Yuja Wang’s second recording combines classics of the piano 
                  repertoire with some less frequently heard works. The major 
                  works, Stravinsky’s Three movements from Petrushka and 
                  Brahms’ Paganini Variations, are each followed by a Scarlatti 
                  sonata. La Valse finishes the disc with a flourish. The 
                  fact that the Stravinsky and Ravel pieces were written and intended, 
                  respectively, for the Ballet Russe gives a pleasing symmetry 
                  to the program. The disc is titled ‘Transformation’, something 
                  Wang finds in the thematic changes wrought by Brahms and Ravel, 
                  and in Petrushka’s journey from puppet to human and back. This 
                  is an adventurous and well planned recital with plenty of scope 
                  to show off a young pianist’s versatility and technique. 
                  
                  Technique is certainly called for in the Petrushka work, 
                  and as expected Wang is equal to its demands. The pounding rhythms 
                  of the Danse russe, characteristic of Stravinsky’s ballet 
                  scores, are strongly dispatched. The contrasting episodes of 
                  La semaine grasse give her a chance to show off her bell-like 
                  touch in its melodic passages. However her choice of a Hamburg 
                  Steinway gives this performance a mellow, almost orchestral 
                  tonal range that is lacking in some of the more percussive accounts 
                  of this work. Idil Biret’s analog recording is a touch slower, 
                  but the Turkish pianist manages to infuse her performance with 
                  a more theatrical feel, and her steady pacing gives her performance 
                  more slow-burn dramatic tension. 
                  
                  After the fireworks of Petrushka, the first of the Scarlatti 
                  sonatas sounds at first a little plain, with much less tonal 
                  and dynamic variety than Emil Gilels brought to these miniature 
                  marvels. No attempt is made to vary Wang’s chaste approach by 
                  way of ornamentation, even in the repeats. However their place 
                  in the program is, as Wang says, as “a little bit of sunshine 
                  between the big dark works, a relief for the ear”. In this way 
                  they act as a palate freshener between the main courses. 
                  
                  Brahms’ Variations on a theme by Paganini constitutes 
                  a meal in itself. The variations, on the familiar Caprice no. 
                  24, were written as a challenge to the Polish pianist Carl Tausig. 
                  Yuja Wang is certainly up to the task right from the crisp articulation 
                  of the theme onwards. Extended trills sparkle, successive octaves 
                  are cleanly delineated, and the arpeggio variations keep a grip 
                  on the illusion of spontaneity. Wang’s rhythms sound unhurried; 
                  a tempo is set for each piece, and observed without either excessive 
                  rubato or rigidity. Dynamic contrasts are carefully brought 
                  out and each variation is sharply characterised. This Paganini 
                  Variations never sounds like a series of piano studies. 
                  
                  Yuja Wang plays the variations in the order adopted by Arturo 
                  Benedetti Michelangeli. Book 1 is played through from Variations 
                  1-12, with numbers 12 and 13 held over. In Book 2, nos. 9 and 
                  14 are omitted and nos. 3 and 4 are placed at the end. Variations 
                  12 and 13 from Book 1 conclude the performance. Whether one 
                  agrees with this re-ordering or not, it is characteristic of 
                  her thoughtful approach. Jean-Yves Thibaudet’s 1994 performance, 
                  by contrast, plays the variations in the order in which they 
                  appear in the score. This “straight” approach is consistent 
                  with the classical restraint of his performance, but means that 
                  he misses the chance to end with the first book’s powerful concluding 
                  variations. He is overall more distant, lacking the drama Yuja 
                  Wang brings to the work. This quality is even more evident in 
                  La Valse, which moves from the glitter of the Viennese 
                  waltz to the despair and chromatic dissolution of the final 
                  bars. 
                  
                  Guy Aron
                  
                  see also review by Bob Briggs