An imaginatively planned programme which showcases, as the album’s excellent annotator Robert Philip suggests, “the complete span of what is usually thought of as the Czech school of composition”, or maybe the “Czech family”, Smetana being the father, Martinu and Eben two of his most gifted sons. Martinu’s pleasantly diverting First Trio, subtitled Cinq pièces brèves, is very much of its time (1930), the third movement busily contrapuntal à la Hindemith, the fourth and fifth at times gently syncopated and with distant echoes of jazz. Eben’s relatively recent Trio (1986) is to my ears musically rather more gripping, its style aphoristic, restless and inward, the work of a man with a keen ear and a probing spirit. I love the way Eben fills musical rests with the retreating echoes of resonating piano chords (specifically in the first movement), and the impression of a chorale interrupted by conspiratorial chatter that dominates the third movement. This is the sort of score that the Florestans seem to relish, music full of subtle shades, many of them tucked carefully within subsidiary voices.

As to the Smetana, I’m always amazed at its conciseness: I always remember it as being on the same large scale as the Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov trios, but of course it isn’t. The reason for the illusion is I think the amount of thematic and colouristic contrast that Smetana packs into each movement and the impact that those contrasts have. It’s an immensely imposing piece, written in the wake of great personal loss, and the Florestans do it justice if not quite matching the red-blooded intensity of, say, the Oistrakh and Suk trios. My own view is that this music needs to wear a little more of its heart on its sleeve but those who disagree are unlikely to be disappointed. Still, all in all, this is an excellent programme, beautifully recorded.