Cathal Breslin: Stories & Soundscapes
Blue Griffin Recording

A preliminary scan of the set-list pianist Cathal Breslin fashioned for Stories & Soundscapes might suggest a fairly dramatic divide between traditional and contemporary material, what with works by Chopin and John Field appearing alongside two electronics-enhanced settings by Irish composer Linda Buckley. However, the four powerful Ballades by Chopin register as strongly as her Fridur (2015) and Water Witch (2022), the latter a world premiere recording; furthermore, the two nocturnes by Field sound anything but dated, despite their having been written over two hundred years ago.

Derry, Northern Ireland-born Breslin's delivered solo recitals in renowned concert halls across Europe, Asia, and the Americas and appeared as a soloist with orchestras far and wide. He's comfortable playing alone or as a duo member with partners such as soprano Measha Brueggergosman, violinist Anne Akiko Meyers, and cellist Jeffrey Zeigler. Breslin earned his Doctor of Musical Arts degree at the University of Michigan and is currently a Piano Professor at Arizona State University. By his own description, Stories & Soundscapes combines “two complementary ways of listening: music as narrative, and music as environment” and clarifies his primary artistic focus as a pianist, “to explore new ways of storytelling, and to bring together different sound worlds—historical and contemporary—within the same shared musical space.” To that end, the project successfully couples works that unfold with narrative purpose and others more akin to explorative spaces one inhabits.

It feels right that the recording should begin with Field, the Dublin-born composer regarded as the originator of the nocturne, when the tone of his music so vividly anticipates Chopin's. It would be wrong, however, to regard the two Field nocturnes as little more than templates for others to follow as both, their differences notwithstanding, capture his Irish musical voice. The lyrical warmth of the Nocturne No. 2 in C minor (1814) provides a superb point of entry, not only for its tender introspective character but for the sensitivity with which it's rendered.

Contrast permeates the four Ballades, which some regard as the zenith of Romantic piano music. They certainly require an exceptionally high level of technical dexterity but also demand from the pianist refined emotional expression. The performances show that Breslin's affinity for Chopin extends beyond the fact that they were born on the same day (March 1st); also interesting is the fact that the four were written between 1835 and '42 and thereby reflect the composer's development through that period. After a dramatic opening flourish, Ballade No. 1 in G minor eases into a serene state; eruptions are never far away, though, and consistent with that the volatile ten-minute piece regularly oscillates between lyrical calm and volcanic declamation. The monumental passages Breslin handles with aplomb, but his treatment of the gentler ones is as impressive. In contrast to the first, Ballade No. 2 in F major opens in a peaceful lyrical mode, the tone stately, folk-like, and pastoral; an abrupt eruption, however, shifts the music into a tumultuous zone until splendour reinstates itself. Speaking of lyricism, Ballade No. 3 in A-flat major impresses especially in that regard, and it would be a cold heart indeed that could resist its elegant flow. Exceeding twelve minutes, Ballade No. 4 in F minor is the longest odyssey of the four and boasts arguably the most memorable theme, an elegiac and haunting one voiced with impeccable control by Breslin. This last Ballade is not for the faint of heart as it places immense technical and expressive demands on the pianist.

Easing the transition between Chopin and Buckley is the second Field setting, his Nocturne No. 5 in B-flat major (1817) a lovely study in poetic artistry and terrific example of Breslin's magnificent touch. Conceived during an Iceland stay and composed in a wooden cabin overlooking Lake Laugarvatn and Mount Hekla, Fridur (which derives from an Icelandic word meaning peace or calm) announces a dramatic change in presentation when electronics shimmer luminously alongside hushed piano chords. While an impression of time-suspending stillness extends across its dozen minutes, it's not without activity and portent, as the darker tonalities and fluttering piano textures that emerge four minutes in make clear. Pulling from Celtic folklore and the composer's memories of growing up beside the Atlantic Ocean on Ireland's south coast, Water Witch grounds itself in the figure of the white-haired and blue-skinned Muireartach, the embodiment of the storm-raging sea. Witchiness is definitely afoot during its sixteen forceful minutes, from the rumbling piano patterns that introduce it to the hot-wired electronics that sputter, ripple, and writhe next to the relentlessly churning piano. Moments of thunder and spooky atmospherics emerge but so too do gentle passages of chiming solo piano.

June 2026