Alejandro Bento is a tremendous pianist. Each track on the album shows him demonstrating a wide range of skills, but “Mar” is the track that most impresses me. Bento plays through a ten minute track that feels more like a brief suite than it does a single track, with a simple theme that Bento pushes beyond its limitations and into new and exciting places.

Bento’s also an incredibly dynamic pianist. His music stays interesting because of the masterful control that he has over the power of his fingers, allowing the volume to ebb and flow with seemingly little effort. He plays with so much grace that it’s easy to listen to the album on repeat, picking up minor things you hadn’t noticed on each new listen.

In many ways, Bento reminds me of some of Nils Frahm’s older work. But where Nils Frahm dove deep into electronic, Bento takes a different approach.

The most interesting track on the record, though, is the surprisingly well-done Robot Koch remix of “Rain”. The remix takes the song in an entirely new direction. It’s an elegant mix of electronic music and traditional classical.

I think the folks at Subtempo Records must have agreed with me, because this week also sees the release or Ripples Remixed, a seven-track collection of remixes by artists who are pushing the bounds of what’s possible with electronic music. The remixes are as elegant and beautiful as the original music — which is a surprising (and triumphant) surprise.

In many ways, it’s easier to love the remixes than it is the original. I suspect everybody will find something to love in the remixes, and the original record will appeal largely to fans of modern classical.

The remixes add a lot of texture to what was already a very textured record, giving an impression of added depth and meaning to each track.

You can listen to Ripples on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

You can listen to Ripples Remixes on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

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I think the concept behind this is beautiful. It sounds exactly like what Clem is describing: these songs all sound like they’ve been played by one pianist. It’s a remarkable trick that requires considerable talent and more than a little bit of luck.

Part of that luck comes from Clem playing both parts. Every pianist plays slightly differently, the same way that we all speak slightly differently, so Clem can match his own “speaking” intonations by handling every role.

But regardless of that, the compositions are top notch. It reminds me of Nils Frahm’s Screws, which he recorded while he had a thumb injury that rendered one of his hands almost useless. As a result, the album was played with one full hand and only one or two fingers on the other. It gave the album a simplicity that it would never have achieved otherwise.

Somehow, 2Pianos feels similar in its qualities. Texturally, this has all the magic of Screws. It’s nearly surreal in its composition, with clear technical ability. But it’s also incredibly simple music that’s easy to grasp, even for modern classical newcomers.

What’s most impressive about 2Pianos, though, is that it’s able to find simplicity in the complexity of its parts. Clem has written these tracks for two players, but plays them as if they were one. That’s still four hands playing piano at once — twice as many as most piano records, obviously.

But by the time you hit “Yuri”, the final track, it never feels like you’ve been subjected to that level of complexity. Instead, the music has washed over you. It’s a cleansing, calming feeling. It’s almost a ritual. Yes, 2Pianos has nearly magical qualities.

Needless to say, I’m looking forward to 2Pianos II.

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No doubt this is intentional: “sparse” is the best word to describe the record, which features few vocal moments — and almost entirely for effect. Although Arnalds doesn’t replace every instrument with a piano — he still uses much of his string accompaniments — this record sounds entirely organic (and beautiful). It eschews much of the classical looping of his past efforts.

Ólafur still loops his instruments, though: “1995” is, fundamentally, a couple of loops that twist and turn around each other until the song is over. But on Island Songs, the loops aren’t made up of electronic noises or beats. There’s nary a beat to be found on the EP; it finds its rhythms through the sounds of the island.

There’s only one song on the EP that features a traditional vocal performance. “Particles” feels almost entirely different from the rest of the record, particularly because its beat is less implied and more forceful than the other songs. Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir’s vocal performance, though, feels like it does the work of four or five instruments, capturing the same vibe that Arnalds is working with throughout the rest of the record almost entirely on her own.

Her vocal work couldn’t come at a better time: Island Songs is perhaps purposefully similar throughout, with many songs sounding like riffs on a theme instead of separate ideas. While album closer “Doria” is the major key complement to the minor key opener, “Árbakkinn”, it retains many of the same musical ideas. This is purposeful: Island Songs captures the near-monochromatic beauty of Iceland’s vistas by making these tracks similar.

As a result, there’s no clear idea of where the record ends and where it begins; much like the island’s ecosystems, they fade in and out of each other. While each is individual enough on its own, they’re all clearly connected.

Island Songs is two things: entirely beautiful and completely focused. You’re not likely to hear a more focused EP this year, and Arnalds delivers the goods in spades. Island Songs is perhaps my favourite work from Ólafur to date.

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What’s impressive is how the different musical pieces in Elements all represent grasping at something new, something not totally understandable — creation myths, colour, the edge and shapes of our landscape — and presents it as a fully-orchestrated and masterfully-conducted whole.

Einaudi’s work is highly cinematic — as beautiful as anything Zimmer or Howard Shore will ever do. This record takes you on a journey. Close your eyes and listen to it carefully, and you’ll be transported to another place. A place where your imagination can go wild.

Einaudi may have produced the best classical record of the past two years. It’s beautiful, organic, tense, and authentic music from one of the world’s best living composers.

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