Let me get straight to the heart of the matter here, and sing the praises of Bertrand Chamayou’s stunning performance of Ravel’s La Valse, which is indeed the heart of this album’s shining contribution to the celebration of Ravel’s 150th birthday this year.
As Chamayou’s liner notes tell us, the pianist’s opportunity in tackling Ravel’s solo piano transcription of the orchestral original (Ravel also made a popular two-piano version) is to construct their own ideal realization of what is literally an unplayable score. Alongside the already technically demanding standard two staves of orchestral reduction, Ravel adds a third stave of coloristic details, counter melodies and flourishes, and leaves it to the performer to figure out how (or if) to incorporate them. A fiendish jigsaw puzzle!
Chamayou rises to the occasion, with spectacular effect. From the outset, he evokes a cinematic soundscape, a darkly atmospheric wash of orchestral colour that ebbs and flows throughout the 12-minute performance. Rising out of that groundwork, he overlays a kaleidoscope of melodies, nostalgic waltz fragments, sparks of rhythm and energy, so familiar from the orchestral original. And yet his virtuosity is so compelling – aided, it must be said, by over-the-top, wide-screen sonics in the Dolby Atmos mix – that we come away convinced that this is La Valse as Ravel intended us to experience it. Like a whole new Ravel piano masterpiece, newly laid out for us to discover.
Other artists have taken on the challenge of this seldom-performed piece in recent years. Just looking at streaming services, we have recordings by Aurelien Pontier and Nicholas Angelich (both on Erato, like Chamayou); Louis Lortie (Chandos); and Stephen Osborne ((Hyperion). Of these, only Osborne comes close to rivaling Chamayou. His take is powerful and driven, whereas Chamayou brings the atmosphere, colour, and emotional arc. You should listen to both!
La Valse by itself is enough to make Ravel Fragments a must-listen. But there’s a lot more on offer, all weaving around La Valse as the centerpiece, and supporting it as many facets (and fragments!) of a Ravel we haven’t heard before. Ravel reassembled in shards, reimagined through homages, transcriptions, and half-lit sketches.
The Daphnis et Chloé fragments—especially the final Scène—are another highlight. These shimmer with carefully managed pedal, gauzy textures, and a strange mix of detachment and ecstasy. Chamayou resists the temptation to sweeten them. He plays with cool sensuality, like a memory recalled rather than a scene lived.
As for Chamayou’s own transcriptions—Pièce en forme de habanera, Trois beaux oiseaux du paradis, and Chanson de la mariée—they’re elegant, modest contributions, more tributes in touch than statements of ego. They don’t dazzle; they don’t need to.
And for something completely different, make sure to listen (headphones best) to Sciarrino’s De la nuit – one of the several well-chosen hommages. Ravel, scrambled, nightmarish and spectral. See if you can catch all the references and quotations!
Further Listening
- Stephen Osborne, Ravel: The Complete Solo Piano Music (Hyperion, 2011): not just La Valse… there are many complete Ravel sets, and this one still stands the test of time.
- Bertrand Chamayou – Ravel: Complete Works for Solo Piano (Erato, 2016): Chamayou’s first dive into the Ravel corpus is an great companion to Fragments, and now also available on vinyl. The crystalline articulation in Jeux d’eau, the terror of Scarbo, the delicacy of Pavane—this is benchmark playing.
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