Despite the title, ‘Belle Époque’, this collection of mostly rare miniatures extends well beyond the temporal boundaries of the era. The selections range so widely, in fact, that the album might at first seem incoherent. True, pianist Joseph Moog suggests that the programme is unified by the presence of nostalgia and the ‘sense of foreboding’ that were promoted by the rapid pace of technological and social change at the time. But while there’s plenty of nostalgia and foreboding elsewhere in the music of the period, those traits don’t seem central here. Certainly, there’s nothing in this recital to match the loss we hear in Rachmaninov’s Prelude Op 32 No 10 (the melancholy of the Bortkiewicz ‘Consolation’ is pale by comparison), much less the looming menace that marks Ravel’s ‘Scarbo’.

But there are two interlocking qualities that hold the recital together. First, with respect to the repertoire: as signalled by the decision to offer Godowsky’s hyperbolic elaboration of ‘Triana’ rather than Albéniz’s already intricate original, Moog has an inclination towards the ornate. Few of these works are titled études; but most of them could be, given the consummate fingerwork necessary to untangle their fast-moving accompaniments and complex embellishments. It’s no surprise, then, that Moog has included Ravel’s Jeux d’eau rather than the Pavane pour une infante défunte, although the latter is more nostalgic – or that the most regretful work in the collection, Poulenc’s ‘Mélancolie’, is as notable for its constant washes of semiquavers as for its bittersweet melody.

Second, with respect to the performances: Moog, as usual, uses his blazing technique – his digital dexterity, his meticulous articulation, his unerring balances – to make the most of the music’s textural ingenuity, miraculously neutralising the potential for thickness. Even in the Kreisler/Rachmaninov and the Albéniz/Godowsky, the details ring out clearly. You might worry that such precision would result in detachment – especially since Moog has sometimes been charged with flattening nuances (see Patrick Rucker’s review of his Liszt Sonata – Onyx, 12/19). And there are, in fact, moments where more warmth would be welcome – more sultriness in ‘Triana’, more sensuality in the Ravel. But as is clear from the exquisitely shaped sprays of notes in Bonis’s portrait of Mélisande, the light-fingered carbonation of the Rosenthal, the jazzy swing of the Sibelius, the exuberance of the Chaminade and the eloquent rubato throughout, this recital has stimulated Moog’s Romantic side, too. An unusually rewarding release.