Though Dalberto has competition in the two bigger works in the Blumenstuck the CD field is all his own. Like the similarly unassuming Arabeske, Schumann wrote it for the wife of Major Serre of Maxen (their spacious country home just outside Dresden was a constant retreat for both Clara and Robert in troubled days) and no doubt the work's demands were attuned to her own modest, though deeply caring, fingers. Dalberto plays it not just with lyrical charm but also enough character to justify an unrequested (in my edition) repetition of the opening section in what is already a repetitive work—just before the brief coda.
I also greatly enjoyed his imaginative caprice and fantasy in Kreisleriana which, despite his relish of arresting mood contrast, still emerges as one artfully continuous whole (and, incidentally. in this respect how very wise he is to use Schumann's original unresolved dominant chord ending of No. 5 as lead into No. 6). Comparison with Argerich on DG shows them both very much of one mind though her sometimes marginally (but only marginally) slower tempos allow her to achieve slightly clearer articulation and at times more piquant accentuation in faster numbers, and perhaps a shade more depth in moments of Eusebian soul-searching too. Her recording is a bit brighter and clearer than what we hear from Erato. But in his less crystalline way, Dalberto is just as close to the work's Hoffmannesque heart. Always he directs your ear to the secret innuendos of inner and under parts, not forgetting the capricious bass-line in No. 9.
Heard on its own, the C major Fantasia also emerges as sensitively impressionable as it is urgently, indeed passionately, felt. The reason I still prefer Pollini (DG) is for his poise. He conveys the mastery of the work's form (a hard-won victory for this impulsive young composer) no less than the intensity of its content. In the first movement this is primarily a matter of finely proportioned tempo change. In the central March Dalberto's rhythm is not quite so proud, nor has his coda all the requisite brilliance. And in the finale, Pollini's slightly slower tempo, his refusal to linger over any detail unless rubato is requested by Schumann himself, likewise his perfectly balanced melodic line and accompaniment, together create a profounder calm. Pollini is also more truthful to Schumann's own markings when hope dawns anew in the etwas bewegrer second theme. But though Dalberto's last two climaxes are slightly forced, it is he and not Pollini who carries the coda's fortissimo triumph right through to all but the last three quiet C major chords—as the score requests. In sum, I feel the Fantasia emerges as a greater work from Pollini, in fact as one of music's very greatest love-poems. But from Dalberto it is still immensely endearing.'