Like the Mona Lisa for the Louvre, Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert is a showcase for ECM. With 4 million copies sold, it is not only the biggest success in the label's history but also the best-selling piano solo album! And many of those who bought this live recording, recorded on January 24, 1975 in the Cologne Opera House, did not yet own a jazz album in their record collection. Yet the world phenomenon had the most unfavourable conditions that evening. The American pianist was exhausted from a long car journey, had back pain and found another cheap grand piano on stage instead of the Bösendorfer he had ordered. "I think Keith played so well precisely because of this mediocre piano," said producer Manfred Eicher later. "Because he couldn't fall in love with the sound of this instrument, he adjusted his playing accordingly in order to make the best out of it in spite of everything." But what remains, beyond the anecdotes and records, of what the 1400 listeners heard that evening? Jarrett was 30 years old at the time and had already had a successful career with 15 records and two formative experiences in the bands of Charles Lloyd and especially Miles Davis. By 1975 he had already developed a very personal style of expression. Although Bill Evans' influence is unmistakable, his improvisations were unique, as this Cologne Concert proves. Lyrical and meditative elements are interwoven. Jarrett emphasizes the permeability of the genres by nourishing his jazz (is it jazz at all?) with elements from classical music, gospel, folk or certain Latin American musical styles. Notes gush out of his piano like a torrent and sing an ode to improvisation. In 1992, he told Der Spiegel that over time the Köln Concert had become a kind of film music. "We must learn to forget music," he added. "Otherwise we will become addicted to the past."

It’s almost as if Yuja Wang were playing at home in her second collaboration with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the conductor Gustavo Dudamel. The music of Rachmaninov has no secrets left for the Chinese piano virtuoso, who strolls happily along these formidably difficult concertos. It’s the “Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18”, the most iconic, that leads. Composed in 1901, at the time when Rachmaninov was just beginning to recover from the depression caused by the failure of his first symphony, this concerto became one of the centrepieces of the Russian composer’s work, when it was notoriously sampled in the legendary pop hit “All by myself”. Yuja Wang moves with alarming ease along a score rife with traps, starting with the tenth intervals that are every pianist’s worst nightmare. Wang offers a sublime variety in her playing, marvellously befitting of the very distinct moods of the three movements: raging and bold attacks in the “moderato”, languid legatos in the “adagio sostenuto”, and finishing with a triumphant and luminous “allegro scherzando”. “Concertos No. 1” and “No.4” are served with the same mastery, and the album closes with a “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini” where the orchestra proves to be of tremendous precision. An impeccable record. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

Note to Clapton lovers: here comes the Super Deluxe edition of an expanded compilation of his best tracks, played at the Royal Albert Hall, in London, in 1990 and 1991. It was released in the form of a double LP of fifteen tracks at the time. London’s prestigious concert hall hosted 32 of his Slowhand concerts, 18 of which were performed in succession - breaking his own record - and with four different groups. This new box set of 47 titles, three-quarters of which were previously unreleased, is this time divided into three parts (the first edition was divided into four parts); “Rock”, “Blues”, and “Orchestral”. At the time, Clapton had been accompanied by some high-flying musicians. On the first record, we find Phil Collins on drums for covers of Bob Marley’s I Shot The Sheriff , and Bob Dylan’s Knockin' On Heaven's Door. On the second record, we find Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, and Jimmy - on guitar. Jimmy is the older brother of Stevie Ray Vaughan, who died in a helicopter crash in August 1990. More reserved, performed with the National Philharmonic Orchestra, and conducted by Michael Kamen, the third record offers 10-minute-long scintillating and highly-charged versions of Crossroads, by Robert Johnson, and Layla. Almost six hours of enjoyable listening. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

On Ghosts, a variety of keyboards—acoustic piano, electric Fender Rhodes, synths—make up the core of Polish composer, pianist, and singer Hania Rani's sound world. It's an ambient place inflected with delicate melancholia and, occasionally, uplift. A third of the tracks are instrumentals, but rather than simply functioning as musical interludes, the voiceless pieces are an integral part of the album's flow. The hypnotic, slightly ominous instrumental "Oltre Terra" opens the album with carefully crafted pulses, pings, and drones. The piece nicely sets up the incredibly catchy "Hello," where Rani, shaded by backup vocals and jazzy keyboard, gives voice to an irresistible melody that rides rubbery electronic bass and brushed drums. "Don't Break My Heart" hints at gospel and rhythm and blues. Special guest Duncan Bellamy of the British rock band Portico Quartet provides spare and subtle percussion and loops that play off Rani's yearning voice. On "Dancing with Ghosts," Rani is joined by Patrick Watson on vocals and piano; accompanied by a panoply of electronic sounds, their voices mesmerize. The next cut, the gently propulsive "A Day in Never," employs hand percussion and rippling piano to support Rani's rhythmically insistent singing. Icelandic multi-instrumentalist Ólafur Arnalds appears on "Whispering House," where tense breathing and spare and lovely keyboard tones fill the air. The effect is spooky: a haunting of a song that is barely there at all. By contrast, "Thin Line" vibrates with psychedelic energy. Strings arranged by Viktor Orri Árnason wend their way over percolating rhythms as Rani's vocals play with a handful of notes and words. The hypnotic track has a gentle quality but in this dreamy context it qualifies as a rocker. © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz    

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Charles-Valentin Alkan, Maurice Ravel: three centuries of French music meet face-to-face to pass the baton in this record that is so admirably interpreted by the young Bruce Liu. For his first studio album Waves (Deutsche Grammophon), the Chinese pianist and winner of the 2021 Chopin Piano Competition at 24 years old, undertakes the delicate mission of constructing and presenting a vast panel of sonoric textures and approaches, unique to each composer and their time. With the valued assistance of technician Michel Brandjes, Liu has managed to erect a monument of subtlety and variations that carefully house the pieces that he interprets. As he himself explains in the liner notes: Rameau’s writing (“Gavotte et six doubles,” “Les Sauvages”) lends itself to a sound that abounds in bursts of rage and passion, contrasting with the misty impressionism of Ravel and his “Miroirs.” Somewhere between the two, “Barcarolle” and “Festin d’Esope” serve as the bridge that certain Romantics sought between baroque music and their own. Bruce Liu revels in the flexibility of his playing, which is precise and adapts to older and more recent repertoire alike. His interpretation of Ravel’s “Miroirs” is particularly admirable for its skillful use of sonoric layers and its sense of time – and, notably, of silence – and brings to mind another beautiful version - that of Pierre-Laurent Aimard, also released on Deutsche Grammophon. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

The long-awaited new album from Daniil Trifonov is finally here! It comes fully dedicated to the music of Rachmaninoff, and, more specifically, to his three cycles of variations for piano. First of all, we have the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43, a late work composed in the summer of 1934, which stands as one of Rachmaninoff’s great scores, alongside the Third Symphony, The Bells, the Liturgy of St. Chrysostom , and the Symphonic Dances. For this recording the Philadelphia Orchestra, working under the leadership of Yannick Nézet-Séguin, focus on the young Russian virtuoso with rapt attention, who then proceeds with another of the Russian composer’s great cycles, the underappreciated Variations on a Theme by Chopin , whose main theme resumes on the opening bars of the 20th Prelude of Op. 28, in C minor. Rachmaninoff designs from a highly polyphonic basis a work of rare complexity, and shape, through its harmonies. He has Chopin in mind, of course, for his lyrical side (Variations 6 and 21), but also J.S Bach (Variation 1), and Schumann – for the big Finale – whose epic touch ghosts the Symphonic Studies Op. 13. This partition, which allowed Trifonov to remove some passages, is believed by some performers to be an immense lyric poem in which notes turn literally into words (notably Jorge Bolet, and his magical phrasing, for Decca in 1986!). Others wish to unify it, like the young Trifonov himself, whose gesture is aimed primarily at a sense of fluidity. After a relatively brief, bright, tribute to Rachmaninov composed by the pianist himself, the album closes with the famous Variations on a Theme by Corelli, which is in fact the theme of "La Follia", which was used ceaselessly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, all over Europe. © Qobuz

This is the final concerto recording by the late Lars Vogt, made at his insistence despite considerable difficulties as he was undergoing cancer treatment; he conducts the Orchestre de Chambre de Paris as well as playing the solo part. It is no surprise that the album vaulted onto classical best-seller lists soon after its release in the summer of 2023, for it has a truly haunting quality. Vogt includes the most serious of the Mozart concertos, the Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor, K. 491, and this performance has all the gravity one might expect. Perhaps even more extraordinary, though, is the reading of the Piano Concerto No. 9 in E flat major, K. 271, the first of Mozart's mature concertos and one of the most expansive in structure. Sample the opening movement, where every detail in the orchestral exposition is carefully shaped and held in reserve for later exploration by the piano. It is an extraordinarily dense performance but one that never loses a sense of grace, and it is one for the ages. It is hard not to feel a sense of sadness while hearing this music, but that sadness is fully counterbalanced by joy.© James Manheim /TiVo

Lyrical rapper J. Cole runs through a multitude of high-energy styles on his fourth mixtape, the driven and fluid Might Delete Later. There's some dabbling with U.K. drill on "H.Y.B." with Bas and Central Cee, "Ready '24" chops up a Barbara Mason soul sample with all the verve of prime-era Kanye, "Stickz N Stonez" offers up a mellow boom-bap beat that Cole blasts syllables over, and other production turns play out over the course of the tape as well. Cole's bars concentrate primarily on how far ahead of everyone else in the game he is and how his skills are unapproachable. Closing cut "7 Minute Drill" (which Cole apologized for and removed from streaming platforms shortly after the mixtape's release, fulfilling the project's title) criticizes Kendrick Lamar's career after Cole felt slightly dissed by Lamar in his verse on "Like That," a track on Future and Metro Boomin's mixtape WE DON'T TRUST YOU, which was released just prior to Might Delete Later.© TiVo Staff /TiVo

One may well wonder why (or whether) a non-keyboard version of Bach's Goldberg Variations, BWV 988, arguably at the apex of the entire tradition of keyboard music, is at all needed. However, Baroque violinist Rachel Podger and Brecon Baroque member Chad Kelly, who "reimagined" the work (arranged is not a strong enough word), offer several justifications for their deployment of the Variations across various kinds of chamber music here. "Despite what many respected and respectful commentators have propagated," Kelly says, "it is not a sacrosanct work of pure, absolute and abstract art." Kelly seeks to use the varied settings to clarify Bach's counterpoint, to examine the musical influences that were in the air when Bach wrote the work, and to "be idiomatic to the historical instruments used in its performance and to the individual styles and genres referenced in the work." All this involves rewriting certain passages. That is a lot to ask, but generally, Kelly and Podger make it work. There are just 18 tracks, with several variations often combined into a little suite. This tends to deemphasize the tripartite structure of the variations, with a canon every third variation. Listeners can make up their own mind about that, but most will be impressed enough by the smooth Baroque winds in the slower variations, especially the crucial Adagio Variation 26, that they will be won over by this unorthodox effort. This release made classical best-seller charts in the autumn of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

Unfortunately no, dear reader, there is no such thing as a cycle of “24 Preludes” by Rachmaninoff; however there are indeed 24 Preludes: a collection of ten Op. 23 from 1903, 13 other Op. 32 from 1910 and one isolated Prelude from the Morceaux de fantaisie Op. 3 (Fantasy Pieces) from 1893. In total: 24 Preludes, in which as a simple count shows Rachmaninoff − much like Chopin and of course Bach − illustrated all major and minor tones. Deliberately random, or the involuntary drive to create a reasonably coherent cycle? Contrary to his two illustrious predecessors, Rachmaninoff didn’t order his Preludes according to a specific tonal plan: the musician’s fantasy develops bit by bit. Nikolai Lugansky – described by the famous magazine Gramophone as “the most innovative and transcendent interpreter of all” (so much for the others…), truly an extraordinarily deep and polyvalent pianist – decided to present the Preludes in the order prescribed by partitions, rather than reorganising them according to some hypothetical tonal logic, without knowing if Rachmaninoff would even have recommended or even considered it, particularly as the constant alternation of moods, independently of any tonal consideration, gives the piece a sense of perfect coherence. Finally it’s worth mentioning that Lugansky offers a very “original” interpretation of this divine music, which may feel like a re-discovery to some listeners. © SM/Qobuz

Pianist Nicholas Angelich, even more admired in Europe than in his native U.S., passed away tragically early in 2022 at the age of 51. One way to look at this Hommage is to note that it took quite a bit of research power, much of it apparently donated, to put together this massive seven-volume tribute, assembled from live performances and radio broadcasts between 1995 and 2019. That is a lot of Angelich, but fans here will find much that sheds new light on his genius. Consider the Brahms Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Haydn, Op. 24, which Angelich rarely played in concert. It receives a wonderfully controlled performance in which the tricky architecture of this work comes to the surface. Angelich was a fine virtuoso, and the Liszt Transcendental Etudes and the big Russian works generally have a layer of excitement added by the live performance. However, Angelich is equally effective in subtler pieces, thoughtful in the likes of Zemlinsky and the Bach Goldberg Variations, BWV 988, where the sequence of events feels somewhat different from in the pianist's 2011 studio recording even as the über-Romantic slow tempos are retained. His opening aria is even slower than on the studio version. The mastering of these immensely diverse sound sources from Erato is as good as such a thing can be, and physical album buyers get some fine reflections on the pianist's work. This is, in short, an effective tribute to a pianist whose life and work were brutally cut short.© James Manheim /TiVo

The late Beethoven recordings of pianist Mitsuko Uchida have been career makers, and it is cause for celebration that she has capped them with the 33 Variations on a Waltz by Diabelli, Op. 120, a work that perhaps poses deeper interpretive challenges than any of the late sonatas. The Variations often show a kind of rough humor, and a performer may pick up on that, or the player may deemphasize the humor and seek out the epic qualities of the Piano Sonata No. 30 in E major, Op. 109, and Piano Sonata No. 32 in C minor, Op. 111. Uchida does neither. The outlines of her usual style, high-contrast and a bit dry, are apparent, but she does not let them dominate her reading. What Uchida realizes is that the abrupt transition from humor to the deepest existential ruminations is part and parcel of Beethoven's late style, and she works to hone the particular character of each Beethoven variation. Her left hand, as usual, is strikingly powerful, and this brings out many striking details (consider the stirring variation 16). The trio of slow minor variations toward the end are given great seriousness but are not in the least overwrought; Uchida achieves an elusive Olympian tone through the final variations. There is much more to experience here, for each variation is fully thought out, but suffice it to say that this is one of the great performances of the Diabelli Variations.© TiVo

Paavo Järvi's recording of the Fauré Requiem is notable for its balance of a sumptuous orchestral and choral sound with a chaste and dignified interpretation of the score. The strings of Orchestre de Paris in particular sound gorgeous, and Choeur de l'Orchestre de Paris sings with marvelous dynamic variety; in the opening movement, the chorus seems to emerge gradually out of near-silence, yet the group can produce a terrifyingly large sound in the Libera me. Counter tenor Philippe Jaroussky and baritone Matthias Goerne are outstanding in the solo movements, investing the meditative music with deep feeling. The Pie Jesu is sometimes sung by a woman and sometimes by a boy soprano, and Jaroussky's performance has some elements of both: the purity of a boy's voice but with the musical maturity of an adult singer. The album is generously filled out with four other choral or orchestral pieces. The lovely Cantique de Jean Racine and Pavane for orchestra and mixed choir are frequently paired with the Requiem. Elégie for cello and orchestra, premiered by Pablo Casals, and played with elegance here by Eric Picard, fits beautifully with the contemplative tone of the album. Super flumina Babylonis for mixed choir and orchestra is a student work, recorded here for the first time. It's more overtly emotional than the other repertoire on the album, as is appropriate for the text, and may lack the subtlety of the later pieces, but it's an attractive, skillfully crafted work that stands on its own merits and deserves broader exposure. The sound of the live recording is exceptionally warm and resonant, yet still detailed.© TiVo

For this new recording made immediately after the lockdown period, American violinist Hilary Hahn offers up a truly original programme—just how she likes it. One surprise is the inclusion of Alberto Ginastera’s (1916-1983) Violin Concerto, Op. 30. Despite being a major Argentine composer during the twentieth-century, Ginastera’s work has been sorely under-promoted. His flamboyant, personal masterpieces are written for orchestra, piano and even the stage (e.g. Bomarzo).Ginastera intially stands out for his ‘sublimation’ of traditional South American heritage. In every corner of his writing, he incorporates Argentinean dance rhythms, with their very specific metres (tango, milonga, gato, etc.), and applies them to an inventive and uniquely personal orchestration. The Argentinean’s orchestra was an instant hit, and it has maintained its powerful sonic singularity ever since. In the early 1960s, Ginastera’s style would become more radical as he increasingly incorporated serialist elements. The Violin Concerto dates back to this period (1963), by which time his musical language had become more sophisticated. It is surprising to note that his major concertante works (the First Piano Concerto and First Cello Concerto) were written during the 1960s: a period of intense experimentation.In its three free-form movements, the Violin Concerto remains a challenging work both for the soloist and the orchestra. It begins with a large cadenza for the soloist and follows with a series of six ‘studii’, which each focus upon particular facets of violin playing (chords, thirds, etc.)—as if Chopin or Paganini had released their material a century later but had fleshed them out with similarly rich and colourful orchestral textures. The second movement - an Adagio per 22 solisti, fairly typical of Ginastera’s writing for solo strings - brings about a lull within the overall structure, before we enter a two-part Scherzo. This final movement ends with a Perpetuum mobile: an extremely virtuosic moment, the agitated and hallucinating tone of which is aptly inhabited by Hilary Hahn. A brilliant moment on the record.It is surprising then to hear Sarasate’s Fantasia-Carmen - a truly disturbing contrast, but one which brings us back to a more radiant 19th century. This period is equally celebrated through the incorporation of Antonín Dvořák's Violin Concerto, which is now being performed more and more often by 21st century violinists. In the Dvořák, Hahn and Orozco-Estrada are more sensitive to the work’s flowing form than to its pastoral or lyrical character.An absolutely fascinating album, in any case. Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz