Writing in the accompanying notes, Philippe Beaussant tells us that “playing Liszt on an old Pleyel…makes the music sound different, lends it an added fullness, a sweetness that the Steinway of today cannot produce. The result is more mysterious, more poetic music”. Here he is joined by pianist Patrick Scheyder (no biographical information is supplied) who similarly claims “the silvery sound of the Pleyel piano clearly recreates the composer’s wishes”. But this is surely so much wish-fulfillment. The sound of Scheyder’s 1846 piano bulges and wavers in such an alarming fashion that the attempt to evoke a sound or voice from the past is seriously qualified, largely because the instrument has so little sustaining power. This makes the legato and cantabile inseparable in Paysage, an étude in lyricism, virtually impossible to achieve, while the central section of Mazeppa becomes an oasis of plodding rather than relative calm. So while Scheyder leaves you in little doubt of his allegiance to Liszt’s multi-faceted genius, whether in dark introspection (Il penseroso), crazed exuberance (Mazeppa) or erotic musing (two of the three Liebesträume), the effect of all these ill-defined performances is strenuous and ungainly. This curious disc is strictly for the historic instrument lobby.