From the start of his intermittent side career as a jazz pianist, esteemed conductor and composer Andre Previn has shown more feeling for the form than most classical artists who cross over. Going beyond a recreational involvement in improvised music, he has deepened his playing since skimming stylistic surfaces on his bestselling My Fair Lady album of nearly 50 years ago. Now 78, he gives us what may be his most satisfying jazz recording in Alone: Ballads for Solo Piano. The solo format allows him to reflect his debt to piano masters including Art Tatum, Erroll Garner, and Bud Powell in ways his work with trios and combos hasn't, while showing off his super-refined lyrical touch with its sophisticated sense of color.

This sparkling suite for violin and piano came into being when the composer had to adapt his incidental score for a production of Shakespeare's play to the impending absence of the chamber orchestral. The result is a brilliant piece for violin and piano, which the composer quickly released in a four-movement version. There are other recordings of the chamber orchestra suite in five-movements that duplicate only three of the movements of this version. Violinist Gil Shaham and pianist André Previn are ideal partners in this brilliant performance. The four movements allow Shaham to show four sides of his violinist's personality: He skips and plays in carefree fashion in the opening movement, indulges in the grotesquery and parody of the second, gets to play the romantic in the garden scene of the third movement, and dazzles with virtuosity in the final hornpipe. Previn's part is more than mere accompaniment; the piano often has a large part of the mood of the music and his contribution is, to use a word already employed here, ideal.

Previn's Four Songs, using poems by Toni Morrison, continues the US song tradition established by Copland. They may not be strikingly original in style (they owe a debt to 12 Poems of Emily Dickinson), but they are very attractive, idiomatically American and movingly evocative of their texts. The set was written for Sylvia McNair, with a plangent cello obbligato for Yo-Yo Ma. McNair is outstanding here, her voice radiant but warm, soaring but secure.

Despite the recording dates, the sound and balance are superb, and there's nothing to cloud your sense of Ashkenazy's greatness in all these works. From him every page declares Rachmaninov's nationality, his indelibly Russian nature. What nobility of feeling and what dark regions of the imagination he relishes and explores in page after page of the Third Concerto. Significantly his opening is a very moderate Allegro ma non tanto, later allowing him an expansiveness and imaginative scope hard to find in other more 'driven' or hectic performances. His rubato is as natural as it's distinctive, and his way of easing from one idea to another shows him at his most intimately and romantically responsive.

This, one of Tippett's earliest acknowledged works, is one of his most popular. The music relates the true story of a young German Jew who, terrified and enraged at the treatment of his mother, kills a Nazi officer and touches off a violent pogrom. Tippett adopts the structure of Bach's Passions, in which arias alternate with choruses and Lutheran hymns (chorales), although in place of the chorales Tippett substitutes magnificently moving Negro spirituals. "A Child of our Time" offers music of rage, poignancy, and deep compassion. As the title itself implies, it is both specific to a certain time and place, and universal as well. No lover of classical music can afford to ignore it.

This was Kyung-Wha Chung's first recording, made when she was 22, just after her sensational London debut in the Tchaikovsky Concerto with the same orchestra and conductor. It is splendid. Only a young, radiantly talented player could make these two tired warhorses sound so fresh and vital; only a consummately masterful one could sail through their daunting technical difficulties with such easy virtuosity and perfection. Her tone is flawlessly beautiful, varied in color and inflection; she puts her technical resources entirely at the service of the music, giving every note meaning and honestly felt expression without exaggeration or sentimentality. The Tchaikovsky has charm, humor, sparkle; the slow movement is dreamy, wistful, and unmuted but subdued and inward. The Sibelius is dark and bleak but full-blooded, passionate, and intense. The orchestra sounds and plays better in the Sibelius.

“If I’ve accomplished anything,” said Ravi Shankar, “it’s that I have been able to open the door to our music in the West.” Born in Varanasi in 1920, he achieved worldwide renown as a sitar player and unprecedented influence as an ambassador for Indian classical music, revealing new possibilities to such figures as George Harrison of the Beatles, jazz saxophonist John Coltrane and composer Philip Glass. As a performer, composer, teacher and writer, Ravi Shankar is renowned throughout the world for his pioneering work in bringing Indian music to the West. Shankar has been a cultural influence in the West for more than four decades as India’s most recognized and esteemed musical ambassador.

This solo piano set from Andre Previn is a bit unusual for he recasts ten Harold Arlen compositions (all but "For Every Man There's a Woman" and "Cocoanut Sweet" are quite well-known) by reharmonizing the chords and modernizing the melodies…

If you are only sampling Ravi then you may want to buy the "West Meets East" Album. This makes a good second, yet it is still worthy of five stars. The mixture of eastern instruments and western structure show up in this album. This is as much Andre Previn as it is Ravi. It is soothing yet carries a predictable tune. Many hybrids as these pieces carry the plus from both cultures. And Ravi does an excellent job of bridging. If you are a purist then you may want to pass over this album. Personally, I could keep it on continuous play.

On this disc, the playing's the thing and it is fabulous. Originally made in 1979 and 1980, these recordings capture Perlman at his incomparable peak. The effortless perfection of his technique leaves you gasping in disbelief; even the infamously unplayable passages in the Sibelius Finale are tossed off with easy nonchalance, and he avoids the false accents often heard in the treacherous opening theme. And Perlman's toneis warm, mellow, pure, and constantly expressive; its golden glow is like burnished copper on the low strings, like radiant sunshine up high, and he can vary it instantaneously with bow and vibrato to fit the music.