The Piano Music of Chopin, Volume Three by Vladimir Ashkenazy – A Deep Dive into Timeless Emotion
If you’re a sucker for classical music that feels like a heart-to-heart conversation, this album’s got your name on it. Released in 1977 under London Records, The Piano Music of Chopin, Volume Three is Vladimir Ashkenazy doing what he does best—channeling the soul of Frédéric Chopin through his fingers. And let me tell ya, it’s not just another polished recital; it’s raw, intimate, and full of life.
Let’s talk about two tracks that stuck with me long after the last note faded. First up: Sonata No. 3 in B Minor, Op. 58 – Finale. Presto, Non Tanto - Agitato. This one hits different. From the get-go, Ashkenazy throws you into this whirlwind of energy, like someone’s flipping pages of an old diary faster than you can read them. The pacing? Insane. It’s frantic but controlled, chaotic yet beautiful. You can almost feel Chopin pacing around his room late at night, wrestling with thoughts too big for words. By the time the final chords ring out, I was left breathless—not sure if I wanted to cry or jump outta my chair.
Then there’s the Nocturne in E Flat, Op. 55, No. 2. Oh man, this piece is pure magic. It starts soft, almost hesitant, like someone tiptoeing through memories they’re scared to disturb. But as it builds, Ashkenazy lets loose all these delicate little flourishes that make your chest tighten. There’s something so tender about it—it’s not flashy or overdone, just honest. Like when you catch yourself staring at the stars and suddenly realize how small everything is. That’s what this track did to me.
What makes this album stand out isn’t just Ashkenazy’s insane skill (though, c’mon, the guy’s a legend). It’s how alive these recordings feel. Credit goes to engineers John Dunkerley and Simon Eadon—they captured every nuance without drowning it in studio tricks. And props to producers James Walker and Richard Beswick for letting the music breathe. Even the liner notes by Caine Alder add this layer of depth, though honestly, once the piano starts playing, you’ll forget to read anything.
Here’s the thing: listening to this record feels less like hearing music and more like eavesdropping on history itself. These pieces weren’t written yesterday—they’re from another era entirely—but they still pack a punch. Maybe because we’re all secretly searching for moments like these, where beauty and pain collide so perfectly. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Who knows?
Anyway, here’s the kicker—listening to this album made me wanna learn piano again. Spoiler alert: I suck at it. Still, there’s something inspiring about hearing someone pour their heart into something so simple as black-and-white keys. Makes you wonder what other treasures are hiding in dusty vinyl collections, waiting to be rediscovered.
