Impromptus Nos 1-4

Nikita Magaloff pf

Philips Universo (Buy from Amazon)

Coupled as above: Vásáry (6/67) (3/74R) (Buy from Amazon)

Ballades – selected comparison: Frankl (4/64) (7/69R) 

It would be pleasant to welcome the first volume of Nikita Magaloff's projected complete Chopin recording but alas, his readings of both the Ballades and Impromptus amount to little beyond a dutiful survey rather than an impassioned reappraisal of Chopin's genius. One must hope for better things to come but it would be dishonest to deny that this is an inauspicious start or that Magaloff sounds tired of his task at the outset. Time and again he substitutes emphasis for intensity, lethargy for impetus and momentum. Detailed analysis would make for depressing reading but it is difficult not to note the awkward gasp which commences the final presto of the First Ballade or the absence of spring in the rhythm of the Third Ballade's second subject. Here, one of Chopin's most magically lilting and insinuating ideas is given very much less than its poetic or pianistic due. But generally speaking, the more strenuous the music the more quickly Magaloff runs out of steam. His lack of quality is also particularly notable in the Impromptus where Chopin's most elegantly conversational style positively cries out for vivacity and refinement. 

Comparison with Frankl or Vásáry is more cruel than odious, for both these Hungarian pianists have far more fire and fluency to offer. Neither, in the last resort, offers great or compelling readings though of the two Frankl is surely the more persuasive. Lacking in the last ounce of intensity or projection his rapidly paced responses and stylish dismissal of technical difficulties are often impressive (most notably in the Second Ballade). Vásáry has a more sharply etched way with the text though his illuminating view of Chopin's cross rhythm soon after the central animato of the First Ballade is a recreative exception rather than the rule. Elsewhere, his rubato shuffle is irritating because so externally applied and some of his playing is less fluent than one might have expected. 

Connoisseurs of this music will have to look elsewhere, to artists like Rubinstein and Pollini, and no one should omit Cortot's recordings. Long-breathed phrasing, gallic effervescence, improvisatory freedom and a real sense of occasion are rich compensations for the odd burst of erratic pianism. Above all none of his performances suffers from the blight of ordinariness.

Bryce Morrison (Gramophone, August 1976)