In the increasingly saturated recording marketplace of Philip Glass’s 20 Etudes for solo piano, two contrasting and somewhat opposing schools of thought have emerged. On the one hand, there are those pianists who faithfully adhere to Glass’s score markings, such as tempo and dynamics. Then there are those who largely ignore his directions.

There are issues with both approaches. The ‘adhere to the score at all costs’ principle sometimes results in performances that sound as dull as ditchwater, while the ‘anything goes’ attitude yields wildly extravagant interpretations, where virtuosity is placed above musicality. The lack of detail in Glass’s scores – no pedalling and very few articulation marks, for example – has only added to the confusion.

Giusto Di Lallo belongs to the former camp, stating unequivocally in his booklet notes that his intention was to present Glass’s Etudes ‘in their most authentic form’. A commendable claim, no doubt, but the Italian pianist’s follow-the-score philosophy doesn’t always deliver the most convincing results.

For example, Di Lallo takes Etude No 1 at a moderately slow tempo, close to Glass’s original recording (Orange Mountain Music, 2003), and certainly much slower than Maki Namekawa (OMM, 2/15) or Vicky Chow (Cantaloupe, 1/23), both of which clock in at a good two minutes quicker. The performance thus lacks energy and urgency, and the Etude soon runs out of steam. Then there’s the even more subjective issue of dynamics. Di Lallo’s mezzo-forte in Etude No 18 is certainly quieter than most, and much softer than Nicolas Horvath’s attack-minded, quick-fire approach (‘Glassworlds, Vol 2’ – Grand Piano, 2015). Di Lallo’s impressionistic performance works in its own way, although, like Etude No 1, it fizzles out by the time we get to the end.

In fact, some of Di Lallo’s best moments occur when he thinks outside the interpretative box. The dreamy, floating opening to Etude No 2 is taken at a slightly faster pace than Namekawa and Chow, enabling Di Lallo to build up a head of steam towards a loud and strident middle section, while the brooding opening to Etude No 16 – with its repeating 3+2+2 patterns – certainly benefits from Di Lallo’s deft touch. He makes the most of the angry outburst in the Etude’s middle section, imbuing the performance with a fiery intensity.

In truth, there is probably no such thing as an ‘authentic’ interpretation of Glass’s Etudes – other than perhaps the composer’s own (rather approximate) performances of them – and often the best performances, such as by Sally Whitwell (ABC Classics, 2018) and Máire Carroll (Delphian, A/24) manage to chart a course somewhere in between what the score says and what their musical instincts tell them. That said, and despite its somewhat uneven qualities, Di Lallo’s recording forms a welcome addition to the repertoire.