Decca’s invaluable DVD and bonus CD contains all known footage of Sir Clifford Curzon in solo recital, made available for the first time since original BBC broadcasts dating from 1959 and 1968. Invaluable because Curzon’s performances, whether live or recorded, were notoriously rare. Sent, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to spy out the land and try to squeeze further recordings from him, I was instantly rebuffed. “You see, my dear, the joy of a live performance is that it vanishes for ever, like an imprint on water. And I can see by your face that that is the response you wanted.” Mischievous, fearful and evasive, Curzon dreaded the exposure of recordings, almost as if he was being invited to appear naked before the cameras and microphones.

And yet the qualities of Curzon’s greatness – his tonal elegance, his savage probity and intensity – are here for all to savour. And whether in Schubert, Schumann or Brahms (his way with the first Capriccio from Op 116 is like a blade of light, quite without a more conventional Brahmsian breadth) his playing, if sometimes pressured and febrile, is never less than enthralling. Here is all the agony and ecstasy of this extraordinary artist as he recreates his chosen composers in all their first glory and inspiration.

Decca’s accompanying CD is given over to Curzon’s Desert Island Discs where he rides roughshod over Roy Plomley’s often patronising and irrelevant questions with gales of nervous laughter and all of his rapier wit and energy. He speaks of his uncle, Albert Ketèlbey of In a Monastery Garden fame; quotes Britten: “Mozart is the only composer I can listen to to make me happy in any circumstances”; talks of two unforgettable recitals in the Royal Festival Hall in 1976 and ’77; and begs us to remember the greatness of his favourite performers, Schnabel, Landowska and Elena Gerhardt. Decca offers a fascinating discography, reminding us of what we missed when Curzon, on the qui vive for possible imperfection, rejected recordings of Schumann, Chopin and Medtner.

Ranking with Solomon and Dame Myra Hess, Clifford Curzon was none the less a unique voice and presence.