The collective title of these piano pieces refers to the work of one of Wolfgang Rihm’s mentors, Stockhausen, whose influence can perhaps be heard in the earliest of the series – especially No 2. The programme notes don’t mention whether this is to be the first of a complete series of Rihm’s Klavierstücke, but the exclusive focus on early works (composed between 1970-80) suggests that it might. Bernhard Wambach needs no introduction as one of the foremost interpreters of new piano music, and throughout one feels oneself to be in safe hands. If there is not always quite as much shading as might be ideal (the lower, glowering half of the piano gets more play than the higher) the music itself tends not to deal in shades, except when violent contrasts tear through a texture. I suspect that Wambach makes the most of what he’s given.

Hardly a ringing endorsement, do you think? Well, while I have no hesitation in recommending this for the insight it sheds on the early creative stages of an important figure, I don’t find these glimpses very satisfying. Rihm’s discourse is often as shrill as his materials, and the violent stylistic jolts that can occur within the later pieces would be less grating had they been more dispassionately managed. As it is, one is so often (and so insistently) reminded of the music’s desired affective charge that scepticism – even irritation – creep in quite quickly. For what it’s worth, the first two pieces are more unified stylistically, but the argumentation is not more convincing for all that. Perhaps it is unfair to judge a composer still in his teens by the standard of his later, wilier self, but to retain them in his work-list inevitably invites the comparison. But I do hope that Wambach will continue this series, so that these uneven beginnings can be put in a more satisfying context.