What’s in a name? Michael Collins’s debut recital disc for EMI (9/92) was part of the label’s Virtuosi series and opened with Schumann’s Op 73 Fantasiestücke. Now recording for Chandos, Collins has two recital series running. You might think the Fantasiestücke would qualify for ‘The Virtuoso Clarinet’, but instead it opens the second volume of ‘The Lyrical Clarinet’ instead. I’m slightly uneasy about these titles – surely we’re not aiming for ‘mood music’ here? – but whatever it says on the tin, it’s good news that Chandos is busily recording the UK’s leading clarinettist in this repertoire.

The Fantasiestücke are a favourite recital opener with many a player. Gentle charm unfurls from each movement without exacting the clarinettist too much. Collins’s approach has changed little from his EMI recording. He’s a touch more expansive but his tone is still warm and rounded. Michael McHale is just as responsive as Kathryn Stott in the more fiery third movement.

Apart from the Schumann, this disc finds Collins wandering off the beaten track in search of repertoire in lyrical vein. Three John Field Nocturnes are scattered through the disc, all rippling piano accompaniments over which the clarinet floats without a cloud in the sky to block the moonbeams. The most substantial piece is the Sonata by the Argentinian composer Carlos Guastavino, sometimes known as ‘the Schubert of the Pampas’. Collins handles the second movement’s long phrases tenderly, while the Rondo finale, with its folksong theme, is delightfully sunny.

Chausson’s Andante et Allegro offers contrasting movements, the Allegro allowing Collins to demonstrate nimble fingerwork and virtuoso upward leaps without any hint of a scramble. The ‘Méditation’ from Massenet’s Thaïs is there as a tender lollipop. Indeed, France is well represented, with Ravel’s slinky Habanera and Debussy’s Petite pièce, written as a sight-reading test, joined by Jean Françaix, whose piece flickers and darts through a series of variations before its typically high-spirited, jokey Prestissimo finale.

Guastavino and Françaix’s contributions were composed in the early 1970s – demonstrating, according to Roger Nichols’s booklet-notes – ‘that there was still a place for the lyrical clarinet’.