I might just as well simply repeat what I wrote in the February 2019 issue when I welcomed Mark Viner’s first volume of Chaminade solos. All I need to do is change the references to the repertoire, for this is an equally impressive addition to the composer’s discography, dispatched with palpable fondness and pianistic relish. Like its predecessor, it has been handsomely recorded (and Viner is a superb keyboard colourist) and comes with a detailed and scholarly 15-page English-only booklet by the pianist.

So what do we have here? L’Ondine (1900, eight years before Ravel’s conception of the water nymph, 13 years before Debussy’s) and then ‘Pas des écharpes’, one of those pieces you instantly recognise but can’t put a name to. This is the ‘Scarf Dance’, one of 21 numbers from Chaminade’s ballet Callirhoë (1887), recorded by Chaminade herself on January 1, 1901 (as well as, later, Godowsky, Una Bourne and several others of that era). These are followed by Six Pièces humoristiques (1897). Nos 1 and 6 (‘Réveil’ and ‘Norwégienne’) are first recordings; No 4 is – a lovely surprise – ‘Autrefois’ (‘Yesteryear’), a favourite of Shura Cherkassky. The poise and simplicity of Viner’s take on it bears comparison. In between Guitare and Danse créole (‘2^e havanaise’), the latter another title from Chaminade’s 1901 session, comes a work new to this writer and, I guess, many others. This is Au pays dévasté, Op 155, which Viner aptly describes as ‘arguably one of Chaminade’s most profound conceptions … certainly the more serious work of her later compositional period’. It is a serene and haunting piece, published in 1919, surely reflecting her involvement with nursing wounded soldiers during the First World War.

After that there is the contrast – and what a contrast – of six Études de concert written between 1890 and 1910, not to be confused with the Six Études de concert, Op 35, the set containing ‘Autumn’ and which appeared on Viner’s earlier release. These are all fabulous fire-breathing works of high quality requiring a virtuoso technique, proof if proof were needed that Chaminade is not just a writer of ‘salon’ music. It can only be from a lack of curiosity that these have been overlooked by the pianistic fraternity and (less understandably) sorority. With the charming Sérénade and Lolita (‘caprice espagnol’), Mark Viner adds another impressive album to his already valuable discography. When will the classical world at large wake up to this great talent we have in our midst?