It is difficult to believe that Arrau was already in his late seventies when making these recordings. 'Spellbinding' is the first adjective that comes to mind in trying to describe them. The sustained intensity of his atmospheric evocation holds you in a trance throughout the entire two and a quarter hours.
Even listening blind, so to speak, I think you might guess the player's identity. In maturer years Arrau always favoured an unhurried tempo and a deeper, more reverberant sound-world than many of his renowned contemporaries. This, coupled with a very warm Philips recording, makes for a slightly less pellucid Debussy than we sometimes hear. But that accepted, this medium-price CD reissue never for a moment leaves you in any doubt as to his remarkable dynamic range and tonal palette, and the sheer beauty of sound he draws from his instrument at all times.
Yes, I think just one or two pieces might have benefited from sharper-cut textures and rhythms, not forgetting ''Les tierces alternees'', ''Poissons d'or'' and ''La puerta del Vino''. But such a quibble is totally outweighed by the marvels that we're given, alike in the exuberance and virtuosity of ''Les collines d'Anacapri'' and ''Ce qu'a vu le vent d'Ouest'', the shapely architectural breadth of ''La cathedrale engloutie'' and ''Hommage a Rameau'', the humour of ''La serenade interrompue'', the desolation of ''Des pas sur la neige'' and ''Feuilles mortes'', and the magical delicacy of colouring in ''Cloches a travers les feuilles'' and ''Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut'', to pick out just a few. And while making the music entirely his own, in all contexts he shows that same profound respect for the printed text in its every detailed expressive marking (and few composers were more generous with these than Debussy) that characterized his playing throughout his life.'