Schubert wrote four impromptus in 1827; his publisher printed only the first two. The third — this one — stayed in a drawer until 1857, twenty-nine years after his death. It is a single melody sung for six minutes, over a left hand that flows from the first bar to the last without stopping. The full piano score is on screen, note by note.
He wrote six flats; the version that got printed had one
In 1827 Schubert was thirty, and Beethoven had died that March. Of that year's four impromptus the Viennese publisher Haslinger printed only the first two at the end of it, as Opus 90; the other two waited until 1857.
And that print had been altered. Schubert wrote the piece in G-flat major, six flats, in 4/2 time, four half notes to a bar. The published version was moved to G major, one sharp, rebarred into 4/4, which doubled the number of bars. The usual explanation is that it sold better that way: six flats was a real obstacle for people buying sheet music to play at home.
Schubert's G-flat original did not reach print until the complete edition of 1888; most players today use it, as this recording does.
He died in November 1828, the year after writing these four pieces, aged thirty-one.
The twelve-fingered pianist in Gattaca is playing this piece
The 1997 film Gattaca has a recital scene with a twelve-fingered pianist, and what he plays comes from this piece.
Michael Nyman wrote the score, adding notes and harmonies to Schubert's impromptu until ten fingers could no longer reach them all — the track, "Impromptu for 12 Fingers", names Schubert's Op. 90 No. 3 in its own title.
So the film gives you Nyman's version. This recording gives you what Schubert wrote.
One melody sung for six minutes, over water that never stops
Three layers arrive together at the opening: a slowly singing melody on top, a wide band of continuous movement in the middle, and one held bass note at the bottom. That middle layer never stops — you hardly notice it, but you would at once if it did.
The phrases are long. A line goes out, you expect it to land, and it is still going; when it does land you exhale.
The middle section sinks. The sound drops into the bass, the bright key darkens, and for a few bars it is as if someone had turned half the lights off. Then it climbs back up to the highest note in the piece, and the opening melody returns — the same line, over a thicker flow.
The last bars close very quietly: the left hand slows, thins out and settles on the lowest note. Nothing here is ever really loud.
The same sentence three times, with one dark journey in between
Bars 1 to 24 are the theme, the same sentence walked three times over different harmony. From bar 25 the texture thickens and stacks upward. Bars 35 to 38 sit entirely in the bass, the lowest four bars in the piece; from there it climbs to the highest note of all, G5, at bar 49.
At bar 55 the theme returns and runs to bar 69, the right-hand melody note for note identical to bars 1–15; what changes is underneath — the flowing middle line gains thirteen notes, twenty-eight more across those fifteen bars. From bar 70 the reprise turns towards the close: the flowing left hand thins out step by step and settles on the lowest note.
The accompaniment is one figure the whole way: triplets pushing forward group by group, never once broken.
The notes are not the difficulty; six flats and a left hand that cannot stop are
The notes themselves are not fast. Two things make it hard.
First, the key. G-flat major has six flats and almost every white key is lowered, so the hand keeps wanting to read it as some other key; both sight-reading and memorising cost extra. That is exactly why the 1857 publisher moved it to G major.
Second, the layering. The right-hand melody has to sing and its phrases must not break, while the same hand — usually the thumb — also carries the continuous middle line, which has to stay quieter than the tune. Three layers, three dynamic levels: that is the central task here.
The dark middle section sits low, where too much pedal turns to mud; those bars need changing more often than the rest.
Do not rush it. This version is at 112 to the quarter, four half notes to the bar, six minutes sixteen; any quicker and you stop hearing the melody sing.
We rate this 4 out of 5.
The other three of the set, and the piano music of his last years
The first of the set, in C minor, opens like a march: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4U6QVyffxs
The second is all fast figuration, the one students play most; the fourth, in A-flat, has broken chords falling from high on the keyboard.
There is a second set of four impromptus, D. 935, also from 1827; its third piece is a set of variations.
Equally slow and long: the last three piano sonatas, D. 958, 959 and 960, from the year he died.
