Pierre Hantai is not yet 30 and won the Bruges harpsichord competition when only 19. With the boldness of youth, in this collection of 22 sonatas he has chosen about a dozen that are rarely heard—there is, for example, no existing current version of the uncharacteristically Scarlattian Kk58, a fugue with a chromatically descending subject: he is to be thanked for trying to enlarge the public's acquaintance with this vast keyboard treasure-house instead of following the familiar trails of so many players. What immediately strikes the ear is the dryer, more incisive timbre of the instrument he employs (an Italian model): there is, however, quite a bit of creaking and action noise, often suggesting (e.g. in the Spanish-dance Kk456) overforceful attack. Some sonatas are played with repeats, some without, and some with only one half repeated. Hantai is heard at his best in the gayest examples—Kk43, the highspirited Kk56 with its wide left-hand leaps, the boisterous Kk122 or the excited reiterated-note chatter of Kk141—and the busy moto perpetuo of Kk18 is most enjoyable: it comes as a surprise, however, to find him taking the romantic Kk87 in B minor (a favourite sonata) so fast and unconcernedly.
His previous disc, of Farnaby pieces (Adda, 9/91), I found marred by intrusive agogic mannerisms, but here, fortunately, only Kk248 suffers from unnatural tenutos or hold-ups in odd places which upset the rhythmic flow; but I was horrified that in Kk369 (full of syncopated games, like Kk523) Hantai four times commits the crime of distorting the shape by cutting a quaver beat. Nevertheless, turning to the bright side, it is good to have here the extraordinary Kk204a with its changing pace and mood and hopping bass octaves, the cheerfully teasing key-dodging of Kk456, and the fierce, abrupt detonations in Kk525 which to Kirkpatrick suggested artillery salvoes in some popular fiesta and to Hantai rifle-shots in a royal hunt.'