Composed in 1955, the manuscript of Sorabji’s two-hour-plus Toccata terza had been missing for decades when it was rediscovered in 2019. Pianist Abel Sánchez-Aguilera then took on the Herculean tasks first of preparing a critical edition and then of learning this behemoth. Like most of Sorabji’s marathon-length concoctions, Toccata terza is packed to the brim with daunting textural and polyrhythmic complexities that not only have to be played accurately but must also be voiced and balanced to multi-dimensional effect. Think of Godowsky and Busoni fuelled by amphetamines and steroids, trying to outdo one another writing long pieces, and you’ll get what Sorabji is about.

There’s a lightness and playfulness throughout the opening Movimento vivo that seems to gravitate around C major, in contrast to the dense acres of chromatic sludge one often gleans from this composer. Part of this is due to Sánchez-Aguilera’s supple navigation of the rapid scales and clotted chords, plus the transparency resulting from his discreet pedalling. In contrast, the second-movement Adagio builds in slow motion from poignant single notes to chords that are so massive they make Messiaen sound like Cherubini. Next is a 48-minute Passacaglia, whose form is actually quite easy to follow. Again, Sánchez-Aguilera’s artistry helps make this possible through the variety of character he brings to each variation, from the clipped effect of No 9’s accented two-note phrase groupings and sweeping litheness of Nos 15 and 16 to the pianist’s impressive control of No 42’s difficult two-handed leaps in opposite directions. Yes, the movement probably goes on too long for what it has to say, but that’s generally true of all Sorabji passacaglias.

After a rather padded and musically inconsequential cadenza, the Quasi fugato movement is actually a large-scale and judiciously proportioned fugue, where Sánchez-Aguilera’s lucid layout of the linear perspectives holds interest. The little Corrente that follows is less of a baroque dance than a sensually interpreted two-part invention that floats in and out of all registers. In the final four movements, Sorabji gathers momentum with the work’s most volatile and inherently dramatic keyboard-writing, which builds to a climax and ultimately decompresses in the Epilogo’s final pages.

Sorabji fans familiar with Sánchez-Aguilera’s premiere recording of the composer’s earlier and more stylistically convoluted Toccata seconda (1933‑34) may find the present work more accessible. Certainly this pianist commands the technical wherewithal for going beyond reams of notes in pursuit of the music, along with his affinity for and gigantic commitment to Sorabji’s aesthetic. His articulate booklet notes and Piano Classics’ superb engineering add value to a release that is likely not to face serious catalogue competition – although one never knows, given all the superpianists coming out of the woodwork these days!