I have always thought of Nikita Magaloff (1912-92) as rather a dry old bird, an impression confirmed by the Chopin recital here, recorded in 1954. It’s all highly polished and cultivated but studio-bound in an intimate acoustic, and matter-of-fact (try the last movement of the sonata and the Fantaisie-Impromptu). The two sides of the original Decca LP, its cover and sleeve notes reproduced in miniature on the CD’s cardboard case, last 51’06”.

But the three recitals on Accord, recorded towards the end of the pianist’s life, have made me revise my opinion. Here, the piano sings, the spirits soar: we are listening to a master. The collection of waltzes came as a particular revelation, both for Magaloff’s varied choice of takes on the genre, and in his brightly articulated and refined execution. The Godowsky and Debussy are notably graceful accounts; the Chabrier positively sparkles. If, however, he finds an unusual depth in the flashier numbers, there is an element of caution eschewed by pianists of earlier generations – Arthur de Greef in the Moszkowski, for example, and Moiseiwitsch in the Weber-Tausig. A delightful disc, nevertheless, though someone should take the proof reader of the booklet aside for a quiet word about a change of occupation.

One’s admiration increases further after one of the most completely satisfying accounts of Debussy’s Children’s Corner Suite that I have heard. Each short movement is so deftly characterised and conveyed with such charm that one is ineluctably transported from the concert hall to Chouchou’s nursery. Magaloff adopts another tone of voice for the two gorgeous Fauré impromptus and again for Ravel in persuasive accounts of the Valses nobles et sentimentales and Le Tombeau de Couperin (is there a hint of tiredness in the concluding Toccata?).

The most completely successful of all four discs is the Mendelssohn programme. Neither the F minor Prelude and Fugue, the Three Etudes nor the posthumously published Sonata in B flat major (composed in 1827) appear on disc or in recital all that frequently. To have them in such vivid and compelling performances is a bonus (the studies and Sonata are the sole items not played with an audience present). In the Variations and Songs Without Words, Magaloff shows again what a masterly stylist he was, and if others have despatched the Rondo more deftly, few have imbued the Andante with a sense of urgency to such intriguing effect.