York Bowen (1884-1961) became the cruel victim of passing and dismissive fashion, his lovingly crafted, lyrically haunting ideas swept aside. Yet only a puritan could resist his magical daydreams, with their glowing and personal remembrance of past ages (notably of Chopin and Rachmaninov). Busoni’s description of Liszt’s ‘La ricordanza’ étude as being ‘like a packet of yellowed love letters’ could equally apply to much of Bowen’s piano-writing.

On record, Stephen Hough’s dazzling réclame (Hyperion, 6/96) was followed by Joop Celis’s complete cycle (Chandos) and Danny Driver’s set of the six piano sonatas (Hyperion, 12/09), and now comes a deeply affectionate tribute from Cristina Ortiz. Her performance of the 24 Preludes has all the love and freshness of a recent discovery. And, whether in her supple grace and fluency in the gorgeous seventh Prelude or in the sombre magnificence of No 24, you will hear playing quite without the hard edge of the over-seasoned virtuoso but a charm and fluency that create their own moving, poetic ambience. The exquisite Berceuse and the Barcarolle from the Op 30 Suite could hardly be given more insinuatingly, and when you hear Ortiz in the ‘Moto perpetuo’ from the Suite mignonne you will marvel at such musical empathy, backed by an immaculate dexterity. A more endearing case for Bowen would be hard to imagine.