In 1968, the composer Robert Caby edited and published a number of Satie’s manuscript sketches and short pieces. He had been a friend of Satie’s in his last years, and there are no grounds for supposing that his action was taken out of anything other than a desire to do homage to a man and musician he greatly admired. But as Ravel was fond of saying: ‘Sincerity can never be an excuse.’ I feel I have to ask the blunt question: If these little pieces were not signed Erik Satie, would anyone bother with them?

My answer, for the most part, is no. The best I can say for them is that they give some clue as to Satie’s development over the early years of the 20th century. But such things are of interest primarily to scholars. The Carnet d’esquisses et de croquis consists of 22 pieces lasting on average a fraction over a minute each, and it was not until piece 19, ‘Petit prélude de La Mort de Monsieur Mouche’, that I was able to write, ‘Hurrah, a tune!’ Really, this is all pretty thin gruel, interspersed with sections of the notorious Vexations. This fades in and out, suggesting, in a nice enough conceit, that it’s continuing in the background. My biggest hurrah came with the seven miniatures of Le piège de Méduse – now here is genius indeed! For me, the ever-astounding final cadence of ‘Quadrille’ is worth most of the rest put together.

The piano sound is less than ingratiating. Steffen Schleiermacher plays it all fairly straight, which is a blessing. But I find myself somewhat in the position of the critic who, when Robert Casadesus chose a Mozart concerto for his American début in 1935 with the New York Phil, wrote: ‘M Casadesus is probably an excellent pianist, but it was hard to tell in this repertoire.’