Bells and birds seem to be the subtext of Momo Kodama’s recital but her playing does not consistently ring out or take wing. In Miroirs, all the notes of ‘Noctuelles’ transpire accurately and sensitively but where is the suppleness and animation served up by Steven Osborne or Herbert Schuch? Nor do the rippling, deceptively difficult arpeggio sweeps of ‘Une barque sur l’océan’ convey the effortless sheen that we almost can take for granted today. Yes, Kodama easily tosses off the murderous repeated notes of ‘Alborada del gracioso’ but there’s barely a sign of life to the snappy rhythms and smouldering gestures. Her two-dimensional though well-controlled fingerwork in ‘La vallée des cloches’ pales when measured against Arthur Rubinstein’s expansive, subtly textured recording, let alone Walter Gieseking’s hazy magic. Only ‘Oiseaux tristes’ rises to the competition.

Takemitsu’s Rain Tree Sketch stands out for Kodama’s beautiful internal balances and melodic awareness. The pianist fares best in the lengthy Messiaen work. Despite an overly close-up recording, Kodama clearly and intelligently scales the composer’s wide palette of constantly shifting dynamics, while bringing a degree of crispness and definition to the rapid, chattering passagework that surpasses even Peter Hill’s cultured, meticulous rendition (Unicorn – nla), and radically differs from Anatol Ugorski’s headlong, Lisztian flourishes. Hans-Klaus Jungheinrich’s booklet-notes combine useful musical background information and pompous philosophising.