Very little of Litolff’s music has appeared on record – surprising for a pianist-composer who in his day (1818 91) was often compared to his friend Franz Liszt. To most, he remains a one-hit wonder: the Scherzo from his Concerto symphonique No 4 has been a classical lollipop ever since Irene Scharrer’s 1933 recording with Henry Wood. The ever-adventurous Hyperion label has recorded all four of Litolff’s extant symphonic concertos (4/97, 10/01) and two of his piano trios (3/20 – utterly captivating if you don’t know them), an invaluable contribution to our knowledge of this fascinating musician. So far as I am aware, though, this new album is only the second time any solo piano work by Litolff has ever been recorded. The first time was in 1913 (his Spinnlied, Op 81, on a Zonophone disc).

So without hearing a note, it’s hats off to the young Tibetan pianist Tingyue Jiang (b1996), pupil of Jerome Rose and the late Joseph Banowetz, to whose memory this recording is dedicated. Her fleet fingers and stylish empathy are just what are required in this type of repertoire.

That said, this first volume of piano solos contains no masterpieces. All are short genre pieces typical of the period (1846 62). The first of the six Arabesken, ‘Heimgedanken’ (‘Memories of home’) might attract you, its sweet nature reminiscent of Schumann; and certainly the last of the set, ‘Frohes Wiedersehn’ (‘Happy Reunion’), would challenge most pianists with its 6/8 semiquavers marked at a daunting il più presto possibile e sempre leggierissimo. With the first of the six Opuscules – an opuscule being defined as ‘a brief or insignificant literary or music work’ – we are given stronger evidence of Litolff’s individual voice derived from Schumann, Mendelssohn, Chopin and the eccentricity of Alkan. ‘Tarantelle calabraise’ is great fun, but then with the following two ‘Vagabondes-Polkas’ he relapses into third-rate salon mediocrity. These and the remaining opuscules are the kind one encounters in those old collections that had titles like ‘Sixth Star Folio’.

Likewise, Invitation à la Polka, La mazurka and Valse élégante might be mistaken for Gottschalk or pastiche Chopin. Une fleur du bal is an ear-catching repeated-note piece. Most intriguing (and demanding) of all is the concluding Scherzo (1862), which is Litolff having a blatant (but immensely entertaining) second bite of the cherry, for it uses exactly the same figuration as the celebrated (and misnamed) ‘Litolff Scherzo’. This one, from a decade later, allows us a glimpse of why Litolff was so feted in his day.

I suspect there will be more distinguished pieces on future volumes to which I look forward, especially if introduced to them by the admirable Tingyue Jiang. Well-recorded, with a comprehensive 20-page booklet (English only).