The Beethoven sonata is the forgotten sibling of the Moonlight, both subtitled Quasi una fantasia. Claudio Arrau’s conception unfolds in an atmosphere of Germanic profundity and high seriousness, revealed in fierce concentration as the narrative, as it were, unfolds. Though caressed by his famous ‘velvet’ tone, in almost every bar, one is aware of a certain striving for effect, of the intellect dominating the heart. Listen to Arthur Schnabel and the musical argument seems to flow spontaneously, organically, from his fingers, the naïve opening theme invested with irresistible charm, a quality that is not in Arrau’s arsenal. Listen, too, to Arrau’s way with the Sonata’s quasi-scherzo, marked Allegro molto e vivace not the Allegretto ponderoso reflected in the overall timings of the two artists: Schnabel 15’12”; Arrau 17’02”. It all depends on how you like your Beethoven.

The Schumann Fantasie (recorded on the same day) is another thing, a truly masterly account of high emotion and, yes, fantasy. Here Florestan and Eusebius are depicted not as two separate characters but inter-connected sides of Schumann’s personality. Even in the quieter passages, as Arrau observes, there is always an underlying turbulence. A mainstay of the pianist’s repertoire, this is a richly rewarding and mature reading.

Though not known for his forays into dodecaphonic territory, Arrau played not only Schoenberg’s Sechs kleine Klavierstücke, Op 19 and (more frequently) the Drei Klavierstücke, but also the Concerto. The Op 11 pieces will be valuable to Arrauphiles, for he made no commercial recording of them despite his ambition to do so and pair them with Busoni’s Toccata. With some tape hiss throughout, the release is completed by Bryce Morrison’s sympathetic booklet-notes in this label’s typically minuscule typeface.