J. Haydn, Piano Sonatas (vol. 7),
His touch—for example, in the Andante of no. 29 in E-flat major, Hob. XVI:45 (delightfully confusing)—is fleet without being precious, and the playing is admirably straightforward, without pomp where there belongs none. A tad more emotional wallowing might be desired by some, but I don't find it lacking in depth or enjoyment. On occasion methinks I can hear Mr. Jandó hum along ever so slightly, but it can't compare to the out-of-kilter Gould humming in his highly interesting if overly idiosyncratic five last Haydn sonatas. At the Naxos price it is a wonderful, if not essential, addition to one's library.