A complete survey of Ravel’s piano music is an especially challenging prospect for any pianist. It is not merely that this sublime music frequently demands exceptional, post-Lisztian virtuosity. Beyond such dexterity is the fact that, as Steven Osborne observes in this recording’s booklet, the composer’s fear of repeating himself ensure that the lessons from one work can rarely be transferred to the next. This is not merely the aesthetic change from the nightmarish imagery of Gaspard de la nuit to the elegant neo-classicism of Le tombeau de Couperin. Ravel essentially re-imagined how to write for the piano with each significant work. Osborne is more than up to the task. The contrasting fireworks of the ‘Toccata’ from Le tombeau and ‘Alborada del gracioso’ (Miroirs) are despatched with relish, the piano exploding with power in the latter after a disarmingly impish opening. The Sonatine has a refined insouciance, while the love bestowed upon each note is clear. Then there are the numerous moments of sustained control, such as the shimmering opening pages of Gaspard. Sometimes changes of spirit occur effortlessly within a piece. Having been a model of clarity in the ‘Prelude’ from Le tombeau, Osborne treats the codetta not as a brisk flourish, but as if this particular vision of the 18th century is dissolving beneath his fingers.
Howard Shelley continues to overturn the conventional wisdom about Mendelssohn’s unjustly neglected piano music, again demonstrating convincingly its claims on our attention.
Playing Falla in date order makes an odd-shaped recital: the tail is at the front. But it gives a graphic portrait of an explorer. The Spanish presence steadily insinuates itself until it grows fiercely concentrated, finally almost aphoristic. Baselga, an individual pianist in this very personal music, plays the Piezas españolas intensely, with plenty of staccato and a free pulse, scorning easy charm to find strength. In the stupendous Fantasía bética he lets the rhythms take hold gradually and locates the full gypsy-like restlessness of the ultra-ornamented melody at the centre. His ear for balance and virtuoso control of pace are compelling, but short of the ultimate physical exultation. Around these peaks he browses rewardingly, with more warmth and more pedal for the early pieces, relieving the often dry piano tone. It’s the mature and late works that awaken his interest most, and these include the quirkiest of them. Imagine the ‘Song of the Volga Boatmen’ in the style of Pictures at an Exhibition and you’re halfway there: an improbable political commission that Falla met at full power.
Pianist Daniel Ericourt (1903-88) boasted an impressive artistic resume, including working relationships with Isadora Duncan, Nadia Boulanger, Aaron Copland (Ericourt premiered his Passacaglia), and Georges Enescu. In his teens Ericourt got to know Claude Debussy and his family, collaborated with the composer in a benefit concert, and turned pages at the premiere of his Cello Sonata. Following decades of international touring, Ericourt joined the Peabody Conservatory faculty and later became Artist-in Residence at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. In the early 1960s Ericourt recorded the complete cycle of Debussy's solo piano works for the Kapp label, and despite generally excellent reviews they shortly disappeared from the catalog. The collection now appears on CD for the first time–and merits serious consideration.
Jean-Yves Thibaudet has undertaken the complete solo piano works of another late nineteenth/early twentieth century French composer: Erik Satie. This even includes a sample of Vexations, that theme and two variations that Satie instructs to be played slowly, 840 times. It's interesting to compare Thibaudet's interpretations of these works with those of Aldo Ciccolini, who was one of Thibaudet's teachers. Overall, Thibaudet gives a less-Romantic interpretation, with less overt emotion and more introverted abstraction, but it is not overly academic.
John Corigliano's music has been commissioned, performed, and recorded by some of the most prominent orchestras, soloists, and chamber musicians in the world. He is the recipient of a Pulitzer Prize, five GRAMMY Awards, the Grawemeyer Award for Music Composition, and an Oscar. The Piano Concerto ranges in expression between lyricism and atonality and is extremely virtuosic and theatrical, while the competition piece Fantasia on an Ostinato investigates the performer's imagination and musicality through minimalist techniques. The devilish discipline of etude Fantasy contrasts with the improvisatory origins of Winging It, while Prelude for Paul echoes the soul of Rachmaninov.
With his idiomatic and graceful style, pianist Philip Martin has established himself as the foremost exponent of Gottschalk. Much of his music is by no means easy to play; it requires an impeccable technique matched with Èlan and joie de vivre for its most effective execution. Although not essentially a great composer, Louis Moreau Gottschalk had a unique spontaneity and individuality which Martins performances bring vividly to the fore. The composers music was hugely popular during his lifetime and his works display a real melodic charm and a great sense of fun. Each of the eight discs in Martins extensive Gottschalk series has received wide acclaim and left pianophiles eagerly awaiting the next issue.