Yet another unmissable release from Marc-André Hamelin. From the easy-going elegance of Tabby Cat Walk to the high spirits of Eubie’s Luckey Day (and the altogether wilder antics of Brass Knuckles), William Bolcom’s lifelong and affectionate homage to—and continuation of—this archetypal American genre is a guaranteed winner.

Not only is Allen Jones's picture vividly arresting in its own right, it has the perfect title for a ragtime collection. There’s a lot of 'two to the bar' in our William Bolcom release; indeed, the composer himself wonders at one point 'when I’d outgrow four flats, 2/4 time and foursquare phrases'. Happily for us, Bolcom clearly had second thoughts about abandoning a genre to which he's made a lifelong and significant contribution.

Bolcom and Jones are virtually exact contemporaries (born Seattle 1938 and Southampton 1937 respectively). Both produce work which is absolutely distinctive yet difficult to categorize—and which radiates energy and exuberance—in which popular and serious elements compete yet complement each other. Over a long creative career, Jones is closely associated with the rise of British Pop Art in the 1960s, and it’s easy to fall back on rather trite descriptions such as 'provocative' or 'controversial' when confronted with such works as 'Table' or 'Chair'—who (or what) is being provoked?—but Jones's output is varied enough to resist labels and 'isms', as anyone who saw his Royal Academy show in 2014 will attest. Much of his later work is more stylized, often involving narrative elements and particular locations—clubs, cabarets or (as here, with a ballerina stretching at the barre) a rehearsal studio.

Unlike the exuberant pianist in 'Two to the Bar', Marc-André Hamelin is famously undemonstrative at the keyboard. Can this music ever have enjoyed such advocacy (and that isn't to decry Bolcom's own pianistic abilities)? Gramophone finished its rave review by declaring 'the man is a miracle', and it's impossible to disagree, listening to this wonderful set.