Dating site on polish 2016
Szpilman, who died three years ago, was an artist of sterling pedigree, which all but guarantees his recordings won't be a redux of the David Helfgott-style compromised pianism heard in the wake of the 1996 film Shine.
No, from the first notes of both Szpilman discs, you hear poetic, Old-World rubato and that warm blanket of piano tone that's missing from the film's soundtrack performances by Janusz Olejniczak.
Performances conceived, delivered and heard during a state of crisis, or in its aftermath, can be hugely different from those that are not.
What I heard didn't change, but the film explained a few things.
Inside his sitting room there are shelves of old books, a Bieder-meier secretaire, a polished parquet floor.
Black and white photographs of old friends stand in rows on the piano; prints and framed mementoes hang from the white walls.
At first glance, everything about Wladyslaw Szpilman speaks of a certain kind of Central European comfort, of a pleasantly uneventful, bourgeois life.
Dressed in a tweed jacket and tie, speaking of popular music and songs, Szpilman himself initially gives off the air of someone who has lived all of his 87 years in civilised surroundings. The German found me when I was in the ruins of someone's kitchen, looking for food.