If you can imagine a fusion of Fauré and César Franck, it goes part of the way to evoking the idiom of Jean Huré’s 40-minute Violin Sonata, completed in 1901 and published in its definitive form in 1920. The first movement, marked dramatique, shares – and even outdoes – the type of forceful rhetorical gestures in Franck’s own sonata, while some mollifying Fauré-like delicacies on occasion intervene to quell the storm. But Huré is not so easy to pin down stylistically. His harmony is exploratory; his melodic shapes, if largely unmemorable, at least sound like nobody else’s. In the milieu of Paris in the first decades of the 20th century, he clearly absorbed certain influences but was not particularly allied to any creative camp. At times in the sonata, this independence brings with it a lack of cohesion, as if Huré himself could not quite decide how he was going to make the four movements distinctive and yet craft an integral whole. The sonata, far from economical, is over-generous in its ideas, which fail fully to gel. The finale, especially, seems to lose its way, relying too heavily on a succession of big eruptive statements, but the passionate performance from Philippe Koch and Marie-Josèphe Jude does it proud.

The half-hour Piano Quintet of 1907-08 is more in control of its material, ardent and pastoral in equal measure, with a sort of modal rusticity and bucolic languor that lend the music individuality. But the neglect Huré has suffered is not altogether surprising.