Impressive technical proficiency and conscientious preparation characterise Mark Swartzentruber’s pianism. But a consummate command of the keyboard is not matched by a consuming desire to probe deeply. His rather dispassionate view of most of the music is exemplified by his approach to No 62. Haydn’s largest sonata is impressive in its mixture of grandeur and quirkiness, but Swartzentruber sees only a part of its character. He doesn’t, for instance, acknowledge the humour inherent in the rickety rhythm of the second subject in the first movement whereas Alfred Brendel relishes its wit, particularly when the theme reappears in an extreme key in the development. And his richly inflected slow movement draws out the drama that Swartzentruber rather overlooks.

The limiting factor throughout is an inhibited response to fluctuating frames of mind within movements. Swartzentruber also tends to use the pedal for a continuous flow rather than to sharpen variety and heighten tension. He hints rather than enunciates, subduing the roguishly droll elements of the first movement of No 44 and spinning out the Vivace molto finale of No 53 as a sort of perpetuum mobile, scarcely recognising the contrasts inherent in the shifts from E minor to E major. András Schiff offers a comprehensive view of this work, though Swartzentruber is communicative in the slow movement. The serious side of Haydn often evokes the best in him; a pity that he misses out on the fantasy and a sense of wonder. Tony Faulkner’s engineering is excellent, the sound nicely balanced between ambience and immediacy.