It’s quite the act of confidence to start off your debut recording with the Gounod/Liszt Faust Waltz. True, Jean-Baptiste Doulcet doesn’t plunge into the introductory bars with Jean-Yves Thibaudet’s decisive ferocity (Decca, 2/94). But as the piece unfolds, a more playful and whimsical devil emerges from Doulcet’s lightness of touch and spontaneous nuances. The pianist also builds Liszt’s transcription of Schumann’s ‘Frühlingsnacht’ gradually, from the first section’s understated repeated chords to the glistening virtuoso climaxes. It’s a gorgeous interpretation that brilliantly synthesises Liszt’s showmanship and Schumann’s yearning lyricism.

One can understand Doulcet’s determination to leave a personal stamp on Kreisleriana’s volatile opening movement. His tempos don’t really settle, however, nor does he consistently focus the foreground and background textures. Yet his fluid and forward-moving phrasing keeps the second piece afloat, preventing it from sounding static and sectionalised. In No 3, Doulcet’s attention to articulation yields stiff and notey results, while his simplicity and eloquence in No 4 allow Schumann’s inwardness to speak for itself. Others bring more insouciant spring to No 5’s obsessive dotted rhythms, yet Doulcet’s contrapuntal layering more than compensates. He grippingly sustains his slow tempo for No 6 and plays the whirlwind No 7 cleanly yet somewhat cautiously; I miss the precipitous sweep of Vladimir Ashkenazy’s first recording (Decca, 10/74) and Martha Argerich’s reference version (DG, 3/84). In the final movement, Doulcet sometimes underplays the syncopated bass notes, while emphasising the right-hand acciaccaturas more than most pianists do.

Doulcet’s Liszt Dante Sonata clocks in at more than 18 and a half minutes on account of his dramatic silences and carefully spaced rubatos. He shapes the relentless octave barrages into rolling orchestral paragraphs, elevating the music from a virtuoso showpiece to a veritable tone poem. Doulcet also takes his time over the Schumann/Liszt ‘Widmung’, expanding and contracting the phrases in the manner of a great singer. One might mistake the sophisticated harmonic language and haunting quiet ending of the pianist’s own Endymion for a newly discovered, slightly rambling yet nonetheless appealing addendum to Liszt’s Années de pèlerinage book 3: if you’ve encountered any of Doulcet’s superb improvisations on YouTube, you’ll know what to expect. Certainly I’ll return to Doulcet’s Liszt, while awaiting his next creative steps.