Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s new Chandos Ravel cycle markedly differs from his 2003 MDG recordings of the composer’s complete solo piano works. For one, it features a Yamaha concert grand whose penetrating clarity contrasts with the mellower patina of MDG’s 1901-vintage Steinway. Secondly, comparative listening reveals that the pianist has largely rethought and refined his interpretations over the past two decades.

Starting with smaller stand-alone selections, the Menuet sur le nom d’Haydn retains its linear cogency in a slightly faster and lighter manifestation. Sérénade grotesque’s piercing whole-tone chords now have more sting to their bite. I prefer À la manière de Chabrier’s newfound briskness and simplicity to the arguably over-interpreted MDG reading. Bavouzet’s fluid and unfussy gait in the Pavane hasn’t changed very much, although the Steinway’s mellifluous timbre does better justice to the beloved right-hand cantabile melodies. Likewise, the stylistically similar Jeux d’eau traversals boil down to whether or not one favours the Yamaha’s champagne sparkle over the Steinway’s port wine richness.

The Sonatine’s opening Modéré remains a model of graceful moderation in Bavouzet’s patient hands; and if the Animé finale is ever so slightly less incisive, the central Menuet gains in delicacy this time around. In Miroirs, leaner textures and stronger attention to softer dynamic levels characterise ‘Noctuelles’, ‘Oiseaux tristes’ and ‘La vallée des cloches’, while the pianist achieves clearer and more consistent balances between hands in ‘Une barque sur l’océan’, giving even Seong-Jin Cho’s gorgeous effortlessness (DG, 4/25) a run for its money. Perhaps Bavouzet’s finely tuned differentiation in the détaché phrases of ‘Alborado del gracioso’ sacrifices a bit of the earlier recording’s forward thrust, but that’s nitpicking.

A/B comparisons reveal the new Valses nobles et sentimentales in crisper, sharper and more firmly etched dimension; notice the pointing up of the fifth movement’s humorous dissonances, No 3’s newfound offhandedness and a less brooding yet comparably shimmering finale. Bavouzet continues to play Gaspard de la nuit at full capacity. If the climaxes of ‘Ondine’ come off sounding less vehement, it’s because the pianist scales Ravel’s dynamic peaks and valleys more carefully. The relationship between the tolling B flats and billowy chord processions of ‘Le gibet’ emerges more consistently in three-dimensional perspective. Unlike many of today’s virtuoso hotshots who speed through ‘Scarbo’ like Liszt gone wild, Bavouzet generates palpable tension and release by paying heed to Ravel’s scrupulous expressive directives, as did Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli in his prime.

In Le tombeau de Couperin, the Yamaha’s brightness imparts a beguiling clavecin/fortepiano-like bite to the Prélude’s embellishments and Toccata’s repeated notes, not to mention intriguing new inflections throughout the Rigaudon. For the Chandos cycle, Bavouzet adds the charming posthumously published Menuet in C sharp minor, along with La valse (he includes his own tasteful emendations to Ravel’s piano reduction); he approaches the score like a classicist facing a chamber orchestra rather than a super virtuoso, yet he gradually lets go as the music reaches its dancing apogee. As a result, the fiery final pages have more devastating impact than usual. To be sure, collectors may not wish to part with recent excellent Ravel cycles from Steven Osborne (Hyperion, 4/11), Bertrand Chamayou (Erato, 3/16) and François-Xavier Poizat (Aparté, 11/24) or the still viable Abbey Simon reference version (Vox). Yet Bavouzet’s seasoned mastery, stylish perception and caring commitment to this repertoire is never in doubt. Highly recommended.