The Three Nocturnes Op. 9, composed in 1830-32, are Chopin’s first published set of Nocturnes and feature some of his most universally revered music. No. 1 (B flat minor) is a mysterious meditation on space and loneliness. Personally, I have always felt the middle section of this Nocturne to be a musical representation of the vastness of sea horizons - with precise images such as as the cry of seagulls, waves breaking on rocks, and ships vanishing in the distance - in line with the imagery of great Romantic painters such as Caspar David Friedrich. After the tenderness and intimacy of No. 2 (E flat major), No. 3 (B major) takes the listener along a breathtaking flight through the night sky, at times moving, frightening, and elevating. To me, the final “Adagio” marking in the last measures signals a feeling of profound communion with the night, the stars, and the whole of Creation.

The Three Nocturnes Op. 15, published in 1833, bring back many of the poetic motives and themes of the Op. 9 in a more philosophical and pensive character. No. 1 (F major) features one of Chopin’s most evocative melodies, supported by a strikingly original use of chromatic harmony, dissonance, and counterpoint. Op. 15 No. 2 (F sharp major) is imbued with longing, tenderness, and self-confession, in a similar fashion to Op. 9 No. 2. In No. 3 (G minor), Chopin retreats even more inwards and drafts a delicate meditation on mortality pinned with unanswered, open-ended questions. (It is said that Chopin had initially inscribed “At the Cemetery” on the manuscript of this Nocturne, only to later delete the inscription while exclaiming: “Let it figure it out by themselves!”)

With the Two Nocturnes Op. 27, published in 1837, Chopin began pairing the Nocturnes in couples. From now on, each couple of Nocturnes expresses the two indivisible sides of a singular, unified poetic problem. In the case of the Op. 27, we meet the shadows of hopelessness and tragedy (No. 1 in C sharp minor) paired to a religious feeling of awe, gratitude, and elevation (No. 2 in D flat major). Towards the end of No. 1, the sublime appearance of the lullaby-like tune in major key may be felt as a sudden remembrance of the purity of childhood - the memory of the Mother - that consoles the inconsolable and opens up new and unexpected horizons of hope and transcendence.

The Two Nocturnes Op. 32, also published in 1837, function as a moment of rest and quiet contemplation within the overall narrative of the Nocturnes. After the dreaminess of No. 1 (B major), which is interrupted by a sudden recitativo, we plunge into the awe-inspiring tenderness of No. 2 (A flat major), a work of miraculous simplicity and spontaneity.

With the Two Nocturnes Op. 37, published in 1840, we see Chopin at the height of his philosophical and symbolic thinking. No. 1 (G minor) is one of Chopin’s most enigmatic creations. To the first section, incredibly rich in moods and details, follows an almost static, choir-like hymn, as if embodying the conflict between the fleeting (the psychological) and the immutable (the spiritual): a powerful testimony to Chopin’s unrivaled poetic genius and striking capacity of synthesis. After the depths of No. 1, No. 2 (G major) is a delicate fantasy on the themes of hope, memory, and childhood.

The Two Nocturnes Op. 48, published in 1941, are the most orchestral in texture among all the Nocturnes, particularly No. 1 (C minor). The spiritual and religious scope of this first Nocturne is beautifully expressed by Jan Kleczyński: “[The middle section] is the tale of a still greater grief told in an agitated recitando; celestial harps come to bring one ray of hope, which is powerless in its endeavor to calm the wounded soul, which sends forth to Heaven a cry of deepest anguish.” No. 2 (F sharp minor) features one of Chopin’s longest and most heartfelt melodies, as if endlessly wandering, searching, and asking.

The Two Nocturnes Op. 55, published in 1844, showcase the increasing harmonic and contrapuntal complexity of Chopin’s late style. No. 1 (F minor) is, to me, a song of illness; countless hours are distilled in a few minutes of music, in which one is left without purpose and hope, cut out of life, and with only brief sighs of relief. Towards the end, however, the momentum of the coda and the appearance of the F major sonority project us once again towards the night sky and the freshness of the night air. No. 2 (E flat major) is a song of impossible and idealized happiness: a song of communion with the whole of reality that has the intensity of a mystical, love-union experience.

The Two Nocturnes Op. 62 (B major and E major), published in 1846, are, to me, undefinable in words. There is above all a sense of distilled experience, otherworldly distance, and metaphysical hope. In my opinion, the mysteriousness of these two works testify of a mind and a heart that are already wandering across the line, “too close to the fire”, in a dimension that is beyond this world.

The three posthumous Nocturnes - in E minor, C sharp minor (which is not technically a Nocturne, although it has entered tradition as such), and C minor - were composed at the very beginning of Chopin’s artistic parable (E minor, 1826 and C sharp minor, 1830) and at the very end (C minor, 1847-48). This last Nocturne, in particular, is supremely aching and nostalgic, and may well be seen as the composer’s swan song and farewell to the world. Hence my choice to perform it pianissimo.