By Jonathan Blumhofer

George Li’s latest release showcases a budding artist with a growing command of musical structure, technique, and character; Bruce Liu’s got the measure of Erik Satie’s music — next time, perhaps, he can take on more of it.

It’s been nine years since George Li took home the Silver Medal at the International Tchaikovsky Competition but, in that time, the Boston native has been making good on his early promise. Indeed, Movements, Li’s latest release, showcases a budding artist whose command of structure, technique, and character can combine into potent musical interpretations.

That can be especially daunting in the music of Robert Schumann, whose Davidsbündlerstänze form the bulk of Li’s new album. And yet such is the pianist’s sense of direction and phrasing that he’s never thrown for a loss by the occasionally spastic nature of the writing or its sudden shifts of mood.

Instead, Li’s grounded his entire performance in the score’s dancing impetus. As a result, it sings – and to a degree that makes all the music’s repeats bearable (Li opts for Schumann’s revised version of the score).

He captures its jaunty, playful gestures – the exuberant leaps in No. 3, the impish sprays of 32^nd notes in No. 12, the sprightly call-and-response of No. 16 – well. So, too, the dances’ stormy moments: Nos. 4 and 10 roar. Throughout, balances are smartly calibrated. The vigorous left-hand part of No. 6 speaks forcefully, as do the driving figures in No. 8.

At the same time, Li doesn’t stint on the music’s poetic moments. No. 2 is beautifully sad. No. 5 unfolds with touching affability. And the concluding No. 18 dances sweetly and tenderly into the dying of the light.

The pianist’s approach to Maurice Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentale demonstrates a similarly confident distinction between vigorous rhythms and shapely melodic lines. His Valses mix delicate phrasings (No. 2), wry turns of harmony (No. 4), incredibly focused gradations of soft dynamics (No. 5), and haunting atmosphere (“Epilogue”), tying them all together into a compelling, hypnotic argument.

Just as bracing – if not quite so mysterious – is Li’s take on Stravinsky’s Three Movements from “Petrushka.” The music’s daunting demands clearly hold no terrors for the pianist: just listen to his control of voicings, dynamics, and shape in “The Shrovetide Fair,” which also doesn’t hold back on spirit and humor.

Li’s way with the opening “Russian Dance” is cut from the same cloth, clean and incisive, its thick, low-register chords emerging lucidly. The central “Petrushka’s Dance” offers a further blend of rhythmic and tonal precision.

Leading things off, Li assays Schumann’s C-major Arabeske. Though its searching, rhapsodic opening refrain suggest that nothing too much is afoot, the pianist’s strong, rhythmic account of its second Trio hints at the fireworks to come.

Speaking of fireworks, Bruce Liu is no stranger to keyboard pyrotechnics. The Paris-born winner of the 2021 Chopin International Competition, he’s made a name for himself as a champion of full-blooded Romantic fare, as well as Bach and Rameau. His most recent recording, though, turns the tables to take a look at Erik Satie.

That quirky, turn-of-the-20^th-century French composer is, perhaps, more talked about than programmed, though much of his music has found its way to disc. Liu offers the six Gnossiennes that were published more than seventy years apart (Nos. 1-3 date from the early 1890s, Nos. 4-6 came out posthumously in 1968).

His feel for this fare is assured. The delicate voicings of the grace notes in No. 1 – sometimes delicate, sometimes steely – emerge out of sumptuously hazy textures. The eighth-note figurations and runs in No. 3 (also Liu’s phrasing of the repeated notes in its refrains) sparkle. Hints of jazz, or at least the improvisatory nature of Satie’s style, emerge strongly in Nos. 2 and 5, while the dreamy tonal shifts of No. 4 and the sinuous progressions of No. 6 keep the ears ever on their metaphorical toes.

Interestingly, Liu doesn’t offer more than the Gnossiennes, though he plays them twice: once on a Steinway and once on an upright piano. Interpretively, both of his approaches are basically identical. Sonically, the latter sounds like the former but played under water.

Given the brevity of the recording (just over thirty minutes, total), one wouldn’t have minded more Satie – either some Gymnopedie excerpts or, perhaps, some of his more obscure keyboard works. Heaven knows, Liu’s got the measure of this music; next time, perhaps, he can take on more of it.

Jonathan Blumhofer is a composer and violist who has been active in the greater Boston area since 2004. His music has received numerous awards and been performed by various ensembles, including the American Composers Orchestra, Kiev Philharmonic, Camerata Chicago, Xanthos Ensemble, and Juventas New Music Group. Since receiving his doctorate from Boston University in 2010, Jon has taught at Clark University, Worcester Polytechnic Institute, and online for the University of Phoenix, in addition to writing music criticism for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette.