Virtuosity defines itself – that’s part of its allure. You can’t fabricate it or force it or pin it down with a tick list of essential qualities. You can’t even anticipate it. It reveals itself‚ more often than not‚ in the most suprising of ways – and nowhere more so than when a musician sits down at a piano. Peter Hill began his bid for ‘Virtuoso’ status in the mid­1980s with his complete Messiaen keyboard survey for Unicorn­Kanchana. Over seven years and on as many discs‚ he delivered immaculate readings of some of the most technically and philosophically challenging works in the repertoire. Landmark recordings at the time‚ they remain an impressive achievement‚ their collective merit shining through on a five­volume budget­price reissue from Regis Records‚ available separately or as a box­set. Appropriately enough‚ Hill began his Messiaen marathon with the 1929 Préludes‚ the earliest work acknowledged by the composer as being characteristic of his own poetically charged language. His playing proved by turns‚ to be beautiful‚ ecstatic and contemplative‚ his interpretation ‘perfectly attuned’ and ‘acutely sensitive’‚ said David Fanning on first release‚ to Messiaen’s quixotically expressive world – an observation readily applicable to all that was to follow. Throughout‚ Hill limns Messiaen’s heady‚ quasi­pantheistic amalgam of rapture and stillness‚ evocation and exultation with illuminating exuberance. It’s the Catalogue d’Oiseaux that separate the real men from the genetically modified‚ of course‚ and there Hill has few worries. It’s as much his facility for engaging with the exhilarating conceits of the music as his seemingly limitless sensitivity to colour and shape‚ to tone and texture‚ to mood‚ moment‚ concept and execution that sets him apart. No wonder the series enjoyed the close support of Messiaen himself throughout‚ although early volumes occasionally suffered from a too close recording. Overall‚ though‚ a major achievement. For sheer technical bravura and dizzying sense of scale‚ Alkan is probably the closest any other composer will get to Messiaen. So uniquely challenging do the 12 Etudes seem that finding them complete on disc let alone in the concert hall is unhappily rare. Which is not to ‘make do’ with Marc­André Hamelin’s 1994 Music &Arts account of Nos 8‚ 9 and 10 – the pulverising Concerto. If you’re looking for a definition of virtuosity‚ you’ll find it here in playing of endless resourcefulness‚ probing intelligence and thrilling free­flowing poetry – tightrope walking across Niagara Falls without a safety net is a stroll in the park by comparison. Liszt‚ it was said‚ shrank from the idea of playing in front of Alkan‚ though his own keyboard skills were not to be sniffed at. His three­volume Années de pèlerinage gives a glimpse of that. Now a quarter of a century old‚ Lazar Berman’s loose­limbed readings‚ full of detail and revealing contrast‚ make a welcome return in DG’s Collectors Edition‚ where reacquaintance gives the lie to the entrenched notion that subtlety and refinement of line where foreign to Berman’s vocabulary. Book 3‚ in particular – vivid‚ vital and febrile in its telling – casts a dark­hued spell impossible to resist. Making a quick transfer to budget­price HMV Classics just three years after its first release is Martha Argerich’s rather crudely recorded 1965 début Chopin recital – or rather‚ part of it‚ the tentative B minor Sonata removed to make way for a Schumann Op 44 Quintet captured live a full 30 years later at the Concertgebouw with Mischa Maisky and Nobuko Imai providing committed contributions of their own. Curious but telling dabbling after the event and proof that titling an album ‘Virtuoso’ offers no guarantee of such. At the same price on Hyperion Helios is piano playing of a more graceful and more obviously intuitive quality than Argerich’s. At least in this instance. The first two volumes of Seta Tanyel’s Moszkowski trilogy (originally on Collins Classics)‚ make a persuasive case for a composer whom Paderewski claimed ‘after Chopin understands best how to write for the piano’. Discreetly sensitive to Moszkowski’s profile in the salon‚ Bryce Morrison generously noted how his music ‘often achieves not only a genuine pianistic celebration but also rises above picture­postcard evocation’. Tanyel plays as if the pieces were written with her in mind on recordings of near­textbook perfection. Two other piano recitals to note in passing: Cécile Ousset’s 30­year­old Ravel recital on Berlin Classics is a curious experience altogether: idiomatic‚ certainly‚ but emphatic playing and arm’s length recording keep the rippling‚ liquescent beauties of Miroirs‚ Gaspard de la Nuit and Jeux d’eau at bay – as tantalising and elusive as an ebb tide. Grigory Sokolov’s live 1993 coupling of Brahms’s Op 10 Ballades and Op 5 Sonata‚ on the other hand‚ makes articulate use of the emphatic gesture in as intense and intimidating performances of these works as you’re ever likely to encounter. Big­boned‚ certainly‚ but plenty of flesh and muscle‚ too. To cleanse the palette‚ two guitar collections: DG’s ‘The Art of Segovia’ crams 41 miniatures by 27 composers into its two­CD celebration of the guitarist and some­time arranger par excellence. Spanning 18 years up to 1970‚ the remastered compendium runs the gamut from the Baroque to the then brand new with a seamlessly mellow if occasionally antique­sounding fluidity that can’t fail but to charm. Culled from recordings from the last dozen years‚ Naxos’s ‘The Spanish Guitar’ proves a useful late­summer companion – a good‚ attractively programmed and affordable introduction to both instrument and repertoire.