Receiving recordings of known repertoire always sends me on 
                  a hunt for reference recordings, and the CD of these works I’ve 
                  had knocking around for ages is the 1995 Sony release with Yefim 
                  Bronfman as soloist with the Los Angeles Philharmonic conducted 
                  by Esa-Pekka Salonen. I hadn’t played this for ages, and, time 
                  restraints aside, wondered why. It is well performed and recorded 
                  and has many fine qualities, but lacks some kind of animal magnetism 
                  – some of the grit and edge which is immediately apparent in 
                  this fine disc from Chandos. 
                    
                  There is a small heap of different recordings to choose from 
                  – Bartók’s piano concertos have that useful aspect of being 
                  able to fit neatly onto one CD, and there are numerous options. 
                  High on anyone’s list will be the classic 1959/60 recording 
                  with Géza Anda and Ferenc Fricsay on DG Classics, which has 
                  legendary status but is not without its flaws – the first concerto 
                  has a few ragged edges, but the Hungarian-ness of the performances 
                  is hard to beat and the sound quality surprisingly good. The 
                  up-to-date DG disc with Boulez 
                  and a variety of pianists and orchestras is also very good, 
                  but I’m not always convinced by Boulez’s sense of absolute control 
                  and lack of true abandonment at certain crucial moments, and 
                  the prominence of the piano on the recorded balance can be a 
                  bugbear – on which subject more later. Where the Bavouzet/Noseda 
                  combination win from the start is in their sense of exuberant 
                  fun. The lively articulation and rhythmic punch of the opening 
                  Allegro moderato from the Piano Concerto No.1 swings 
                  infectiously, even where the slower moods introduce different 
                  atmospheres. The tonal texture and definition of this very fine 
                  recording gives weight and impact to almost every instrument 
                  which pops up. The strings are rather recessed however, though 
                  admittedly their numbers are reduced in this concerto. When 
                  in full flow everyone else also seems to hide behind what can 
                  come across as a rather huge piano. 
                    
                  Recorded balance is often an issue with concertos, and the piano 
                  is a bit too BIG here and elsewhere to create the illusion of 
                  a real concert experience. This may not bother some listeners, 
                  and I have to admit this effect is less apparent where Bavouzet’s 
                  sensitive touch accompanies the stunningly rendered percussion 
                  and winds in the nocturne-like central Andante. His playing 
                  can certainly stand the spotlit treatment. You may indeed notice 
                  the percussion more than usual in this first concerto, the musicians 
                  complying with Bartók’s instructions to have the timpani and 
                  percussion placed directly behind the piano in this recording. 
                  The sonic detail is indeed something to behold, but the sheer 
                  liveliness and energy in the playing is what leaps out of your 
                  speakers, and the final Allegro of the first concerto 
                  a feast of remarkable playing. The Stravinskian elements in 
                  this music come through fleetingly but powerfully in this last 
                  movement and the excitement is palpable, but can you tell what 
                  the orchestra is supposed to be doing for instance between 1:45 
                  and 1:55, or do you wonder why the winds just can’t compete 
                  towards the end around the 6 minute mark? I don’t mean to be 
                  picky in what is clearly a world-class performance, but I don’t 
                  believe in an orchestra being dominated by a solo instrument 
                  in quite this way. 
                    
                  The Piano Concerto No.2 is another remarkable and forcefully 
                  convincing performance, the lighter moods conveyed with tremendous 
                  joie de vivre, and the piano balance less of an issue throughout. 
                  Stravinsky is overtly introduced here, with Bartók having great 
                  fun with a speeded up version of the closing theme from the 
                  Firebird. The musicians are also clearly having fun as 
                  well, and this is a clincher for Noseda’s as a top performance. 
                  The magical central Adagio is taken with an unsentimental 
                  sense of forward momentum, the beauty of Bartók’s orchestration 
                  and simplicity of means sufficient to create that atmosphere 
                  of uneasy night. The final Allegro molto with its energetic 
                  ‘sabre-dance’ character is another tour-de-force, and played 
                  with incredible vitality here. 
                    
                  Accuracy of inflection stand proud in the marvellously conversational 
                  phrases from the soloist of the Allegretto of Piano 
                  Concerto No.3, answered by an orchestra infused by resonances 
                  from Bartók’s own Concerto for Orchestra. This was one 
                  of the composer’s final works, but in its outer movements betrays 
                  little sense of a creative soul already aware of its impending 
                  demise. The music is more direct, less intensely scored, but 
                  only the hymn of the central Andante religioso could 
                  really be heard as a musical farewell. Movingly expressed here, 
                  Noseda allows his strings some Americanese succulence in the 
                  colouring, and with Bartók’s own homophonic harmonies associations 
                  with Barber and others do not seem entirely inappropriate. Impassioned 
                  and spectacular playing is the order of the day here, but there 
                  are still patches where the orchestra’s activity is obscured 
                  by a wall of piano. For a small experiment in mild surrealism; 
                  in the final movement, close your eyes and imagine you are sitting 
                  in the best seat in the concert hall. Then, in your mind’s eye, 
                  conjure the size of the piano with regard to the rest of the 
                  orchestra ... 
                    
                  This is a tremendous recording and sequence of performances 
                  of Bartók’s three piano concertos, and as far as modern cycles 
                  go it has to be considered as one of the best. I may be oversensitive 
                  to the balance of piano versus orchestra, but to my ears it 
                  is something which casts a minor blemish on an otherwise superlative 
                  production. It wouldn’t disturb me if it wasn’t so unnecessary. 
                  We can hear the piano well enough: Bartók’s orchestration covers 
                  the bases almost everywhere in that regard, and when the soloist 
                  is semi-engulfed by the orchestra that’s all part of the effect. 
                  The BBC Philharmonic deserves equal laurels here, playing 
                  out of their collective skin for Gianandrea Noseda. I sincerely 
                  hope that they join up to create an unbeatable triangle with 
                  Jean-Efflam Bavouzet again in future and I look forward to hearing 
                  the promised Ravel Concertos disc, their synergy is truly electric. 
                  
                    
                  Dominy Clements