It is hard to figure out what pianist Emmanuel Despax had in mind for the concept of this album. Its various titles offer three ideas: Après un rêve comes from the title of a Fauré song Despax transcribes for his program opener, plus there is "Belle Époque: Nights at the Piano." None of these is of much use; few pieces other than the Fauré are particularly dreamy, and the largest piece, Poulenc's Soirées de Nazelles, is from the nervous 1930s and nowhere near the Belle Époque in time or mood. As for "Nights at the Piano," that fits the Poulenc nicely but not the concluding Gaspard de la Nuit of Ravel, which is an imposing virtuoso concert work carrying none of the connotations of "Nights at the Piano." Really, Despax excels in none of these three ways but rather in a fourth: he hits on an intriguing mix of familiar standards and unusual works. Among the latter group are the Soirées de Nazelles, which Poulenc disclaimed and, perhaps for that reason, have been seldom heard. They are delightful pieces that bear titles describing qualities, like the numbers of a Baroque French suite, but actually seem to have been devised by Poulenc to describe members of a group of his friends, like Elgar's Enigma Variations. The result is a work that distills the hint of improvisation that pervades some of Poulenc's keyboard music and songs, and Despax gives it the right lively, spontaneous feel. The Nocturne, Op. 165, of Cécile Chaminade and the keyboard version of Henri Duparc's Aux étoiles are also nice finds. As for the more heavily trodden works, Debussy's Clair de lune is pleasantly moody, although no one would select this album for the rote Gaspard de la Nuit or the rather un-macabre Danse Macabre, Op. 40, of Saint-Saëns. For Poulenc lovers, however, this is an important find. © James Manheim /TiVo

Conceived in the spring of 2020, "Debussy in Resonance" wishes to offer a space to nourish the wonder and the sensory imagination of Nature while questioning the place of humans within it. Faced with the fast extinction of species, the scarcity of water sources and the palpable uneasiness in modern societies, Joanna Goodale feels the desire to cultivate this feeling of belonging to Nature, inspiring gratitude, joy and the desire to take care of the living. By listening to the ecosystem, by observing its elements and its cycles, a source of wisdom rich in metaphors resonates deep within her. © Paraty

Download not available

For any art rock band, the fourth album means it's time for a self-styled masterpiece -- if you need proof, look at Selling England by the Pound or Fragile. So, with Kansas, the most determinedly arty of all American art rock bands, they composed and recorded Leftoverture, an impenetrable conundrum of significance that's capped off by nothing less than a five-part suite, appropriately titled "Magnum Opus," and featuring such promising movement titles as "Father Padilla Meets the Perfect Gnat" and "Release the Beavers." Of course, there's no telling whether this closing opus relates to the opener, "Carry On Wayward Son," the greatest single Kansas ever cut -- a song that manages to be pompous, powerful, ridiculous, and catchy all at once. That they never manage to rival it anywhere on this record is as much a testament to their crippling ambition as their lack of skills. And it's unfair to say Kansas are unskilled, since they are certainly instrumentally proficient and they can craft songs or, rather, compositions that appear rather ambitious. Except these compositions aren't particularly complex, rhythmically or harmonically, and are in their own way as ambling as boogie rock, which still feels to be their foundation. It's not really fair to attack Kansas for a concept album with an impenetrable concept -- it's possible to listen to Lamb Lies Down on Broadway hundreds of times and not know what the hell Rael is up to -- but there's neither hooks nor true grandiosity here to make it interesting. That said, this still may be Kansas' most consistent set, outside of Point of Know Return. Take that for what you will.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Since the pianist's early days, the South Korean Seong-Jin Cho (1994) has professed a fondness for French music in general and Debussy in particular. At his first public performance at the age of eleven, he played Children’s Corner by Debussy. When he decided, in 2012, to pursue his musical education abroad, he chose Paris, and the Conservatoire National Supérieur, where he frequented the classes of Michel Béroff, the undisputed expert on Debussy. Cho has come back to work again with his old teacher, who became a friend, with the aim of creating his own Debussy album; the choice of works here is "restricted" to works requiring a middling level of virtuosity - mechanical exhibition isn't his thing, even though he has amply mastered his instrument - but whose poetical content allows the pianist to show off his own exquisite expertise as a musician. An homage to his own childhood, Children’s Corner, but also the two books of Images and the exquisite Suite bergamasque. Let’s not forget that Seong-Jin Cho won Warsaw's 2015 Chopin Prize, a sure-fire ticket to an international career. © SM/Qobuz

After making some noise with their debut album, Eyelid Movies, which straddled the line between trip-hop and shoegaze with the skill of an acrobat, Phantogram have refined and expanded their sound in really interesting ways. The duo of Sarah Barthel and Josh Carter have added R&B influences and hip-hop swagger to the mix, refined their songwriting skills, and in Barthel's case, become a very powerful vocal presence. Their second album, 2014's Voices, shows how far they have come and, despite some minor flaws, ends up being a really solid and deep modern pop album that sounds perfectly crafted and infused with real emotions. It's easy to see why their music has blown up over the time between albums: the arrangements are huge and accessible, with every bit of space filled with interesting synth sounds, drum programs, and guitars that create a richly enveloping atmosphere. Their use of samples is deft as they dig deep into the work of South Korean psychedelic guitarist Shin Joong Hyun, the Chi-Lites (with excellent use of "Coldest Day of My Life" on the beautiful ballad "Bill Murray"), and rare soul grooves that provide some off-kilter mystery and grit to their dreamy approach. Rising out of the background like a massive wave of warmth and giving the album an emotional center are Barthel's impressive vocals. She can belt it out like she's trying to reach the back rows of an arena (like on the rumbling new wave-inspired "Nothing But Trouble" and the Rihanna-produced-by-Tricky jammer "Fall in Love") or she can slink around in the mix with some real subtlety (on the murky, moody "Black Out Days"), but no matter the size or mood, she totally nails every song. On the other hand, the handful of songs Josh Carter sings are somewhat disappointing. It's not that he's an awful singer or that the songs themselves are weak -- in fact, "I Don't Blame You" has one of the strongest melodies and arrangements on the record. The problem is that having him sing instead of Barthel is like putting Lebron James on the bench in favor of a benchwarming scrub from West Kentucky State. Sure, the scrub may be good enough to make the NBA, but you have to have Lebron in there if you want to win the game. That being said, the Carter-sung interludes don't do much to bring down the overall strength of the album. It's filled with catchy, emotion-packed songs that will sound great booming out of radio speakers, soundtracking late nights spent alone and wondering, and anytime some really powerful modern pop is needed.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Praised for his meticulous fidelity to the composer's intentions, as well as for his rich tonal palette and the warmth of his expressions, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has won many admirers for his five albums of the complete solo piano music of Claude Debussy. These recordings were produced by Chandos between 2007 and 2009, and they have now been gathered into a handsome box set; each disc is presented with its own cardboard sleeve and the original liner notes that accompanied each release. The roster of artists who have recorded Debussy's keyboard music is a long and distinguished one, though Bavouzet is easily ranked in the upper echelons, equal in stature among such luminaries as Jean-Yves Thibaudet, Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, Krystian Zimerman, Maurizio Pollini, Angela Hewitt, Pierre-Laurent Aimard, and Pascal Rogé. Experienced listeners will already have favorite recordings of the Préludes, Images, Estampes, and Études, as well as the perennially popular Suite bergamasque, Children's Corner, and other picturesque pieces. However, many will be won over by the consistency of Bavouzet's playing, and newcomers will find that his disciplined yet gorgeous readings are a great way to begin appreciating these charming classics. Chandos provides excellent sound that gives the piano a clear presence yet takes nothing away from Bavouzet's atmospheric colors or the radiant acoustics. Highly recommended.© TiVo

After recently terminating his career as a pianist, Ilja Hurník has gained more scope for devoting to composing and writing. Hurník studied the piano with pedagogues of such renown as V. Kurz, I. Štěpánová-Kurzová and V. Novák and has given numerous concerts abroad (including a four-hand performance with Pavel Štěpán), with his interpretations of Debussy and Janáček being particularly captivating. He has given back to Janáček the earthiness and crispness resulting from the Lachian dialect and purged Debussy of the "Impressionistic mist" and accumulated layers of brush strokes, turning the audience's attention to the compositions' subtle drawing and structure. When listening to the presented recordings, one will be hard pressed indeed to believe that they were made a full half-century ago. Hurník's ninetieth birthday is an appropriate opportunity to recall them: this reissue in a carefully remastered version will certainly be welcomed not only by his contemporaries. © Supraphon

The Vienna Stories title of this release by harpist Anneleen Lenaerts is more personal than thematic. Only some of the pieces are from or about Vienna (although the inclusion of An der schönen blauen Donau, Op. 314 ("The Blue Danube Waltz") qualifies the collection as Viennese in the end. Lenaerts is the principal harpist of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, where she has become an emerging star of her instrument. At the end of the program, she brings in some of her Philharmonic colleagues as a small string group. This is entirely in keeping with the spirit of the program, which evokes unusually nicely the atmosphere of a salon harp concert of a century or more ago. Most of the pieces are transcriptions of various ages, and Lenaerts contributes a Fantasy on La Bohème by Puccini of her own; it is indeed good to hear a new entry in the operatic paraphrase genre, which any 19th century listener would have taken as natural, but which is mighty rare these days. Listen to the 1914 harp version of Smetana's The Moldau by Hans Trneček, where Lenaerts' clean, liquid runs help establish her as a major player of her instrument. There's an X-factor here in the frequent presence of the harp's lyrical charm, of which any viewer of The Marx Brothers' films is aware but which is sometimes lost in the sheer technical difficulties of the instrument. The sound environment of the Casino Baumgarten in Vienna is appropriate, but Lenaerts is miked too closely, picking up extraneous noise that would have been inaudible to hearers of such a program in 1914. Save for that, a lovely harp recital.© TiVo