Neither quill nor leather-covered hammer vibrates a string. Rather a wooden slip does duty for a tangent piano, its strident tones reminiscent of an enlarged harpsichord. And fit to conjure the viciousness at Golgotha in the Introduction and the force of the Earthquake at the end. But the rest? Originally commissioned as a work for orchestra, Haydn used its potential for tonal colour, plastic articulation, subtle dynamic gradations and variety of accent to characterise closely the Words of a tormented man at the point of death. Alexei Lubimov’s mastery of notes is impressive, his command of an expressive elasticity that shapes the notes much less so. Despite the use of moderator and sustaining pedal to ease the jangle, a percussive instrument remains percussive.

Stark timbres in Sonata 1 rather sets a pattern, the opening six softly staccato quaver octaves too loud and evenly stressed, dynamic shifts from fz to p ignored, implicit pleading obscured. Sonata 2 is neither reflective nor consoling, Sonata 3 wooden and shorn of nobility. But Lubimov is better able to convey the drama of desperation and desolation in Sonata 4 and the harsh anger at the offer of vinegar mixed with gall in Sonata 5. Closest to pathos is Sonata 7, a performance of greater contrasts, un-damped notes used to evocative effect. In general, though, Lubimov’s feel for imagery and poetry is limited. If you need this keyboard transcription – by an anonymous hand – John McCabe (piano) is a finer proposition.