This recording brings together two composers who, though separated by time, geography, and musical language, share a deep affinity for the short piano form. Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849), the supreme voice of musical Romanticism, was a child of Polish tradition transplanted to the Parisian salon, where nostalgia and exile seeped into his art, giving it a raw intensity. Alexander Scriabin (1872–1915), shaped in late Imperial Russia and formed at the Moscow Conservatoire, emerged from a very different world, yet one equally charged with philosophical and aesthetic intensity. Across their differences, this programme reveals a striking continuity of spirit.
Scriabin lived through one of the most disruptive transitions in the history of Western music, witnessing the gradual dissolution of common-practice tonality and the emergence of an entirely new sonic universe, to which his own late works would make a decisive contribution. Yet in the intimate keyboard miniatures gathered here, he remains, unmistakably and movingly, a Romantic — heir to the same tradition of lyrical intensity and formal concentration that Chopin had done more than anyone to define.
That tradition belongs to the character piece: the short piano work that became one of the defining artistic achievements of the nineteenth century. Where the Classical inheritance prised architectonic grandeur — the symphony, the sonata, the concerto — Romantic composers increasingly discovered that concentrated brevity could carry an emotional and formal weight equal to that of large-scale forms. The miniature offered exceptional freedom: open-ended harmonic exploration, elliptical formal structures, and an intensified lyrical subjectivity capable of establishing an immediate connection with the listener. These small pieces were, paradoxically, the site of some of the era’s most radical experimentation.
Chopin is the composer who more than any other elevated the character piece into a vehicle of the highest artistic distinction. In his hands, genres of modest social origin — the Polish folk dance, the Viennese ballroom waltz, the Italianate song without words — are subjected to an almost alchemical refinement that simultaneously preserves their idiomatic flavour and transforms them into something more inward and searching. Charles Rosen, in his landmark study The Romantic Generation (1995), observes that Chopin’s genius resides in his capacity to render the conventional strange: a cadence arrives where expected, yet its colouring renders it newly ambiguous; a phrase returns, yet its reharmonisation transforms its expressive character entirely. Rosen saw in Chopin the most complete transformation of inherited conventions into an unmistakably personal language, and that is especially true of the shorter forms.
The Nocturnes Opp. 32 and 55 and the Mazurkas Op. 30 on this recording span approximately a decade of Chopin’s creative maturity (c. 1836–1843) and illustrate the remarkable evolution of his musical thinking across two of his most characteristic genres. His nocturnes are jewels of pure lyric poetry, combining melodic simplicity with contrapuntal subtlety, and creating striking contrasts between cantabile line and harmonic richness. Both sets of nocturnes refine bel canto lyricism and typically unfold within a ternary framework, in which an opening calm is followed by a more animated central section before returning to a transformed reprise. However, this ternary design should not be understood as strict symmetry, but rather as a poetic transformation of musical material. The Nocturnes Op. 55 are particularly introspective and harmonically exploratory, characterised by continuous, flowing textures, expressive chromaticism, and a heightened sense of suspended time.
Chopin’s Mazurkas are a profound reimagining of the Polish folk genre within an intimate and harmonically adventurous piano idiom. The Mazurkas Op. 30 belong to Chopin’s Paris years, when memories of Poland became increasingly distant yet ever more vivid in imagination. In this context, these works become an expression of exile: Polish dance rhythms are no longer social music, but recollected fragments, shaped by nostalgia and distance. They shaw therefore a sustained tension between folk origin and refined lyrical stylisation.
The waltzes represent another popular dance form transformed by Chopin into an intimate miniature, characterised by elegance, rhythmic flexibility, and a blend of charm and melancholy. Alongside the well-known posthumous waltzes, this recording includes a rarity: the recently discovered Waltz in A minor, attributed to Chopin, found in 2024 at the Morgan Library & Museum in New York. The manuscript, which comprises twenty-four bars, to be played with a repeat, was first announced by its curators and launched to the public with a first recording by pianist Lang Lang. Morabito’s interpretation represents today one of the earliest recordings of this composition.
Scriabin’s works here included inhabit, at least superficially, the same world: small forms, intimate keyboard idiom, and closely related generic titles. The Two Poems Op. 32, the Two Preludes Op. 27, the Nocturne Op. 5, and the Impromptus à la mazur Op. 7 are all products of the Romantic drawing room. Yet the comparison, pursued beyond the surface, reveals as much difference as resemblance. Where Chopin’s harmonic language, however adventurous, remains grounded in tonal function, Scriabin’s progressively dissolves that framework: voice-leading shaped by chromatic saturation, and tension that is continually deferred rather than released. The emotional world also shifts register. Chopin’s nocturnes move within recognisably human categories — desire, grief, tenderness, irony. Scriabin’s reach towards something less easily named: an ecstatic, luminous expectation that already anticipates the mystical programme of his late period, even as it remains rooted in late Romantic expressivity.
The Impromptus à la mazur Op. 7 make the comparison most instructive. The title and rhythmic framework are unmistakably Chopinesque, yet Scriabin’s harmonic language introduces thicker inner voices and heightened dissonance. Where Chopin’s mazurkas are anchored in cultural memory and national idiom, Scriabin’s are already more abstract. Even the Nocturnes Op. 5, the most conventionally Romantic work in this group, bears his distinctive harmonic fingerprint, quietly announcing a sensibility that would soon move beyond the tonal world. What is remarkable, however, is how profoundly Romantic that sensibility remains: however far Scriabin would eventually travel, these works are still permeated by the same expressive lines as Chopin’s nocturnes, sharing the conviction that the intimate and the lyrical are among music’s highest values.
Morabito’s decision to place these two composers in dialogue is therefore an interpretative act as much as a musical one — an invitation to hear the short piece not as a peripheral form, but as the very site where the Romantic imagination was most freely and enduringly at work.
© Federica Nardacci, 2026.