Review: Tchaikovsky - The Seasons

What stands out about The Seasons is how it reveals a different side of Tchaikovsky, one that contrasts sharply with the bravado of his two piano concertos. These vignettes are more intimate and distinctive. In my review of Bruce Liu’s previous album, Waves, I noted that the absence of showmanship was wholly rewarding, and this approach works equally well here, capturing the personal character of the music.

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In January (track 1), for instance, his rounded tone evokes the warmth and comfort of a fireside, while about two and a half minutes in, he masterfully conveys the magic of an unexpected tonal shift. In February (track 2), his pristine runs suggest a giddy, innocent joy, akin to what a young child might feel at the titular Carnival. Still, I found myself yearning for a bit more raw excitement—something Vladimir Ashkenazy brings with a sharper edge and greater intensity in his recording.

May (track 5) is one of Liu’s standout performances in the set. The reflective mood takes center stage, and when paired with the charming melody, it creates a spectrum of emotions ranging from dreaminess to gentle intuitiveness.

Liu’s performance of June (track 6), arguably the work’s most famous movement, benefits from stellar sound quality, complemented by the instrument’s warm tone. His phrasing and dynamic nuances evoke a fragile wistfulness. My only reservation, perhaps a matter of taste, lies with the continuity—a slightly less liberal use of rubato might have enhanced the overall flow. Mikhail Pletnev’s version (Olympia) achieves a more seamless ebb and flow while retaining the contemplative essence. That said, Liu’s deeply personal interpretation pays thoughtful attention to every harmonic shift and phrasing contour.

In August (track 8), the virtuosity lies not in brute power but in the dexterity of Liu’s fingerwork, which he handles with mastery. The fast passages are immaculate yet remain vibrant and alive, capturing a scurrying, electric energy that vividly portrays the urgency of the harvest season.

The only movement that feels somewhat lacking is July (track 7). Placed after the darker June, it could benefit from more verve. While Liu voices the chords beautifully, the melody leans too lyrical for the movement’s more jubilant character. Dmitry Masleev’s version offers a brisker tempo, adding the necessary momentum and brightness.

Liu gives a fine account of the F Minor Romance (track 13), capturing its doleful air in an almost Chopinesque manner. However, for the sake of variety, a livelier selection might have better balanced the album, preventing it from becoming a study in subtlety. Despite this, Liu’s performance feels reflective, as though he is embarking on a deeply personal journey through these works.

Minor quibbles aside, Liu’s effort is impressive. As with his last album, the absence of flashy showmanship allows his artistic maturity and sincerity to take center stage.