‘Greater than Horowitz, he combines the precision of a metronome with the electrical discharge of a thunderstorm.’ Such was the initial response to György Cziffra (1921-94) and his meteoric arrival on the European concert scene during the ’50s. I well remember a Festival Hall recital where, as a seemingly phantom presence – his head and shoulder caught in a spotlight (all other illumination extinguished, in open defiance of fire regulations) – he drove his capacity audience into a state of frenzy. His Chopin may have suited his alternating ultra-virtuosity and languor less easily than his Liszt, and it was chiefly in Liszt that he made his reputation.

But musical fashions change quickly and cruelly, and Cziffra’s hallmark rapid crescendos and decrescendos within the bar (almost as if a grenade had been tossed into the piano), combined with increasing idiosyncrasy and distortion, lost their appeal as his audiences turned to more classic styles. Within a short period, prompted by disillusionment and personal tragedy, Cziffra retired into seclusion.

Dynamic’s disc includes Liszt’s four major works for piano and orchestra taken from live Italian broadcasts dating from 1958-60, and even when the sound is dim and dated it hardly erases a unique charisma. Here, and particualrly in the Hungarian Fantasy, nothing is set in stone; everything sounds improvised, gypsy-style, on the spot. And if such playing was derided it was largely by those who envied a command beyond their wildest dreams. Could it be that Cziffra was the closest to Liszt’s own style, a pianist of transcendental brilliance and a daring virtually unknown today?