William Murdoch’s name does not readily come up in discussions about great pianists active in the 20th century’s first half, most likely because this Australian-born artist died relatively young (he lived from 1888 until 1942), and his recordings have not gained systematic reissue. However, we now have a fairly substantial discographical representation via APR’s edition of Murdoch’s complete Columbia solo electrical recordings. Given APR’s proclivity towards comprehensiveness, I wish the label had committed to a truly complete Murdoch edition, including as well the acoustic recordings, the concerto and chamber collaborations and the sides for Decca. Such a release would have provided a more rounded and accurate perspective of Murdoch’s artistry.

That quibble aside, Murdoch’s exemplary pianism and intelligent musicianship consistently make themselves felt. The pianist himself singled out his 1927 Chopin Third Ballade as a favourite. One can hear why: his fluently impassioned yet thoughtfully parsed interpretation ebbs and flows with naturalness and inevitability, more so, indeed, than the thrilling yet sometimes lurching 1925 Ignaz Friedman and 1929 Alfred Cortot accounts. I’m bothered less by the Chopin F major Waltz’s rhythmic ‘hiccups’ than annotator Jonathan Summers is (his informative and fair-minded booklet notes deserve praise), but find the pianist’s clear and tasteful Berceuse somewhat lacking shimmer and long line when compared alongside, say, Moriz Rosenthal or Solomon.

Occasional pressing ahead dissipates the generally graceful impression Murdoch makes in a pair of Mendelssohn Songs without Words but the animation and urgency of Schumann’s F sharp Romance is carefully contained. Murdoch’s eloquently sung-out Liszt Liebestraum No 3 liberates accumulated layers of interpretative kitsch from this warhorse but his thoroughly assured yet cool-headed 12th Rhapsody doesn’t match contemporaneous versions by Levitzki, de Greef and Scharrer for dynamism and rhetorical aplomb. Murdoch also recorded 10 short competition test pieces by as many (then) contemporary British composers, prefacing them with spoken commentaries (omitted here for reasons of space, unfortunately).

Murdoch’s solo Beethoven, however, proves this collection’s prize. The Pathétique’s outer movements are fleetly ablaze with power and sharp accentuation, fusing Beethoven’s combative persona and classicist aesthetic. Both surging sweep and controlled freedom characterise Murdoch’s Appassionata first movement, while the central variations receive an integrated, slightly understated reading. He begins the finale at a measured pace at which the tumultuous passagework can forge ahead without blurring. It sets the stage for a staggeringly fast coda, where Murdoch’s fingers take off like a rocket and never derail for a second, making a speed demon such as Sviatoslav Richter sound sedate by comparison. Fine transfers all around, although Seth Winner’s earlier Murdoch/Beethoven restorations for Pearl are fuller in the mid-range.