Questions of scale always seem to hover around the music of FRANZ SCHUBERT. There is a combination of the personal and the supernatural, of the intimate and the transcendent, that, especially in the last year of his life, took on a quality no other composer has been able to conjure. There is an enormity of thought and feeling, of doubt and questioning, that seems to correspond to the smallest and largest of human ideas. For the four-hand Fantasie in F minor, two pianists sit next to one another as though it were an afternoon’s recreation and follow Schubert to… where, exactly? The word ‘fantasy’ is loosely used in music; but this music demands all the word has to offer. Every decision, however lightly made, brings consequential, even awful shifts of mood. In this genre, piano four-hands (which can seem too small even for public chamber music) brought from Schubert some- thing which seems as large as anything he, or perhaps anyone, would ever write.