Pianist Peter Donohoe talks about the music of Florent Schmitt and recording the composer’s stunning Symphonie concertante (1932).

“Florent Schmitt’s music is very extravagant and complex, and he often wrote for immense forces — the Symphonie concertante being a prime example. Overall, the piece possesses a very powerful originality …”

— Peter Donohoe, English pianist

On October 30, 2025, English pianist Peter Donohoe joined the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and its conductor emeritus Yan Pascal Tortelier at the Dock●10 recording center in Media City/Salford outside Manchester to record Florent Schmitt’s exuberant Symphonie concertante pour orchestre et piano, Op. 82 for Chandos Records.

It was only the second time this stunning piece of music has been commercially recorded (the first one released more than thirty years ago). Adding to the sense of occasion, the choice of Peter Donohoe to perform the challenging piano part in an equally challenging score was a masterstroke, ensuring that the new Chandos recording would be one of special merit.

The Symphonie concertante is an intense, busy score that surely must have tested the limits of the first musicians to perform it – Serge Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony Orchestra (in November 1932). The composer, himself an accomplished pianist, was the soloist in those two BSO performances that coincided with Schmitt’s only visit to the United States, during which he toured major American cities coast-to-coast over several months’ time before returning to France via Japan and the Soviet Union.

In the years following its Boston premiere, the Symphonie concertante would be taken up by a number of important conductors including Dmitri Mitropolous, Pierre Monteux, Paul Paray, Désiré Inghelbrecht, Albert Wolff, Désiré Defauw and Roger Boutry, along with notable pianists including Hélène Pignari, Jean Doyen, Monique Haas and Françoise Petit.

But due to its modernity as well as its complexity, the work has always resided on the periphery of the concertante repertoire. Indeed, setting aside the premiere recording made in 1993 by Hüseyin Sermet and the Monte-Carlo Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of David Robertson, the Symphonie concertante has had a public hearing only once during the past four decades – in 2023 with Japanese pianist Tomoki Sakata and the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Yan Pascal Tortelier.

For Maestro Tortelier, the opportunity to record the Symphonie concertante was a dream come true. Studying the score for more than a year before presenting it in Japan, Tortelier became convinced that the piece is one of the most significant and impressive scores in the entire repertoire of piano concertante works. The new Chandos recording was the conductor’s opportunity to commit the music to the microphones, joined by a trio of other mid-career scores by Schmitt composed between 1929 and 1938 – all three of them world premiere recordings.

With his fine reputation for tackling technically challenging scores and lesser-known repertoire from the early twentieth century, Peter Donohoe was ideally suited to perform the piano part in a work that had been very deliberately titled “for orchestra and piano” by the composer. An impressive pianistic talent, Donohoe has amassed an enviable discography that includes masterful interpretations of works both familiar and rare.

My own introduction to Peter Donohoe’s artistry was by way of the pianist’s live performance of the Concerto for Piano, Orchestra and Male Chorus (Op. 39) by Ferruccio Busoni, presented at the Proms in London in 1988 with the BBC Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Sir Mark Elder and released on CD two years later on the EMI label. Being familiar with well more than a dozen recordings of the Busoni concerto, to this day Donohoe’s account of the piece remains my personal favorite of them all.

And beyond the Busoni, there are many equally notable recordings from this artist that are so rewarding musically – works as diverse as the complete Mozart piano sonatas and the complete solo piano music of Stravinsky.

So it was quite a thrill to learn the news that Chandos had chosen Peter Donohoe to perform the piano part in the new Schmitt/BBCPO recording. Moreover, I was fortunate to be able to attend the recording sessions held the last week of October 2025 in Manchester, during which time I had the pleasure of meeting the pianist and learning more about the trajectory of his career.

During our visit, Mr. Donohoe graciously agreed to be interviewed about his experience of becoming acquainted with Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante, leading up to making the second commercial recording of this masterpiece. Our interview took place in June 2026 and is presented below in its entirety.

PLN:  How did this opportunity to record Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante come about?

PHD:  You know, it’s rather rare that one gets to find out how a particular recording project or concert appearance comes about. On this occasion, I believe that the artistic decision to go ahead with inviting me was made between Chandos Records and Yan Pascal Tortelier. 

The maestro had performed the work before — at least once — in Japan, and he and I have worked together on many occasions over the decades, as he was for a long time the Principal Conductor of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra in my birth city of Manchester. Before getting together on this project, I played the Rachmaninov 3 on tour with him in Lithuania. We know each other’s personalities well. 

Of course, such projects are expensive; Florent Schmitt’s music is very extravagant and complex, and he often wrote for immense forces — the Symphonie concertante being a prime example. Moreover, the music is unknown to almost any orchestra.

Fortunately, due to the generosity and enthusiasm for this repertoire by yourself and your equally supportive friends, it became possible to find the necessary funds for planning the essential rehearsals and making the recording.

PLN:  Prior to this project, what had been your exposure to Florent Schmitt’s music, and your involvement with his piano repertoire?

PHD: I’m sorry to say that Florent Schmitt’s music is still relatively unknown in my home country, and I have never before heard a performance of any Schmitt orchestral works in the U.K. However, when I performed Busoni’s Piano Concerto in 1987 in Paris with L’Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France conducted by Marek Janowski, the orchestra performed Schmitt’s La Tragédie de Salomé in the second half of the concert. (Now that is an extraordinary program, I’m sure you would agree!) 

Thus, I got to know that work from that run of concerts and I also sat in on the rehearsals, as I often do, out of curiosity. I was struck by what I thought at first was the influence of my countryman Gustav Holst, via “Venus” from The Planets. But I soon discovered that the dates of composition reveal that it was Florent Schmitt who must have influenced Holst rather than the other way round! 

But there are also very strong echoes of Debussy — most notably in Salomé — from La Mer. Of course, this is not in any way a weakness, as all music reflects influences from the context of its composition, and I found that work extremely impressive in so many ways. 

In the Symphonie concertante, which I did not get to know until much later, one hears a direct influence of — almost a quote from — Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé, and to some extent the sound and rhythmic realm of Boléro. As Ravel’s works are amongst my great favorites, it is a pleasure that Florent Schmitt and I seem to have shared that enthusiasm. 

Much earlier — when I was still a student in the 1970s — I had also enjoyed encountering Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies whilst exploring the two-piano repertoire of the early twentieth century.

PLN:  When you first looked at the Symphonie concertante score, what was your initial reaction to what you saw?

PHD:  I noticed immediately that the piano part is exceptionally athletic and busy, and also that the orchestra is almost continuously so as well. In this regard, the situation in which the piano solo finds itself is very similar to that of Messiaen’s Turangalîla-Symphonie, which is a work I have performed many times, so the challenges of performance were already known to me.

PLN:  What are your thoughts about the three individual movements that make up the Symphonie concertante?  What aspects do you find particularly special or noteworthy about each of them?

PHD:  There are actually three somewhat different styles. The first movement is reminiscent of Scriabin’s middle to late works. As Scriabin is another composer of whose music I have made extensive study, the similarity of mood and harmonic style was immediately apparent to me. 

The language of the second movement is more akin to that of the pre-serialism of Schoenberg, which is, in itself, also close to some of the late works of Scriabin. 

The final movement, which is generally more tonal and is a brilliantly conceived long buildup to a stunningly exciting conclusion, reminds me again of Ravel. 

But whatever the influences, overall the piece possesses a very powerful originality, and now that I have become more familiar with the musical style of Florent Schmitt, I’m sure I would recognize it from anything he wrote.

PLN:  I understand that you had the opportunity to visit with Hüseyin Sermet, the Turkish-French pianist who made the first recording of the Symphonie concertante back in 1994.  What comments did he share with you about the piece?

PHD:  I was able to talk with Hüseyin, as we appeared together not so long ago on the same competition jury in Dubai. Jokingly, he advised that I shouldn’t attempt to perform the work from memory. (I didn’t!)

PLN:  What particular technical or interpretive challenges are there to this piece in terms of putting it together and performing it with the orchestra?

PHD:  For me, the technical factors of such a work revolve around being able to balance properly with the enormous orchestra, along with the ensemble challenges between the solo position and the woodwind, brass and percussion sections.

These difficulties are present in any piano concerto of course, but in this case it’s in a texture that’s so complex, the difficulties are magnified. 

The added dimension of this work being titled a “symphonie concertante” as opposed to a “piano concerto” suggests not only a more prominent role for the orchestra, but also a degree of autonomy over issues of tempo and interpretation on the part of the conductor rather than the soloist. (I could also note that the Brahms piano concertos have sometimes been described — quite accurately – as “symphonies for piano and orchestra,” with the same implication.)

I tend to regard most of the concerto repertoire as involving a coming together of soloist and orchestra in equal measure, directed largely by the conductor. Nearly all concertos benefit from this, although there are some concertos that are more obviously a piano solo part with an accompaniment. Those are largely lesser works, although it could be said that Chopin and Liszt wrote exceptionally great works in that vein. 

For sure one could also include Saint-Saëns, to some extent Tchaikovsky plus some others as well — but definitely not Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Rachmaninov, Ravel, Bartók or Stravinsky. Indeed, you could say that the list of wonderful concertos that become even greater with a more “chamber music” approach delivered by a great conductor and orchestra is extensive. 

In the case of the Florent Schmitt work, the difficulty of the orchestral parts is exponentially more than in most concertos — this as opposed to the piano solo part being less difficult, which it most certainly is not! However, the overall musical and technical control is far more in the conductor’s hands than is typically the case. 

In that sense, as I already mentioned, my role as solo pianist in the Schmitt reminds me most of all of Messaien’s Turangalîla Symphonie – a favorite and formative work of mine which has played a big part in my musical life ever since I first heard it performed at the London Promenade Concerts in 1970. Having played that composition throughout my professional life, I’m very familiar with the role I play in such works. 

As for interpretation, the early twentieth century is positively bursting with works in which their composers had very definite ideas for performance – in the process producing an enormous range of instructions, such that in simple terms one’s role is to do what is notated in the score as faithfully as humanly possible. 

If that seems too simplistic an approach, it’s because there are obviously many aspects to playing what the composer says — not least exploring the context in which the composer lived and wrote, plus the stamp of one’s own (often involuntary) musical personality. Some of these include the sound one naturally makes on the instrument, and the approach to rhythm and balance within the piano part. 

In truth, “interpretation” is a word I don’t use much, as it tends to function as a cover-all for distortion of the composers’ intentions, which then can become all-too-easily a generic approach to all repertoire, giving it a tendency to sound the same from whichever style the music emanates.

PLN: How did the Symphonie concertante recording sessions go? Were there any interesting anecdotes from the sessions that are worthy of sharing?

PHD:  The process of recording with an orchestra is, almost by definition, time- and money-dependent, so there is very little opportunity for levity. Every minute needs to count in order to achieve the best possible result. 

The BBCPO, inspiringly directed by Maestro Tortelier, did a fantastic job, as they always do, of pulling a rabbit out of a hat — by which I mean that an extraordinarily demanding work of almost continuous complexity – essentially unknown to the musicians on Day 1 – was successfully and convincingly recorded by the end of Day 2. 

For an amusing anecdote to emerge from that sort of high-pressure situation would be a tall order indeed! However, I do wish I had a photo or video of the faces of the orchestra members immediately after we had worked our way through the first movement for the first time, realizing the scale of the Everest that we were climbing together. A photo of the conductor and me immediately after we had finished just in time would probably best be left unseen! But the joy of what we had accomplished is something I will never forget.

PLN:  Has recording the Symphonie concertante made you interested in performing other piano music by Florent Schmitt? Which compositions interest you the most?

PHD: Yes, given the opportunity. Schmitt wrote almost endlessly complicated music — very much in the spirit of that great period around the turn of the century — so recording any of it would be a technical challenge. However, the music of that era is what I gravitated towards in the early stages of my professional career, and the challenges that it presents are quite familiar to me. It is almost like greeting an old friend. 

I don’t know what it might say about me, but in the “interpretative” issues of earlier music — the further back in the history of music one explores — more is left to the imagination and decision-making (i.e. artistic maturity). That, in a way, is even more daunting. 

I don’t feel in a position yet to pick out individual piano works by Florent Schmitt, but that time will come as performing and recording opportunities arise.

PLN:  Your career as a recording artist is particularly noteworthy in that you’ve focused both on “mainstream” composers and repertoire – examples being Schubert, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Grieg, Scriabin and Prokofiev – while also performing rarities such as the concertante repertoire of composers like Dora Pejačević and Cyril Scott.  How do you go about exploring the byways of the piano repertoire and discovering these hidden gems?

PHD:  I don’t really care whether or not music is considered “mainstream.” What matters to me, first and foremost, is respecting the music from whatever period and style it emanates, and from the point of view of performing or recording any repertoire, feeling comfortable that I have grown into the style. 

The great and famous classic piano works in the history of Western music have been endlessly recorded by a huge variety of musicians – many of them highly talented — so it would have been foolish of me or anyone else to take on the challenge of tackling that music before being sufficiently mature enough to reveal something relevant about it that isn’t a deliberately obtuse “interpretation” (or “distortion,” one could also say). 

Indeed, most pianists would regret recording one of the great classics, only to find that sales were limited to one’s own family and close friends! Beyond this, I believe that recording something too early in one’s development tends to preclude recording it again later. (I realize that there are exceptions; I myself have recorded a few works more than once — and for some reason Prokofiev’s Sixth Sonata three times!) 

Earlier in my career I held myself back to some degree from focusing on certain composers from earlier eras. But that time expired some years back, and more recently I have felt very comfortable with revealing my thoughts on the limitless wonderful music of the traditional repertoire. 

That said, the ease with which I can approach lesser-known music — particularly from the first half of the twentieth century – stays with me.

I’ve always had a thirst for discovering unfamiliar works. I’ve also always been a good sight-reader and I have a tendency to learn pieces very quickly – something one should actually fight against. There is both an upside and a downside to having those abilities, which do not need spelling out. 

In general, I don’t seek out “hidden gems,” as they are often described; they tend to find me. And of course, there is virtually no limit to the amount of unknown music, some of which turns out to be truly great. The main obstacles to exposing them are the logistical and practical elements — but then it’s always been that way.

PLN:  What major recording projects are happening for you currently, or slated for the future?  Might a recording of solo piano music by Florent Schmitt be a possibility?

PHD:  It is best not to reveal recording plans until the release of those recordings comes about. However, recording some of the solo music of Florent Schmitt would of course be a great pleasure.

PLN:  As we close, do you have additional observations to share about Florent Schmitt and his compositions that we haven’t yet discussed?

PHD:  I have often wondered why such an interesting composer should remain so little known. Sometimes it can be explained by having an unmemorable name, perhaps by being disinterested in notoriety, perhaps by having said something unfortunate at a politically sensitive time, or perhaps by having written consistently difficult music that entails extensive practice and expensive rehearsal time. 

I do not know if these apply to Florent Schmitt — perhaps they all do to some degree — adding up to his works being lesser-known or even unknown. 

In any case, it’s definitely a shame, and all the above possibilities apply to several other significant composers as well. It is long-past time to “unbury” them.

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I know I speak for many music-lovers when I state that we’re greatly looking forward to hearing Peter Donohoe’s masterful new recording of Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante upon its release by Chandos Records later this year.

In addition to the Symphonie concertante, the new release will feature three orchestral works by Schmitt that are receiving their first-ever commercial recordings — Çançunik (1929), Trois danses (1935/38) and Stèle pour le tombeau de Paul Dukas (1936/38) – making it one of the most important recordings of orchestral music by the composer to be released in recent years.

As of this writing, the planned release date for the recording is October 16, 2026, with pre-ordering available beginning on August 28th. More details will be provided as soon as the information becomes available.