Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813–1888) is the kind of composer whose name makes musicians light up with reverent awe—or duck in fear. A contemporary and friend of both Chopin and Liszt, Alkan was a prodigious French pianist and composer whose brilliance at the keyboard rivaled the greatest of the Romantic era. Yet despite his genius, his legacy teeters between cult admiration and puzzling obscurity.
Alkan was born in Paris to a Jewish family and entered the Paris Conservatoire at the impossibly young age of six. By eleven, he was winning prizes in piano, harmony, and organ. His early compositions and performances wowed the Parisian salons, and he was poised for a glittering career. Then—he disappeared.
Well, not literally. Alkan pulled back from public life, withdrawing for long periods and making only sporadic appearances. Legend has it he became reclusive after a professional disappointment—possibly being passed over for a Conservatoire appointment or because his flamboyant contemporary Liszt cast too long a shadow. Whatever the cause, Alkan’s retreat only deepened his mystique.
What he left behind is staggering. His Études dans tous les tons mineurs (Studies in All the Minor Keys), Op. 39, is a Mount Everest of Romantic piano writing—complete with a full symphony and a Concerto for Solo Piano embedded in its pages. These works are devilishly complex, not just technically but emotionally, mixing Bach-like structure with stormy Romantic pathos. He also composed for organ and pedal piano, embracing instruments as idiosyncratic as his lifestyle.
Alkan was deeply spiritual, often meditative, and fiercely original. His works suggest a mind obsessed with intellectual depth and formal innovation. Yet his music was—and still is—known by few. Perhaps because it's so difficult to play, or because Alkan himself did little to champion it publicly, his music remained in the shadows for decades after his death.
And about that death—there’s a long-circulated (and highly dubious) tale that Alkan died when a bookshelf full of Talmudic texts fell on him. More likely, he fainted in his kitchen and was found beneath a coat rack. Either way, it was an unglamorous end for a man whose music is anything but.
Today, Charles-Valentin Alkan is enjoying a slow-burning revival. Pianists like Marc-André Hamelin, Jack Gibbons, and Ronald Smith have championed his works, shining light on a composer whose pyrotechnic brilliance and profound soul were far ahead of his time. Alkan’s music may not be easy—but it rewards those brave enough to take the plunge.
In short? Alkan was the mad scientist of the Romantic piano: misunderstood, magnificent, and maddeningly difficult. A genius who stepped back from the spotlight, leaving behind music that’s still catching up to the present.
Top 3 Piano Works
- Concerto for Solo Piano (Op. 39, Nos. 8–10)
A jaw-dropping, orchestral-scale work written for piano alone. It’s massive, explosive, and emotionally charged—an Everest for pianists. -
Le Festin d’Ésope (Op. 39, No. 12)
A set of wildly imaginative variations based on fables, brimming with character and technical wizardry. Alkan at his most theatrical and clever. -
Symphony for Solo Piano (Op. 39, Nos. 4–7)
Four movements of stormy, tragic beauty, somehow turning a single instrument into a full-blown symphonic drama. Brooding, bold, and breathtaking.
Want a bonus pick? Try Grande Sonate: Les Quatre Âges—a philosophical journey through four stages of life, all on 88 keys.
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