CD Recommendation: Behzod Abduraimov – 'Inferno' and the Quiet Fire at the Piano

CD Recommendation: Behzod Abduraimov – 'Inferno' and the Quiet Fire at the Piano

An Album That Tells More Than Just Notes

When I recently stood in front of the café at Plaça de Cort, a memory drifted from the Auditori of an evening when a pianist touched the audience in a way that's not easily forgotten. With his new album 'Inferno', Behzod Abduraimov has captured exactly that feeling on record: not loud showmanship, but an inner glow that only becomes apparent on close listening.

The selection of pieces on 'Inferno' reads like a walk through different climatic zones of piano music. Czerny opens and surprises: instead of a museum tone you encounter precise mechanics full of wit. Then comes Liszt's Dante Sonata, which here does not present itself as a mere firestorm but as a carefully constructed architecture of tension and release. Anyone who knows Abduraimov — and many in Mallorca still remember him from his Auditori appearance in 2022 — will recognize the same controlled urgency.

Debussy on this album feels like a clear night sky over the harbor: not a sweet idealization, but a delicate web of colors and breathing. Between these poles stand Stravinsky and Brahms, small chapters that hold the whole together. It is the art of not displaying virtuosity for its own sake, but using it as a means of expression. That is what makes the album sound distinctly different.

In Palma, when Vespas roll along the Passeig des Born and the scent of brewed coffee rises from the cafés, these are the recordings you like to put on during a quiet hour. The album suits a late evening on the balcony when the city grows quieter, or a walk along the harbor pier when the lights of the boats flicker. It is music for listeners who like to linger.

What appeals to me about Abduraimov's playing is the balance between head and heart. Technical brilliance is, of course, present, but here it serves an inner logic. The dramatic outbursts therefore feel genuine; they seem to come from a steady inner pressure, not from the desire for effects. This is a mature, self-assured approach that reminds me of concerts where you have the feeling: someone is telling their version of the music.

For Mallorca this kind of album is valuable for several reasons. First, it keeps the memory of live evenings fresh and makes you want to attend concerts at the Auditori or in smaller halls, as shown in a review of a Wagner and Bruckner concert in Manacor. Second, it brings piano music to people who might otherwise listen more to pop or chillout; in an hour at a market or a café such a recording can open doors. And third: it is an offering for the many who live and work here and want to hear something real in the evenings — not just background music.

Practical tip: If you feel like it, listen to the album during a walk through the old town — the alleys do not swallow the sound, they give it space. And if you prefer to experience the interpretation live: watch the season's concert programs closely; a pianist with this profile will surely return to Palma in the coming years, as contexts like a review of the Beethoven Ninth at the Auditorium under Pablo Mielgo show how programming and interpretation keep audiences engaged.

A small, personal image to finish: after a long Tuesday I put my headphones in my bag, walked along the seafront and noticed how some passages from 'Inferno' met me exactly where city noise and everyday worries were left behind. For me, that is the true strength of the album: it accompanies and transforms the moment without loudly proclaiming that it is something special.

Conclusion: 'Inferno' is not a plea for virtuosity at any price. It is an album that brings musical opposites together with a steady hand and a clear eye. For anyone who wants to understand piano music not as a relic but as living breath, it is a rewarding encounter — recommended for long evenings in Mallorca and any quiet pause in between.