[Editor's Note: In the wake of the late-breaking scandal concerning the provenance of Joyce Hatto's recordings, we had the option of removing all Hatto reviews, or leaving them intact and identifying the correct artists, to the extent possible, as we learn them. We have elected the latter, both as a caution and as a way to do some justice to the real artists as we learn their identities. This Ravel Cycle appears to the work of French pianist Roger Muraro, issued on Universal France's Accord label. Please take note. As usual, we stand by our recommendation and the facts contained in the review concerning musical performance. DH]

The late Joyce Hatto recorded Ravel's complete piano works over a period of two days in May 2005, when she was 76. No allowances need to be made for age or ill health, because Hatto sounds like a stripling half her age, on prime technical and musical form. Her interpretations are unlike most I've heard, offering many singular insights and surprises. While many pianists drape Ravel's works with a uniform, generic tonal sheen, Hatto's line-oriented conceptions take each piece on its own terms. She is fastidious over details (as was Ravel) yet never misses the forest for the trees. Time and again an unusually turned phrase, unexpected accent, or seemingly strange voicing sent me running to the score, only to discover that the alleged transgressions in fact correspond to Ravel's markings. And without violating the letter, Hatto somehow always manages to leave a fresh, individual imprint upon everything she touches.

In Le Tombeau de Couperin's Prelude, Hatto navigates the spinning filigree between her left and right hands as deftly as Angela Hewitt, yet to more playful, seemingly spontaneous effect, and she casts three-dimensional light upon the Fugue without sacrificing intimacy. Her ravishing soft playing and deliciously turned embellishments in the Forlane delight as much as her effortless, flexible Toccata. Similarly, Hatto discovers polyphonic felicities in Valses nobles et sentimentales that most pianists don't know exist, making them sound utterly natural and inevitable.

Revelations also abound throughout Miroirs, particularly in the "more difficult than they sound" first three selections. True, she "stage-whispers" La Vallée des cloches' dynamics, but the music's polytextural hues gain welcome shape and profile. Gaspard de la nuit also is outstanding. In Le gibet, Hatto's bottomless palette of nuances and pedalings more than justify a slow tempo that can be deadly via less enlightened pianists. The outer movements are astutely organized, wonderfully articulated, and quite different from Pogorelich's demonic subjectivity or Argerich's impetuous bravura.

Hatto lavishes equal care and consideration over the short pieces. She enhances the Pavane's steady, dignified flow with tiny drops of rubato, while her linear specificity in Jeux d'eau creates the work anew. The little Borodin, Chabrier, and Haydn tributes also receive uncommon intensity and commitment. The controlled freedom, effortless virtuosity, prodigious color, and narrative immediacy distinguishing Cortot, Hofmann, Lhevinne, Freidman, and Moiseiwitsch at their best permeate every bar of Hatto's La Valse. The bass rumbles project plenty of mystery and danger, yet you hear notes rather than the usual mush. The faux-Viennese themes playfully swim alongside the swirling textural whirlpools as if more than one pianist and instrument are involved. In addition, the shattering impact of Hatto's booming bass chords and cannily gauged climaxes contains not one vestige of banging or forced tone. Only in rare instances (like the Sérénade grotesque) does the attractively close, detailed engineering seem overly bright and flinty. Even if you already own one or two (or even three) Ravel cycles, Joyce Hatto is too special to ignore. [1/29/2007]

--Jed Distler