Resisting any temptation to repeat old jokes about the lack of famous Belgians, may I introduce to you, making his first appearance in these pages, (Pierre-) August Dupont (1827 90). Not to be confused with his brother Joseph, or Gabriel of that ilk (a Frenchman of some repute), or indeed other Dupont composers Pierre and Jean-Baptiste, our man spent most of his career in the Belgian capital ‘establishing his reputation as a leading pianist and pedagogue’, according to Jeremy Dibble’s well-researched booklet.

Dupont seems to have written four piano concertos, though the present work is numbered No 3 and the others appear to be lost. I wish I could report that it is a rip-roaring, ear-tickling sensation in the manner of the best of the concertos enshrined in this important series. But if you are hoping for another Rubinstein Fourth, Scharwenka No 1 or 4, a Henselt or a Paderewski, you will be disappointed. The brooding first movement is more like a rhapsody. After several hearings I still found it impossible to make out its structure or remember any particular theme: it is full of sound and fury signifying, in my opinion, very little. The slow movement is the best of the three – a beautifully wrought elegy with some lovely writing but which soon meanders off on to side roads and overgrown paths before returning home. The finale is a dance movement of continually changing rhythms and motifs, the latter element remaining resolutely forgettable, though in the final pages Dupont summons the return of ideas from the earlier movements into a rousing coda. I found it a frustrating work to sit through.

Benoit’s Symphonic Poem is a bit more like it. Peter Benoit (1834-1901), another forgotten figure, was, Dibble tells us, ‘regarded as the founding father of the national movement to establish Flemish music in Belgium’. He was much influenced by Flemish folk song and legends (one Parisian critic dubbed him ‘le Walter Scott de la musique’), as affirmed by the present work. A concerto in all but name, its three movements, ‘Ballade’, ‘Bardic Song’ and ‘Scherzo – Fantastical Hunt’, were inspired by folk tales concerning Harelbeke, Benoit’s birthplace. Striking themes and colourful orchestral scoring complement the heroic gestures of the piano in the first movement, culminating in a massive cadenza. The second movement opens, writes Dibble, ‘with a melody of true pathos and sonority (reminiscent perhaps of Schumann’s Romances for solo piano)’. The finale is a rumbustious and entertaining gallop, its main theme using a minor-key version of a Flemish folk song.

Once more, one can only marvel at Howard Shelley’s industry in the triple role of musical archaeologist, conductor and pianist. It is not just the fluency, power and precision of his playing that elevates both scores but the little understated moments when he pulls back to let the music breathe with exquisitely sensitive phrasing. And all this from a musician who is shortly to celebrate his 70th birthday.