Henry Litolff was, in spite of his European-sounding surname, born in Marylebone. He is remembered for that Scherzo, yet how ill-served he is by such a legacy. Hyperion has done sterling service with its recordings of his four extant Concertos symphoniques and now it presents the first two piano trios and the violin Serenade, all from around 1850, of which only the First Trio has previously been recorded.

The Leonore Trio have made something of a habit of exploring the byways of the trio repertoire but none is more worthwhile than this disc. You might anticipate that the keyboard would tend to dominate, given that Litolff was such a prodigious pianist, but that is absolutely not the case (though he makes huge technical demands ranging from powerful double-octave writing to the most dextrous of ornamentation). It is the cello that opens the First Trio in D minor, in quietly questioning mode before the driving energy of the movement proper. Litolff is clearly a master of form, using devices such as silence and reharmonisation to potent effect, while the main theme is reduced to just a fragment at the movement’s close. There are many highlights in this work, not least the concertante-like interplay between piano and strings in the easeful Andante, launched by a warm chorale in the piano, with the keyboard-writing getting ever more elaborate; or the Scherzo, which combines a Mendelssohnian élan with an iron-like strength – no wonder Liszt was so impressed by Litolff’s music. The finale sets off with a purposeful sense of the dance, the strings initially underlining the rhythm though later the violin has wonderfully airborne lines. Throughout the Leonore combine finesse with a palpable sense of enjoyment that is entirely engaging.

The Second Trio is on the whole a more laid-back affair. There’s the kind of generosity of spirit that we later find in Dvořák’s great chamber works, yet this doesn’t in any way pale in comparison. There’s much to delight in the first movement, which ranges from sheer charm to a surprising intensity in the development, which is again swept away by an upbeat ending. The second-movement Scherzo takes the form of a dance, introduced by violin, with the three players joshing with each other, the pizzicato and sul ponticello writing adding colour and zest. From here we move via a strikingly touching slow movement to a finale of lightning-quick energy, demanding the quickest of reflexes, an ear for accentuation and tremendous dexterity, all of which the Leonore deliver in spades. Add to this the simple charm of the Serenade, beguilingly played by Benjamin Nabarro, and a typically informative note by Jeremy Nicholas, and you have a winner.