Pizarro vermeidet vom ersten Ton an das plakativ Erzählende, alles Laute und Grelle wirkt bewusst zurückgenommen, wobei er stellenweise zu verhalten vorgeht und statt poetischer Verdichtung eher die Stimmung einer distinguierten Salonatmosphäre ereugt.

“Pizarro avoids the striking narrative from the first note, everything loud and glaring seems deliberately withdrawn, whereby he proceeds with restraint in places and instead of poetic condensation creates the mood of a distinguished salon atmosphere.”

We have here an ideal matching of artist, repertoire and instrument. Pizarro goes on in his liner notes about his choice of piano for the recording, a newly made Blüthner concert grand. The sonority is slightly sweet, bell-like (without being the least bit tinkly), and tactile – “good old wood-on-wire sound” is what the artist calls it – allowing for a wealth of nuances coloration. Linn’s surround production delivers a corporeal representation of the piano that’s inviting and present.

In his annotations, Pizarro says that Alicia de Larrocha once admonished him not to imitate her. That some young pianist who was taking on Spanish repertoire might be inclined to do so would be understandable, given her authority and proficiency. It appears that she need not have been concerned; his take on Goyescas is not only different from hers, it’s actually different from the other nine recordings I auditioned.

Although Pizarro is Portuguese, he comes from a pianistic tradition that has Granados and Albéniz in its bones – as you can tell from the fluency he brings to the two Spanish composers’ masterworks. He faces down the challenges of Goyescas with ease and never overlards the Latin flavour: the softer, romantically stylised moments are exquisitely handled…