Lucien Durosoir (1878-1920) began his musical life as a concert violinist but his career was interrupted – and indeed ruined – by the First World War, during which he spent a considerable period as a soldier (under stress) with André Caplet, who encouraged him on his return to civilian life to turn to composition. This recording offers his limited but remarkable output for his own instrument, for which he writes hauntingly and with total freedom. Indeed, although these works partner piano and violin perfectly, one often feels that in the melodic interplay each instrument seems to move independently. The memorable two-movement Sonata opens with pensive melancholy but is soon energetically inventive in its abundance of ideas, quixotic in its harmonic shifts and rhythmic impulses. The second movement doesn’t greatly change momentum or style.

Oisillon bleu trills in a semi-delirium of ear-tickling unpredicability, while Rêve is meditative. The Nocturne is more troubled in feeling than one would expect from its title, but calm at the close. The early Légende is a brief reverie born over a rising scale, but has a short, more turbulent middle section, and the other miniatures, the rapturous Chant élégiaque and the lovely, gentle Prière à Marie are late works full of exquisite tenderness. Then the delightfully varied Cinq Aquarelles have such instant appeal that they should find their way into the main repertoire.

The performances are very persuasive. Geneviève Laurenceau, often playing with great delicacy, creates a lovely timbre, subtly coloured, and Lorène De Ratuld is a wholly sympathetic partner. They are beautifully recorded and the balance is remarkably well managed. The recital ends with a brief comment (in French) from the composer. A disc well worth exploring: Durosoir is a name to reckon with.