Moment by moment, individual phrase by phrase, Cho plays intelligently and shapes every line with elegance and care. But most of the time it feels like he’s describing the music from a distance rather than digging in and feeling it. Take the Pavane pour une infante défunte, a piece we love for its melancholic grace. Cho’s take is tender, almost a lullaby, the melody picked out with charming delicacy. But where’s the sense of an ancient, departed world, the weight of the “dead infanta”?
There are so many complete sets of Ravel piano, and plenty more in the works for this 150th anniversary year, I’m sure. To get a sense of what each artist brings to bear, I like to focus on Gaspard de la nuit. For example, the first movement Ondine must bring forth the seductive but deadly water nymph, evoking a mysterious, ethereal, yet subtly menacing atmosphere. It’s not enough to just spin out the repeated right-hand chords and arpeggios of the opening with effortless fluidity, you need to build an undercurrent of menace that builds by fits and starts to a big climax of fatal inevitability. To be honest, Cho’s approach made me think of a Czerny etude.
And now, listen to what Angela Hewitt does with Ondine (and all of Gaspard) on her 2002 Ravel set for Hyperion. It’s a much more compelling and exciting performance in every way. There’s no lack of technique and brilliance, but where Cho gave us cooly polished gloss, Hewitt evokes the erotic unease of the tale, full of atmosphere and chilling emotions. To torture the mataphor, she lights up the screen in technicolor.
For an even starker comparison, have a listen to Cho and Martha Argerich, back-to-back, in the final movement Scarbo. Cho’s version is technically thrilling in its way, but that’s weak tea alongside the ferocious power and a theatrical intensity that Argerich brings to her demonic Scarbo!
Even the more “classical” pieces, like the Sonatine or “Menuet sur le nom d’Haydn,” which might benefit from Cho’s control and refinement, come off as overly decorous and tidy. The sonorities are pearly, but the overall effect is veiled and often muted. In “Jeux d’eau,” for instance, the streams and splashes never quite ripple. The water feels trapped in a glass.
All that said, Cho is an elegant and accomplished pianist, and for some tastes this will be just what you want in Ravel, particularly in its more introspective moments. But for those of us who seek the wildness, the evanescence, the narrative essence within Ravel’s piano landscape, we must look elsewhere.
Check out Cho’s performance of La vallée des cloches, the final movement of the Ravel’s Miroirs, for another pleasant taste.
Further Listening
- Angela Hewitt, Ravel: The Complete Solo Piano Music (Hyperion, 2002): the best of all modern era sets… fine sound, and the performances get to the heart of Ravel without spilling over into excess. Always my go-to.
- Samson François, Ravel: Complete Piano & Orchestral Works (Erato, 1960-1967, reissued 2018): This was the touchstone for Ravel piano recordings in the 1960s and long after. To be sure, François is of another era in piano history, but well worth a close listen today. This box includes both 1960 and 1967 takes of most of the solo piano repertoire, plus the concertos with André Cluytens conducting. Listen to the 1960 versions first!
| Where to Buy | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Amazon | Apple Music | Presto | Qobuz |
| Streaming | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Amazon Music | Apple Music | Presto | Qobuz |