The catalogue is well provided with collectable versions of the French Suites—not Bach's title but the one by which we know them—but as with all great music there is always room for another. Jarrett's is alas not quite one of them. His tempos are mostly well chosen, though the Courantes of Suites Nos. 1 and 4 are a fraction too slow for comfort, and the Sarabande of Suite No. 4 walks too quickly through the country without even a side-glance at its beauty. Jarrett embellishes the repeats (the natural province of a jazz musician) in good style, introducing ornaments rather than by diminution, and, using both means, often lavishly (e.g. the Sarabande of Suite No. 5). Where he falls considerably short is in the relentlessness of so much of his delivery, lacking the gracious and revelatory shaping of his phrases through rubato, those little holdings back that say so much and which illuminate Moroney's performances; the foregoing Sarabande is an extreme example, in which the latter finds poetry that eludes the former. Jarrett's last-minute application of the brake at the end of movements such as the Allemande of Suite No. 4, where Moroney does it more gracefully, also fosters a 'metronomic' feeling. The music is in the heads of both players but it is also in Moroney's heart, and there lies a telling difference.
Moroney adds the two Suites (BWV818 and 819a) prepared by Gerber, and the extra galanteries to Suites Nos. 2 and 4, whereas Jarrett offers only the six basic French Suites. Further, Moroney's set has the benefit of his extensive and characteristically scholarly essay, but the meagre booklet with Jarrett's merely lists the individual movements and their timings, and does not even identify the instrument he uses. All in all this cannot be regarded as a competitive issue in its field. Moroney still holds a clear lead.'