Domenico Scarlatti stands in relation to his great Baroque era contemporaries Bach and Handel much as Chopin did to peers of early Romanticism such as Mendelssohn, Schumann and Liszt. The latter three contributed significantly to their century’s piano literature but also worked extensively in symphonic and choral genres. With few exceptions, Chopin’s output concentrates on solo piano work in smaller forms. Similarly, large-scale cantatas, oratorios, operas, suites and variation sets define the essence of Bach and Handel. By contrast, Scarlatti’s reputation largely rests upon his keyboard sonatas, all cast in single movements that take an average of three to eight minutes to play (depending, of course, on one’s choice of tempo and whether or not repeats are observed). Yet within these parameters lie some of the most inventive, emotionally wide-ranging and technically ingenious keyboard music in existence.

Small wonder that pianists claim equal rights to Scarlatti alongside harpsichordists, while the catalogue bursts at the seams with classic all-Scarlatti albums dating from the shellac era (Robert Casadesus, Kathleen Long, Vladimir Horowitz) to modern-day points of reference (Anne Queffélec, Yevgeny Sudbin, Maria Tipo, Mikhail Pletnev, Alexandre Tharaud, Angela Hewitt, Lucas Debargue). In the late 1990s Carlo Grante embarked on what was planned to be a truly comprehensive Scarlatti sonata cycle for the Dante label: 120 sonatas were released on seven CDs before the label folded and the project was curtailed. In 2009, however, Grante began anew, from scratch, this time for Music & Arts. I praised the initial multi-CD volume in these pages, expressing my hopes that Grante and his label would see the project through to completion. Nine years later, the sixth and final Scarlatti volume appears, and Grante becomes the first pianist in history to have recorded Scarlatti’s complete keyboard sonatas.

Grante’s characteristically thorough annotations point out that the actual number of Scarlatti sonatas extant far exceeds the 555 items identified in Ralph Kirkpatrick’s standard-setting catalogue. He has sequentially organised his cycle according to manuscript collections largely identified by the city libraries in which they can be found. The great majority of sonatas are sourced from 15 volumes in Parma followed by 13 volumes housed in Venice and two volumes located in Venice’s ‘Marciana’. Miscellaneous sources provide the remaining works. In cases of duplication between sources, Grante gives Parma priority in his numbering. To facilitate identification, Grante includes the Kirkpatrick numbers in his table of contents. For example, ‘P15-10 (Kk523)’ refers to the 10th sonata in the 15th Parma volume and its corresponding position in the Kirkpatrick catalogue. As in previous volumes, Grante offers musically and historically detailed descriptions of the sonatas. He cites earlier Scarlatti scholars when appropriate to do so, and succinctly addresses matters of style, genre, mood and interpretation.

More significantly, Grante articulates his scholarly erudition and sound instincts through his exceptional music-making. Reviewing Vol 2 for Gramophone (6/11^US), I wondered if Grante’s use of a vintage Bösendorfer Concert Grand from the collection of Eva and Paul Badura-Skoda at least partially factored into his performances’ wide range of agogic stresses, articulations and embellishments, as well as the palpable textural diversity and sense of registral differentiation.

Yet no instrument truly plays itself, so to speak, and Grante posseses the ability to imbue each and every selection with a character all its own, drawing attention to his superlative pianism through the music first and foremost. The wittily pointed and timed articulation in the two C major sonatas opening disc 1 (Kk514 and 515) bears this out. Many pianists treat the F minor Kk519 like a bouncy étude. By contrast, Grante’s slower tempo anchors the repeated-note accompaniments and allows the counterpoint to breathe. Every linear entrance in the lively F major Kk525 takes on a fresh hue, as do the felicitous harmonic surprises in the B flat Kk544. Grante rolls the D major Kk534’s gentle chords as if strumming a lute, while revealing painstaking consistency in how he shapes the C major Kk549’s imitative writing, not to mention the beautifully calibrated dynamic gradations in the chromatically tinged C minor Fuga, Kk58.

Grante’s faster than usual approach to the tricky A minor Kk36 suffuses the music with an angular, almost abrasive intensity that makes most other performances sound uneventful. Conversely, the F sharp minor Kk67’s muted deliberation and predominant legato convey a totally different complexion when heard alongside the upbeat extroversion of Naxos’s Evgeny Zarafiants or Tacet’s Christoph Ullrich. While Grante doesn’t quite match Vladimir Horowitz’s vehemence in the D major Kk33, he lacks nothing in heel-clicking rhythmic verve. And if there’s a more heartfelt, eloquently spun-out reading of what must be the slowest and easiest of all Scarlatti’s sonatas (the single-page D minor Kk32 Aria), I haven’t heard it.

Naturally piano mavens will not want to displace their favourite Scarlatti performances, yet Grante’s comprehensive scope and consistently high level of accomplishment throughout this series deserve the highest praise. Whether or not Music & Arts will eventually bundle the cycle in a large box-set, the fact is that all six volumes of this discographic and artistic milestone are physically and digitally available in the here and now.