Orozco could scarcely have coupled two more different larger keyboard works by this composer than the virtuosic, extrovert Wanderer of 1822 and the last, intimately personal B flat Sonata written only two months before he died. This is emphasized here by Orozco's deeply felt, searchingly introspective approach to the sonata's first two movements. From the very first bar he conveys the mystery and visionary wonderment of the opening Molto moderato, and though he hastens the tempo and tautens the rhythm when tension mounts, he never long allows you to forget Schubert's alleged remark at this time: ''somehow I feel that I no longer belong to this world''. To convey the desolation of the Andante sostenuto he chooses a slow tempo—slow enough to sound almost static at the reprise of the opening theme after the middle section. But this movement, too, is very acutely experienced. The Scherzo does not quite match up to Schubert's requested Allegro vivace con delicatezza: it needs to be faster, lighter and crisper. But the finale is well characterized, with some persuasive spotlighting of left-hand melody in the first episode.
The Wanderer's flanking movements emerge big and bold rather than fiery. In the Scherzo I would again have liked more tingling rhythm, not least in its waltzing Trio. The slow movement is expressively sung. Alongside rivals like Curzon, Brendel and Perahia (to mention but three—on Decca, Philips and CBS/Sony Classical respectively), not then a first choice in either work, but nevertheless genuine enough to remind us of why Orozco once triumphed at the Leeds Competition—here with natural sounding keyboard reproduction.'