These recordings of live broadcasts dating from 1968 79 tell us in no uncertain terms of Nelson Freire’s immaculate overall command, allied to a liberation granted to only the finest pianists. A late star in Decca’s firmament, Freire now looks back to a time when, as the accompanying interview has it, he was ‘a connoisseur’s pianist’, less well known to a wider public.

Disarmingly, he confesses to nervous tension during the tutti in what was his first performance of Chopin’s E minor Concerto, though all possible stress is dissolved in playing of a formidable assurance. Cool and elegant in Chopin, Freire then offers a surprise item, his one and only performance of Schumann’s Introduction and Allegro, where all awkward and unpianistic problems are resolved with ease. In Tchaikovsky’s First Concerto, Freire is too expert to be routine but here I longed for a more vivid and personal perspective. There are reminders, too, that speed does not always generate excitement.

Few reservations concern Freire’s Prokofiev First Concerto. You may miss the savage glint behind Richter’s virtuosity (with Karel Ančerl – Supraphon, 11/57) but there is a haunting sense of the slow movement’s achingly ‘blue’ idiom. Again, in Liszt’s Second Concerto the nuance and colouring at, for example, 3'57" are as remarkable as Freire’s final sprint to the finishing post. Finally, Rachmaninov’s Third Concerto, given with all of Freire’s facility and with a blast-off launch to the finale that will surprise those who think of this pianist as more sleek than impassioned. The orchestra under David Zinman hang on by the skin of their teeth.

These are not the sort of performances to prompt vivid metaphors. Yet there are several surprises from a pianist who has often kept emotion at arm’s length. Decca’s album is lavishly illustrated and, apart from the Tchaikovsky, sound and balance are outstanding. Freire’s Chopin, Schumann, Prokofiev and Rachmaninov are new to the catalogue.