Ian Hobson: The Complete Schumann Piano Works – Colorful Album Leaves in Review
Ian Hobson, Pianist
Tenri Institute, New York, NY
March 21, 2025
A full house at Tenri Institute Friday enjoyed an evening of Schumann, as renowned pianist Ian Hobson played yet another installment in his cycle of Schumann’s complete piano music (which has included piano-based chamber music). The project started some five years ago just before the pandemic derailed everything, and fortunately for us there are more concerts to go. This particular concert, entitled Colorful Album Leaves, included the Bunte Blätter, Op. 99 (Colorful Leaves) on the first half, and the Albumblätter, Op. 124 (Album Leaves) after intermission, a total of 34 miniatures. Schumann had wanted to call all of these Spreu (meaning “chaff”), as they were amassed over about twenty years of being cast aside. Thankfully, Schumann was dissuaded from using that title, as chaff they are not. In addition to their individual merits, one finds in them elements that illuminate Schumann’s larger works. They are, as the noted music writer Paul Griffiths calls them in his excellent program notes for this concert, “brilliant winnowed flecks.”
Pianist Ian Hobson should need very little introduction (to anyone who has paid attention in the music world for the last four or five decades), but a few words are in order. With some 60 releases in his discography, there is very little he has not covered, from the complete sonatas of Beethoven and Schumann to the complete variations of Brahms. From delving into lesser-known masters (such as Moscheles, Hummel, and Stöhr) to championing works by composers of today (Chumbley, Lees, Gardner, Liptak Ridout, and Wyner), his range is encyclopedic. Launched internationally in 1981 with First Prize in the Leeds International Piano Competition, he is one of those special prizewinning pianists whose momentum seems to have simply grown by the year, whether in the realms of conducting, educating, or cycles of live concerts.
Having heard and reviewed Mr. Hobson several times now, this reviewer has come to think of him as a “big” pianist, the description stemming not from his physical stature (though that happens to apply) or his sound (which also applies), but from his ability to convey the big picture, painting his interpretations in broad brushstrokes, with an architect’s grasp and without fussiness or self-indulgence. Generally one might not expect such a pianist to handle well all the delicate fluctuations of these miniatures – as Schumann can be rather “needy” – but what Mr. Hobson brought to them on this occasion was a refreshing clarity, perhaps akin to his conductor’s overview. In any case, it was welcome. We could enjoy the vista of hills and valleys without getting too lost in the flurry of foliage.
From the first notes the Bunte Blätter Mr. Hobson proved to be in fine form. The first piece in this set had been Schumann’s Christmas message to his wife Clara in 1838, and one could hear the sentiment in the pianist’s warmth of tone and phrasing. No. 2 flew by with Schumann’s characteristic restlessness, and No. 3 found Schumann’s famous alter-ego Florestan presiding. In the melancholy 4th piece (which became the subject for sets of variations by both Clara Schumann in her Op. 20 and Brahms in his Op. 9), we heard from another of Schumann’s alter-egos, Eusebius, and here Mr. Hobson’s control of voices was exceptional. On the subject of control, the little finger of his right hand proved capable throughout the concert of a more penetrating sound than many a flute or violin section. When he chose to highlight an important line, it was with the sonic equivalent of a Sharpie.
In the third and fifth pieces of the Op. 99, plus a few others, the high speed led to the occasional smudge, but this reviewer decided to tune out such imperfections, as there was so much music to absorb. On that topic, a half-century of experience warrants a certain reverence, and “teachable moments” abounded. As an example, there were times when this musician thought, “Oh, there could have been more made of that phrase” – but after two iterations or further development, the “more” would come, and magically so, thanks to not giving in to immediacy.
Favorites included the Sehr langsam (No. 7), in which the suspensions were heart-rending. The Praeludium (No. 10) was also memorable for its stormy drive. Ones that were harder to embrace included the Marsch (No. 11) – with the trio section’s incessant repeated chords emerging as a bit overbearing in this hall – and the Abendmusik (No. 12), which was simply hard to follow. These are not the friendliest of Schumann’s strays, but Mr. Hobson did give them a good home for the evening. He also brought to life the Scherzo (No. 13) and the quirkily humorous Geschwindmarsch.
After intermission, Mr. Hobson emerged with the score to the twenty pieces of Op. 124 (Albumblätter), but only, as he quipped to the audience, to check “which order” they’re in. Indeed, the music sat by the side of the rack, ignored until a quick check for sequence around the twelfth piece.
Highlights of this set included the Walzer (No. 4), which had a welcome liberty about it, and the winsome Wiegenliedchen, though it had more momentum than what one might expect from a lullaby. A less familiar one to this listener, the Burla (No. 12), was delightfully robust, and the next Walzer (No. 15) was beautifully ethereal. The final piece, Canon (No. 20), closed the concert with a hallowed feeling. One already looks forward to the continuation of the cycle on April 25, with a concert entitled Love and Nature III. Looking further down the road, Schumann and Hobson fans can save September 26, 2025 as well.
