The digital dissemination of classical music now means that worthy artists need not go unrecorded – as in generations past. However, there’s also nothing to deter ill-advised artists such as David Soar from releasing something that basically amounts to an audition recording. This 34-minute recital of music by Purcell, Mozart, Schubert and others shows Soar in hearty, robust voice, but one he uses pretty much the same way in all repertoire, and none too gracefully. His Italian language skills need work and one hopes that that coloratura technique in the Purcell selections is meant to be comedic.

The appeal here mainly lies with those who share Soar’s romance for the sea. Two minor mid-20th-century composers are brought out of obscurity, Frederick Keel (1871-1954) and C Armstrong Gibbs (1889-1960), both with sets of folk-flavoured art songs that conjure up visions of windjammers and the mythical Davy Jones. Keel in particular has moments of lyrical charm with poems by John Masefield, who lived on the sea and reflects these experiences on a first-hand basis. But for those of us who prefer looking at the sea from an aeroplane window, these songs aren’t so consequential and bring up long-dormant memories of 1950s Hollywood films based on Jules Verne stories. The music incorporates clichés from sea shanties but with just enough twists to distinguish themselves from the real thing.

It’s hard to know just how much Soar relishes the music because everything seems so non-specifically ham-fisted – a quality that seems undiscouraged by James Southall’s unsubtle accompaniment. As for the rest of the repertoire, the Schubert songs seem expressively vague, perhaps because he was composing to Italian words – not his first language. The Purcell songs show that composer at his earthiest in what are basically drinking songs, not dissimilar in spirit to the sea music. Therein may lie the problem: this is music to drink with, not to hear from a recording studio.