Joly Braga Santos (1924-88) was a figure of exceptional importance in Portuguese music, as anyone who has heard the first volume of this set (3/20) will have realised. His trajectory, from a modally based but contrapuntal writing that often summons the benevolent shadows of composers such as Vaughan Williams, to a much more chromatic, edgy style that took account of developments by younger composers, is unique. But this would be of no moment were his technical skills not so outstanding.

Volume 2 jumps around chronologically, and this is all to the good, because it enables the listener to hear very clearly the continuities and discontinuities between his earlier and later work. It begins with the Piano Quartet, dating from 1957, a satisfying, rather Franck-like cyclical structure in one movement. Its sense of unstoppable energy is something shared by the Suite of Dances (1984) for piano, oboe, viola and double bass, even though the musical vocabulary has changed in other respects. This energy is at its most patent in the outer movements, but it is the central Sarabanda that I find most memorable. It has a nocturnal, eerie quality that is to be found in a number of other works by Braga Santos. In fact, the Piano Trio, written in the following year, opens with a striking Largo that is very much in the same vein, and the substantial third movement is a reflective Lento, which Bernardo Mariano’s excellent booklet note suggests might be evocative of ‘the vast Alentejo plains on a hot summer afternoon’. The middle movement is the fast one, a percussive and thrilling Allegro.

We go back to 1956 for the Adagio e Scherzino for wind quintet, and again one is struck by the continuities, especially of gesture. The work was not in fact performed until 33 years later. It’s a fine addition to the repertoire, and one only wishes it were longer. The album closes with the (again, unfortunately brief) Suite for Brass, from 1985. Once again, Braga Santos displays his characteristic ear for sonority here, exploring instrumental textures with confidence and originality (the muted writing in the first movement is particularly memorable.).

Vol 3 serves to ‘mop up’ the remaining chamber music, so to speak – what we have here is one trio and a series of duets. But I do not at all wish to imply that any of the works here is of a lesser status, brief though most of them are. Once again we jump back and forth in time, beginning with the impressive Aria a tre con variazione for clarinet, viola and piano (1984), a generally dark-hued piece, but which works gradually towards a delicate lyrical flowering. Improviso for clarinet and piano (1988) was the composer’s very last work, and premiered after his death. Lasting some five minutes, it takes the listener on quite a journey, from a rather brooding beginning to a more fragmented style and back, via a clarinet solo, to an appropriately nocturnal ambience.

Aria I for cello and piano dates from the 1940s, and also included is a transcription for bassoon and piano: it is fascinating to compare it with the original. Both are extraordinarily atmospheric miniatures. Of the other works on the album, perhaps the Tema e variações for cello and piano (1948) and Aria II (1977) for the same combination are the most impressive: the composer really had a naturally affinity for the cello (there is a superb concerto for the instrument dating from 1987), but there is nothing on this recording that lacks interest.

Performances on both discs, all by Portuguese musicians or musicians resident in Portugal, are of the highest calibre, and the recorded sound (they were recorded at the Centro Cultural de Belém just outside Lisbon) is resonant but clear. I must also mention the excellent documentation, which, as well as the detailed notes by Bernardo Mariano I have already referred to, include depositions from friends and pupils of Braga Santos. A superb project, superbly realised.