Satie is a composer who defies description, and his 
          mysteriously poignant piano pieces, which make up about three-quarters 
          of his output, are his most representative music. By turns tender, solemn, 
          droll, witty and occasionally just plain boring, they have the same 
          quirky originality as his life and his love of flying in the face of 
          convention. They have certainly proved their appeal for record collectors, 
          judging by the amount of recital discs in the catalogue. Peter Dickinson’s 
          well-recorded survey, which was originally issued at mid-price by Conifer, 
          makes a welcome return at budget price. It is up against very stiff 
          competition from, among others, Pascal Rogé, Anne Queffélec, 
          Ronan O’Hora, Reinbert DeLeeuw and Jean-Philippe Collard, and it is 
          to Dickinson’s credit that he more than holds his own in this company. 
        
 
        
Rather than ‘theming’ the items, as DeLeeuw does, Dickinson 
          opts for a general early-middle-late survey of the music, giving a good 
          overall picture of its many facets. He proves himself to be a sensitive 
          artist in this repertoire, and the sad tenderness of the ubiquitous 
          Gymnopédies comes over well. He may be slightly brisker 
          than some with the meltingly beautiful flow of Nos.1 and 3, but this 
          could be a conscious attempt to eschew an inappropriately romantic indulgence. 
          The odd discreet rubato is in evidence elsewhere, as in the delicious 
          little waltz, Je te veux (I want thee), where the café-cabarets 
          in which Satie played are beautifully evoked. 
        
 
        
Of particular interest are the works of the mature 
          phase of his career, where characteristic caperings and banalities are 
          balanced by his concerns for lyrical balance, harmonic adventurousness, 
          and what became seen as a sort of proto-minimalism. Dickinson is remarkably 
          subtle in his approach here, giving due weight where required without 
          missing any sense of fun inherent in the music. The marvellous Sonatine 
          bureaucratique, for example, gives the right impression of Parisian 
          bustle and energy, without losing sight of the Clementi-style parody 
          constantly lurking beneath the surface. 
        
 
        
The piano tone is very truthful, the digital recording 
          capturing the instrument’s sonority with clarity and presence. Booklet 
          notes are very fulsome and detailed for a budget reissue, and altogether 
          this attractive disc can be confidently recommended. 
        
 
        
Tony Haywood