During a six-month stay in Vienna in 1838-39, Schumann hoped to find a publisher for his journal Neue Zeitschrift für Musik. Although his attempt was unsuccessful, his time in Vienna was very productive, resulting in five piano works: Arabeske, Op 18; Blumenstück, Op 19; Humoreske, Op 20; Novelletten, Op 21; and Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op 26. In a letter to a friend he confided: ‘Perhaps you will find that my style has become lighter. Previously I used to rack my brains a great deal about music, now I cross out scarcely a note.’

The unwieldly title of Op 26 is usually translated as Carnival Jest from Vienna. The German Fasching, like the French Mardi Gras, is a time for much revelry, with parties, parades, food, song and drink being enjoyed in the period just before Lent – when these pleasures were supposedly given up. Schumann experienced the Carnival in mid-March 1839 and he immediately sought to recapture it in Faschingsschwank. At first he referred to it as a ‘big romantic sonata’ and as a ‘romantic showpiece’. A subtitle, Phantasiebilder (‘Fantasy Pictures’), was added at the time of publication.

The style of the work is lighter than some of his previous major pieces such as Kreisleriana, the Études symphoniques, the Fantasie and the three piano sonatas: the textures are thinner, the harmony is simpler, the forms are clear-cut and the piano-writing is a bit less challenging. As Liszt astutely observed, the work is a transitional one that ‘infuses classical forms with romanticism, or, in other words, conjur[es] up the romantic spirit within classical limits.’ It is worth noting that Schumann’s future wife Clara Wieck wrote to him in the weeks before he began composing it to urge him to ‘write something brilliant and easy to understand, something that is a complete and coherent piece that would please an audience’.

The opening Allegro, the most extensive movement, is in rondo form with a vivacious recurring main theme and five episodes. The episodes, which begin at bars 24, 86, 150, 252 and 340, provide welcome contrasts of tempo, key, mood and dynamics. The fourth episode includes a rousing fortissimo statement of the opening of the Marseillaise, the French national anthem that was forbidden in Vienna at the time – a sly ‘jest’ on Schumann’s part. The brief second movement is a slow Romanze built on a descending five-note scale related to the so-called ‘Clara theme’ that appeared numerous times in earlier Schumann works, notably as the opening theme of the Fantasie. The third movement, a playful Scherzino in ABA form, is followed by an ardent and beautiful Intermezzo in E flat minor, a piece that has little in common with the others but is all the more welcome for that. The fifth and final movement, in sonata-allegro form with three themes, provides a lively, celebratory ending to the cycle – one that certainly fits the request in Clara’s letter.

Faschingsschwank was well received by critics after its publication in 1841 and was performed numerous times by Clara. It later became a repertoire staple of such leading historical pianists as Hans von Bülow, Emil von Sauer, Harold Bauer, Ignaz Friedman, Benno Moiseiwitsch and Josef Hofmann.

Early recordings, 1934-70

The first recording of Op 26 was made in 1934 by the noted Brazilian-French pianist Magda Tagliaferro, one of the most important students of Alfred Cortot. Fire and poetry were the hallmarks of her style, and these come through very well despite some over-generous pedalling in the first movement and Pathé’s indifferent sound. The Intermezzo is wonderfully ardent and colourful, with balances that suggest playing by three hands. The finale is also very fine, light and airy and with prominent dynamic surges for the main theme. Her playing throughout is ongoing and never sectionalised.

Magda Tagliaferro made the first recording of Faschingsschwank aus Wien in 1934 (Tully Potter Collection

Yves Nat made persuasive recordings of many Schumann pieces. He was an impassioned player, technically superior but not conspicuously concerned with details. The first and last movements of his Op 26 are the best, with admirable clarity and spontaneity. His playing was probably at its peak at the time of this recording. Soon afterwards, he retired from public performance to concentrate on teaching at the Paris Conservatoire. In the mid-1950s he recorded Beethoven’s 32 sonatas, the first French pianist to do so.

The English pianist Adelina de Lara was one of only four students of Clara Schumann to make recordings (the others being Fanny Davies, Carl Friedberg and Ilona Eibenschütz). Her disappointing account of Op 26 was made in 1951 at the age of 79. Chords are frequently rolled, dynamics are mostly forte, there is little attempt at voicing or colour, and thick pedalling and wrong notes abound.

The first performance I heard of Op 26 was by Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli in 1968 in Rome. My distant memories are reinforced by five live recordings, the best of which is probably a London one from 1957. Tempos, balances, pedalling, colours, moods and technical perfection are all that one could hope for. True, some passages in the first and last movements are played an octave lower than written, but this does not at all detract from its being one of the top recordings of the work.

On the same high level is the account by György Cziffra. The great Hungarian virtuoso, sometimes accused of being only a virtuoso, is here a poetic and sensitive musician as well. My comments about Michelangeli apply almost equally to Cziffra’s fine recording.

Sviatoslav Richter exceeds even Michelangeli in the number of live performances available, and the best is probably his EMI recording. Although it is stated as a live performance, there is not a single audible cough, sneeze or rustle of paper. Instead, we hear the full range of Richter’s poetry, colourism, dynamism and playfulness. However, the second movement, played as quietly as possible, is too intimate to make any real effect, while some of the fortissimos in the first and last movements are excessive.

The middle generation, 1970-2000

Jörg Demus’s recording is one of the best. The opening of the first movement is clean and clear, and the fourth episode is less heavy and boisterous than in many performances. The Intermezzo is warm and ardent, with perfect tempo and balances. The finale is not needlessly fast, bearing in mind that the coda is marked presto.

The French pianist Brigitte Engerer plays with flair and imagination. The first movement includes some particularly nice shading in the third episode and a contemplative approach in the fifth episode. The Romanze is slow and wistful, and the Scherzino benefits from a light touch and an unforced middle section. The Intermezzo is urgent and well paced, with some gentle breaking of left-hand octaves at several points. Overall, a fine account.

Alicia de Larrocha was an excellent Schumann player and the first movement is full of bold as well as nuanced moments. The Intermezzo might have been written with her unique brand of pianism in mind. Her tempos and pedalling thoughout the work are judicious, and her tone is warm and generous regardless of the tempo or dynamics.

One of the finest recordings is by Murray Perahia. In the outer movements his playing is big, rich and spontaneous-sounding, with never a hint of percussiveness. The Romanze flows naturally and is suitably wistful, while the Intermezzo wins the prize for the best delivery on records. He is one of the few to omit the repeat in the finale and I didn’t miss it. There are wonderful dynamic contrasts throughout, and the coda of the finale is one of the fastest and cleanest on record.

By contrast, Vladimir Ashkenazy is disappointing. He charges through the work as fast and as loud as possible, with little attention to balances and contrasts of touch and mood. A sense of playfulness is particularly lacking.

Maria João Pires is the antithesis of Ashkenazy, at times verging on over-interpretation. But she is such an involved and involving musician that I can accept most of her little added ritards, rushes and modifications of dynamics. Her playfulness in parts of the first movement seems just right, and her light approach to the usually massive fourth episode allows the Marseillaise to assert itself with great fervour. The Romanze is hushed and lovely, and the finale features nice contrasts, although the melody in the coda is drowned by too much pedal.

Since 2000

The German pianist Michael Endres finds a wide variety of touch and dynamics throughout, with a nice lilt in the third episode of the first movement and appropriate grandeur in the fourth. The Intermezzo is warm and nicely coloured, and the perfectly paced finale is one of the most exciting. His recording ranks with the top ones by Perahia and Michelangeli.

Piotr Anderszewski’s live performance at Carnegie Hall is quite remarkable. The first movement is spiked with occasional agogic accents, and he finds a welcome variety of dynamics in the fifth episode. The Romanze is suitably tender but I find it a bit too slow and too quiet; and in the Intermezzo a more uniformly clear melody is needed. The finale is a total success – fast, clear, lightly pedalled and thrilling.

The opening movement of the account by Éric Le Sage is full of subtle contrasts and nuances, with the sections smoothly elided as the score indicates. He plays the fourth episode jubilantly but I think it might have benefited from some brief cutbacks in dynamics to enhance the effect of Schumann’s many short crescendo markings. The Romanze flows naturally and doesn’t take itself too seriously, and the nuanced Intermezzo gets a perfect realisation. The finale is very fast, with some light touches and thin pedalling, culminating in one of the most exciting codas.

Leon McCawley’s performance is quite good but the recorded sound lacks immediacy, especially in the piano’s middle register. In the first movement the left hand is a bit too loud and the melody in the first episode is thin. Similar blandness characterises the Romanze but the performance perks up in the lively Scherzino. The semiquavers in the Intermezzo are too prominent, the melody not enough. The finale is the most successful movement, with clear textures and good rhythmic stability.

The account by Idil Biret is vivid and refreshingly straightforward. Judicious pedalling throughout results in unusually clear textures, without dryness. This applies particularly to the outer movements and contributes to a finely delineated Intermezzo. The finale is not excessively fast or loud, with welcome attention to the small crescendos on the opening page and a very exciting coda.

Jean-Efflam Bavouzet is keenly aware of balances throughout Op 26, with a light left hand in the first movement, some lovely voicing, and a big and rich sound for the fourth episode. The Romanze is lovely from first note to last and the Scherzino is perky and discreetly pedalled. The Intermezzo is one of the finest versions, full of colour and with every strand in perfect balance, often giving the illusion of three hands playing. The finale is fast and light, with a particularly playful section with crossed hands.

The recording by Christopher Park is excellent in every way. There is never a dull moment in the opening movement, with a wide variety of touches and dynamics and a fifth episode that moves more convincingly than in many versions. His Intermezzo is warm and thoughtful, full of surges and exultation. The dynamics of the finale are nicely varied, including exact observance of the short crescendos in the main theme. I also like the small breathing spaces he finds between the sequences of the third theme. Park seems to have this music in his blood and he makes his points in a natural and convincing way.

The recent version by Llŷr Williams is fresh and spontaneous, with a light touch and nice melodic projection in the outer movements. The Romanze is lovely and deeply felt, and it is good to hear the left-hand slurs accurately realised in the middle section of the Scherzino. The Intermezzo is warm and colourful, and the well-paced finale includes some small accelerandos and ritards that I find quite welcome.

I cannot bring myself to choose a ‘best’ recording, but the five that I will be happiest to return to are those by (alphabetically) Bavouzet, Endres, Michelangeli, Park and Perahia.

This article originally appeared in the Spring 2024 issue of International Piano. Never miss an issue – subscribe today