This delectable programme couples both the Ravel concertos with Debussy’s early and cruelly neglected Fantaisie. Zoltan Kocsis is already celebrated for his Debussy and throughout the performance his flashing brilliance proclaims him every inch the virtuoso. From him the Fantaisie is no mere makeweight but a scintillating web of animation and (in the central Lento e molto espressivo) voluptuous charm. Debussy’s unhappiness with this piece might well have vanished if he had heard Kocsis’s and Fischer’s verve, and never more so than in the final Allegro molto which is given with super-charged bravura.
My feelings are, however, more mixed in the Ravel works. The G major gets off to a fizzing, headlong start and the second subject is exotically inflected (this concerto was originally conceived as a Basque rhapsody). But in the cadenza Kocsis is more aggressive than affectionate, confirming his tendency towards a generalized forte brio when Ravel asks for a wealth of dynamic variety. He can take an imperious hand, too, to the central pastoral day-dream. Here, his tone often hardens into percussiveness when the music cries out for a cool, attenuated cantabile. The finale, too, for all its pace and energy, is less subtly vivacious than from Argerich or Michelangeli (the two highest flyers in this concerto).
In the Left-Hand Concerto Kocsis’s first entry is much less scorching or dramatic than from several of his rivals and the orchestra’s attempt to spice things up at 2'18'' onwards in the Allegro will seem witty or misplaced according to taste. The final cadenza unfolds with a sultry magnificence but the recording lets us down at the end when the soaring and plunging piano arpeggios, and the orchestra’s final goose-stepping gestures, are disappointingly unclear. The overall acoustic may be bold and spacious but the sound lacks optimum brilliance and readers are advised to ignore temporarily the new law regarding noisy neighbours and set their volume control high.
For both concertos played by the same pianist I would recommend Louis Lortie on Chandos (try him at the start of the slow movement which is truly espressivo and adagio assai) – his performances come with a fine-spun account of the Faure Ballade. '