Recent Reviews

Twinkle, twinkle, little Schiff.

Schiff Bach Inventions

For those who want to take the plunge into piano playing’s more tepid waters, an András Schiff disc is the ideal diving board. From Schubert to Haydn to Mozart, Schiff treats the music of all composers he plays as elevator music. His discography represents a compilation of bedtime tunes that could transport all but the most irremediable of night owls off to the sandman’s land in the time it took Dorothy to tap together her ruby slippers. 

Read the full review of András Schiff: Bach, Inventions and Sinfonias.

Exasperating. Annoying. But always Gould.

Glenn Gould WTC

In his 1955 performance of the Goldberg VariationsGould realized Bach's music on the piano in a way that has never been heard before or since. Indeed, I have yet to hear any other piano performances of this music that exhibit anything like Gould's polyphonic differentiation, relentless rhythmic energy, quicksilver speed, and lucid touch. It's just too bad that hardly any of his subsequent Bach recordings approached this pinnacle. And many, such as his 1960s traversal of the two books of The Well-Tempered Clavier, were disfigured by eccentricity and a failure—perhaps even a refusal—to communicate his ideas in a way that makes sense to the outside world.

Read the full review of Glenn Gould: Bach, Well-Tempered Clavier.

A spirited Polish Chopin showered with a little Frenchman love.

Thibaudet Chopin

Ahhhhh, the Chopin I love. Makes me think of one of those treacly classical CD covers picturing an oceanside cliff face staring into the sunset (don't forget to imagine wind whooshing sounds). Strange that all London Decca could come up with is  a gaunt Frenchman sitting on a park bench and staring at the camera with a self-satisfied grin. Pity. Luckily, though, Mr. Thibaudet is much more pleasant to listen to than look at. On the whole, his is a virile, extroverted Chopin. Which quite surprised me coming from a guy who's been known to wear lipstick, bleach his hair, and bedeck himself in Liberace-esque attire.

Read the full review of Jean-Yves Thibaudet: The Chopin I Love.

A refined gentleman who's sometimes too polite.


As with his American contemporary William Kapell, the death of Romanian pianist Dinu Lipatti as a thirtysomething was, from the perspective of his legacy, both a misfortune and a boon. For, although the death of a musician at so tender an age robs us of later entries in his discography—presumably what would be the exemplars of his age-matured style—it also attaches a certain mystique to his artistic persona. Untimely death aside, the question is whether his recordings merit the legendary status to which many aficionados have elevated them.

Read the full review of Dinu Lipatti: The EMI Recordings.      © Joseph Renouf 2012-2015