A word of explanation. The normal format for head notes on this 
                site is an opus number, key, and date of composition. But this 
                is not such a disc and EMI itself studiously refrains from going 
                into such detail - and that’s because Gabriela Montero is that 
                most rare of things, a genuine classical improviser. She has her 
                own website and you can set her a suitable challenge and, if you’re 
                lucky, she might improvise on your selected piece. 
              
That’s what she 
                    does here. The theme obviously, as the album’s title indicates, 
                    is a self-contained one. And so Montero set forth in No1 Studio, 
                    Abbey Road, London, in June and July 2007 to compose newly 
                    minted, unique takes on a succession of popular baroque favourites.
                  
I know she admires Bill Evans. So perhaps 
                    one way of approaching what she does is to bear in mind the 
                    limpid, interior and refined expression of which Evans was 
                    a master. But there’s also a brazen rhythmically volatile 
                    Venezuelan heart beating in Montero’s chest cavity, so one 
                    should also be aware of the Jelly Roll Morton in her soul. 
                    Morton took classical themes, of course, and ragged them, 
                    jazzed them, syncopated them and brought them to rude Sportin’ 
                    House life. What Montero does is rather different though there 
                    are analogies.
                  
She opens with 
                    the jaunty Canarios but soon encounters Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, 
                    all four of whish she essays throughout the fifty or so minutes 
                    of her recital – Summer and Winter are tagged together and 
                    last two minutes! Her Pachelbel has mid nineteenth century 
                    romantic affiliations whilst the Handel Sarabande builds to 
                    a big, sonorous climax.  The Hallelujah chorus is a jokey 
                    thing bristling with Ragtime and Mortonesque Spanish Tinge. 
                    Handel’s Largo meanwhile is lushly romantic. The Albinoni 
                    Adagio is a big improvisation and the one that drifts the 
                    farthest, harmonically speaking, from its home port. There 
                    are also hints of a composer I suspect Montero likes, Rachmaninoff, 
                    in her powerful and rich chording. There are more explicitly 
                    jazz based elements – rhythmically at least – in Bach’s Prelude. 
                    And when it comes to Winter from the Four Seasons we find 
                    the melody emerging from the improvised reverie. The only 
                    piece that seems to me too over-extended is the Handel Hornpipe. 
                    But it does at least make an immediate contrast to the breezy 
                    Scarlatti sonata that follows it with its South American admixtures. 
                    And Montero-watchers can note with pleasure her own composition 
                    Baroque and Me which offers a kind of prescription 
                    for what she does – with a strong Bachian ethos, tight trills, 
                    ornaments and harmonic explorations.
                  
Enjoyable and 
                    unusual fare then from Montero; true there are some longeurs 
                    but if you don’t strive (and occasionally falter) you won’t 
                    create such generally zesty and sensitive reshapings.
                  
Jonathan 
                    Woolf