Lilya Zilberstein has already taken on some of the virtuoso pillars of the repertoire for DG—Brahms's Paganini Variations (3/91), the Mussorgsky Pictures (8/94), Rachmaninov's Third Concerto—see page xx) and so it is fascinating to hear her in music of a more subtle evocation and delicacy. And although her Debussy and Ravel are hardly consistent or to the manner born, they are rarely less than individual or distinguished. Like other Russian pianists before her she places greater emphasis on the music's sensuous and expressive warmth than on its formal clarity. Her response to say, ''Le soiree dans Grenade'' (from Estampes) is richly coloured and inflected (a reminder, perhaps, of Falla's awe of Debussy's Hispanicism) and in ''Jardins sous la pluie'' her virtuosity evokes a coldly drenched and windswept garden its flowers momentarily bejewelled by passing sunlight. She is also highly successful in the more objective patterning of Pour le piano, making the opening Prelude's fortissimo chording and shooting-star glissandos resonate with unusual power. I would however, question her rubato in the central Sarabande which, added to her tempo (grave et lent, indeed), makes for some strenuous and inelegant phrasing. The Menuet from Ravel's Sonatine, too collapses under the weight of Zilberstein's attention, and the start of Jeux d 'eau is hardly tres doux as marked (a quality caught with rare finesse by Louis Lortie in his Chandos cycle). Her ''Alborada'' (Miroirs), too, is heavy going, particularly after Jean-Yves Thibaudet and most of all Lipatti. Yet even when she lacks the stylistic assurance ease and insouciance of the finest Ravelians—their I sense of a unique mix of luxuriance and economy—Zilberstein's gravity and affection bring their own rewards. The recordings are a trifle close but are often of demonstration quality.'