World premiere recordings as well as relaxing favourites (including the famous Gymnopedie No. 1) from France's chicest, quirkiest composer. Alexandre Tharaud is renowned as an expert in French chamber music. Features acclaimed violinist Isabelle Faust. Beautifully packaged 2-CD set with access to downloads of extra bonus tracks. 'My aim in these two discs has been to offer the richest possible panorama of Satie's piano and chamber music, spanning his whole lifetime. Immersed in the world of Satie, we were touched, and often deeply moved by the trust he shows in his interpreters."

A cult record if there ever was one, Patrick Cohen’s Satie goes far beyond any one of the many versions of this music on the market. It is simply something else. Possibly the best CD Glossa has ever produced, it has provoked controversies of all sorts since its release in 1998, not only due to the interpretation and the instrument used, an 1855 Érard piano, but also because of the polemical essay which accompanies the recording.

The maximalist Franz Liszt and the almost minimalist Erik Satie might seem a preposterous album pairing, but violinist Andreas Seidel and pianist Steffen Schleiermacher – really, it is Schleiermacher whose project this seems to be, although he gets second billing – make a strong case for its relevance. The key is that it is the mysterious late works of Liszt that are featured. Between Liszt's works of the early 1880s and the famous Gymnopédies of Satie is a period of just seven or eight years, and, more importantly, a common spareness of melodic material and, in some cases, an interest in popular music.

Pianist Alice Sara Ott releases Nightfall, an album that explores the transition and harmony between day and night, light and darkness. This recording features a collection of evocative pieces by Satie, Debussy, and Ravel, including Debussy's "Clair de lune" and Ravel's Gaspard de la nuit - all played with Ott's velvet touch and soulful depth.

In the music of Erik Satie, the sublime and the ridiculous reside in such tantalizingly close proximity that it's useless to try to separate them–which may, after all, be the point. For example, what can one say about 'Three Pieces in the Form of a Pear' other than there are really seven of them and regardless what fruit they may sound or look like they comprise a set of dances as disarming as any in piano literature? Fortunately, the case is well made in the performances of Pascal Rogé and Jean-Philippe Collard, who bring just the right balance of lightness and weight, wit, and beauty and plainness to the music.