Doubtless you’ve heard, or at the very least heard of, Dvořák’s Slavonic Dances. But his Scottish Dances? They turn out to be a perky little piano sequence cast in the manner of Beethoven or Schubert, though I doubt you’d recognise Dvořák’s stylistic fingerprints from listening to them. The Dances constitute just some of many tuneful morceaux featured in what’s perhaps the least-known section of Dvořák’s output. Supraphon’s earlier survey of Dvořák’s solo piano music was released on CD in April 2010 and showcased the eminent Czech pianist Radoslav Kvapil. Virtually everything featured here also graced Kvapil’s set, though he didn’t include some tiny miniatures programmed by Ivo Kahánek, not least a brief dance piece titled Forget-me-not by two composers, consisting of a polka by Dvořák with a trio by Antonín Liehmann. Dvorák was just 13 when he wrote this, his oldest preserved composition, and while of no great import musically it’s appealingly high-spirited and nice to have.

Kahánek has already earned himself acclaim for his recording of Dvořák’s Piano Concerto, where he plays alongside the Bamberg Symphony Orchestra under Jakub Hr≤≈a (12/19 – a BBC Radio 3 Disc of the Week), and his way with the solo pieces suggests an equal degree of conviction. His approach to this repertoire is marginally more thoughtful than Kvapil’s, more prone to breadth of utterance, less in terms of tempo than in the way he underlines the music’s often Brahmsian sonorities or stresses its inner voices, as in the heart-warming Moderato that opens the Suite in A (known in its orchestral version as the American Suite) or the Theme and Variations, Op 36, by far the most ambitious single item among the piano works, where Kahánek’s timing of 16'46" contrasts with Kvapil’s swifter 14'55". Chopin is often happily conspicuous by his presence, in the last of the Six Mazurkas, for example. Also of note is the stirring Tempo di marcia that closes the sequence of Six Pieces, Op 52 (my personal favourite among the piano works), where Kahánek scores extra points for an added sense of grandeur.

Dvořák stopped writing for solo piano 10 years before his death, although some of the best pieces date from his maturity. Finest of all are the Humoresques, Op 101 (the indelible No 7 is by no means the best of them), and the Poetic Tone Pictures, Op 85, a product of the period that also saw the composition of the Eighth Symphony and Second Piano Quartet, music imbued with subtle invention and a strong sense of atmosphere. Other shorter pieces include waltzes, Silhouettes, mazurkas and Eclogues, with occasional references to orchestral works (ie the Scherzo from the First Symphony in the eighth Silhouette, the first of the Op 72 Slavonic Dances in the last of the Four Eclogues and the first of the Legends in the A major Moderato). Kahánek plays each piece as if it means the world to him, and the highest compliment I can pay him is to claim that he is the first pianist in my experience who makes Dvořák’s solo piano music sound virtually the equal of Smetana’s. It’s a great set that all lovers of quality Romantic piano music should investigate without delay. Ondřej upka has provided expert annotations and producer Matouš Vlčinsky has masterminded bright, luminous sound.