Today it is difficult to imagine the ‘market saturation’ enjoyed by Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words in the 19th century, an era when a piano in the household symbolised culture, refinement and status, meanwhile fulfilling the role of a veritable home entertainment centre. The Songs appeared in eight volumes, each containing six pieces, though the last two, Opp 85 and 102, were assembled by publishers from the composer’s estate. Peter Donohoe’s new Chandos release includes 24 of these 48 Songs, prefaced by four works from the 1820s. Donohoe’s charming booklet notes refer to his childhood affection for Mendelssohn’s music; this recording suggests that early bond remains strong.

The introduction of the Rondo capriccioso, Op 14, is rhetorically apt, while the Rondo proper unfolds with dash and élan. Each of the Fantasy-caprices of Op 16 is strongly individual: the ardour of the first, the playful trumpet fanfares of the second, though the clarity in the third is marred by rather lavish pedalling.

Fortunately, for the ordering of the Songs themselves, Donohoe opts to mix and match from the various sets, based on musical affects and key relationships, rather than a dutiful chronological slog. The lyrical thrust of the genre is happily pervasive, with the upper line of the first in the series, Op 19b No 1, effortlessly singing. Many create a palpable atmosphere, such as the delicate sadness of Op 19b No 2, the hardy Schumannesque swagger of Op 62 No 4, the simplicity and grace of Op 30 No 3 or the chatty volubility of the Spinning Song, Op 67 No 4.

Naturally in so many miniatures dependent on a highly personal point of view, occasionally one might take issue. In the case of the famous Spring Song, Op 62 No 6, Donohoe seems intent on stripping away cloying extramusical associations by ‘playing it straight’, sacrificing some of its inherent character in the process. That said, one looks forward to the next instalment of these beloved pieces.