Satie reviews

The conductor Paul Sacher used to tell the story of when Honegger, rehearsing one of his symphonies, was asked by the first oboist, ‘Maître, in bar 27, should it be a B natural or a B flat?’ To which Honegger replied, ‘Which would you prefer?’ I suspect something of the same egalitarian spirit may have moved Satie to leave many of his piano pieces without dynamic markings. What should a pianist do? Noriko Ogawa chooses what might seem an honest path of adding very little of her own on this front.

We may not have recordings of Satie playing his own piano music, but we do have the next best thing: a disc of his pieces recorded in 1956 by Poulenc, who undoubtedly had heard the master perform some decades earlier. These are eloquent testimony to, among other things, Satie’s insistence on rhythmical performance, with no sloppy hesitations before ‘important’ notes. I am delighted to report that Noriko Ogawa follows this true tradition.

Raise your bowler hat. If you are to buy just one Satie disc in this year celebrating the 150th anniversary of his birth, this should be it. Eschewing the temptation to throw in a few popular favourites, such as Je te veux or La diva de l’Empire, soprano Barbara Hannigan and pianist Reinbert de Leeuw have created a recital that goes much deeper into the refined essence of the composer.

Alexei Lubimov does not do run of the mill. Whatever the repertoire, he always manages to provide a fresh perspective founded not on gimmicks, but thoughtful integrity allied to insightful playing. This new exploration of Satie and Stravinsky is no exception. The latter’s Concerto for Two Pianos (without orchestra) is not unfamiliar on disc, though it is usually chaperoned by the earlier Sonata for Two Pianos (hopefully saved for a future disc?).

Bruno Fontaine’s boldness should be applauded. There is no shortage of identikit Satie piano recitals that present an anaemic, straight-laced portrait of this most idiosyncratic of composers. At first sight, Fontaine’s new disc is no different. He obeys the legal requirement for Satie piano recitals to include the Gymnopédies and throws in the Gnossiennes as additional indemnity.

Solo pianists tend to overlook Poulenc. On a first encounter, the nonchalant, playful charm of his music can mask both the challenges and the undercurrent of often melancholic profundity. David Jalbert frames this recital with two relatively sizeable pieces. Les soirées de Nazelles, a theme and variations, each a cheeky vignette, enjoys an effervescent performance, while the Nocturnes are generally more reflective. Jalbert makes the bass end of the piano purr seductively, and there are numerous magical moments where forthright bluster effortlessly turns to sublime delicacy.

Ciccolini 1980s Satie recordings are notable for their big-boned, magisterially sculptured approach. He avoids romanticising or sentimentalising the music, and it’s stronger for it. Tim Parry

A delicious Satie collection from Aldo Ciccolini, joined by Gabriel Tacchino in the Morceaux en forme de poire and La belle exentrique. They make the music spikier, less amiable than some interpreters – to its benefit. Calum MacDonald

The Portico Quartet’s ethereal debut took everyone by surprise in the jazz world and beyond, and propelled them to last year’s Mercury Awards. While the debut’s success was from tracks that had been audience tested – by busking across Europe and initially being sold as a homemade CD – this second album is a completely studio affair.

 A peculiar mish-mash of a disc which, if nothing else, demonstrates the downside of artist-controlled labels, Shape of My Heart is a mixed bag of mainly duets and solo pieces gathered magpie-fashion from the classical repertoire (Chopin, Satie), the jazz fake book (Rodgers & Hart), the rock back catalogue (Beatles, Radiohead) and so on.