This collection is something of a surprise. We know Castelnuovo-Tedesco for his guitar music and most particularly for his very successful concerto for that instrument. But as a dis- tinguished academic figure in Los Angeles he also made a considerable reputation as a teacher specialising in film scores. (His pupils included Henry Mancini, Andre Previn, Nelson Riddle and John Williams).

On the evidence of this record he was also a significant composer of piano music. It may not, as soloist Mark Bebbington suggests, lie easily under the fingers, but the result is challenging, post-Lisztian pianism which mixes influences from Debussy, Granados, and Albeniz (among others). The result is often compelling, and at times – as in the glittering ‘Nachtmusik’ from Alt Wien and the exquisite ‘Notte ’e luna’ and ‘Voce luntana’ of Piedigrotta – memorably evocative. This Neapolitan cycle is framed by the ferocious bravura of a ‘Tarantella scura’ (evoking a heady thrumming of guitars) and, as the finale, an increasingly extrovert and brilliant treatment of a simple folk song (Lariùla!).

Le danze del Re David, the most striking work, is more indebted to the composer’s Jewish heritage. Its seven dances alternate boldly brusque piano writing with sweet lyricism and glowing pianistic colours. The work opens with a brutal Vivo e tumultoso, followed by the bell-tolling Ieratico. The tumultuous third dance (marked ‘rapid and savage’) again contrasts with a dreamy Lento ad estatico, followed by the emphatic Rude e ben ritmato. A gently swaying sixth dance brings another lyrical interlude before the very catchy marching finale, Allegro guerriero. The whole suite is full of vivid, colourful ideas.

Questo fu il carro della morta is a sombre vision of ‘Death’s Chariot’ (one recalls Liszt’s La Lugubre gondole), which generates a strong, dark-textured climax, while I Naviganti captures a similarly grave yet more lyrical mood. These semi-lugubrious evocations are different again from the light yet still disturbing insouciance of the sentimental Viennese ‘Waltzer’ which opens Alt Wien, while the powerful last movement (‘Memento mori’) of this strange triptych brings a fin de siècle ambivalence, with death hovering over its closing section.

This is remarkable music, very ‘orchestral’ yet remaining pianistic, and Mark Bebbington has its full measure. He is well recorded, too. Worth exploring.