(++++) IN COMPLETION

Ravel: Complete Works for Solo Piano. Hsiang Tu, piano. Da Vinci Classics. $28 (2 CDs). 

     When it comes to Ravel’s solo-piano music, the word “complete” is somewhat, shall we say, imprecise. And that leads to some interesting labeling and packaging discrepancies. Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, for example, presents a “complete” set of 15 works on two discs, while Vincent Larderet has to date recorded 13 pieces on two discs and has two more releases in planning stages, so his “complete” Ravel edition requires four CDs. Hsiang Tu’s new recording for Da Vinci Classics has its own definition of “complete,” including 14 pieces in all – omitting the Bavouzet release’s La Valse, which originated as an orchestral work but which Ravel subsequently arranged for solo piano (and also, for that matter, for two pianos). Whether or not La Valse belongs in a “complete” solo-piano release therefore depends on one’s definition of “complete.” It is certainly music for solo piano, but it is an arrangement for the instrument rather than a work originally written for keyboard – so the issue of whether or not to include it in a “complete” release is arguable either way. The same applies to other repertoire discrepancies to be found among these and other pianists’ offerings. 

     The good news: it seems that everyone who decides to record a “complete” (however defined) set of Ravel solo-piano works has a strong commitment to the material and is highly skilled at presenting it – with enough individuality of approach to make each of the various “complete” recordings very worthwhile in its own way. That is certainly the case with Tu’s, which contains Gaspard de la Nuit; Sonatine; Pavane pour une infante défunte; Valses nobles et sentimentales; Miroirs; Jeux d’eau; Le Tombeau de Couperin; Menuet en ut dièse mineur; Sérénade grotesque; Menuet antique; Menuet sur le nom de Haydn; Prélude; À la manière de…Alexander Borodin: Valse; and À la manière de…Emmanuel Chabrier: Paraphrase sur un air de Gounod. 

     Tu presents all the music with a fine blend of sensitivity and skill, and is especially effective in differentiating among the elements of the multi-movement works. Thus, in Le Tombeau de Couperin, delicacy dominates the opening Prélude, which is followed by a particularly statuesque Fugue. The gently rocking Forlane is a bit on the quick side, while the Rigaudon is emphatic and interpretatively personalized through rubato that creates something of a stop-and-start feeling that may not be to all tastes. The Menuet has sweetness as a primary characteristic, and the concluding Toccata is very peppy indeed. The overall impression is of a set of miniatures that exist independently of each other but within a carefully contrived and managed sound world – a conceptualization that is pervasive in Tu’s recording. Miroirs is another clear example of his approach. Noctuelles is delicate and particularly well-phrased, while in Oiseaux tristes Tu emphasizes slow individual notes, not just overall phrases, and his pedaling is particularly careful and well-controlled. Une barque sur l’océan comes across as a dream scene here, rather than any impression of the real world. The jaunty Alborado del gracioso has lots of character, with the elaborate hand crossings and finger entanglements tossed off with apparent ease. And in La Vallée des cloches, Tu makes sure that the sound of bells is very clearly delineated and pervasive. 

     Although Tu’s interpretative care and commitment are clear everywhere – including in the individual short pieces, which he presents as fully formed miniature worlds of their own – his emphases and performance choices will not necessarily be equally favored by all listeners. This is especially noteworthy when it comes to Gaspard de la nuit. Here the opening Ondine is a watery scene painted with eloquence, with a focus that seems to be more on the aquatic setting itself than on the titular character’s place within this world. Le Gibet is carefully paced and balanced, and certainly atmospheric, but it is not as emotive and eerie as it can be: Tu takes care not to overdo the spookiness to the point of grotesquerie, but in so doing renders the presentation a bit coolly. As for Scarbo, it is very intense, its famously fiendish difficulties tossed off with aplomb. But it is a bit over-pedaled, resulting in some blurring of the lines that, although atmospheric, produces less of a sense of a scampering, demonic creature than some other pianists proffer. To be sure, these are quibbles: matters of detail and most definitely matters of opinion. They do not change the reality that everything Tu does is carefully managed, well thought out and convincing on its own terms. One of the advantages of having multiple first-rate versions of Ravel’s solo-piano music available – a state of affairs largely tied to 2025 having been the 150^th anniversary of the composer’s birth – is that listeners will surely be able to find at least one interpreter’s approach compatible with their own thoughts about and enjoyment of this music. Certainly Tu’s recording, incorporating his particular definition of “complete,” is one whose conviction and eloquence guarantee that it will have widespread appeal.