The Norwegian pianist-composer Thomas Dyke Akland Tellefsen (1823‑74) was a pupil of Chopin in the 1840s – and very much liked to bill himself as such. He writes appealing, well-proportioned short works that one forgets as soon as one has heard them. Simax presents them in strict chronological opus-number order. His themes (or, more commonly, motifs) are not unattractive but are not the kind that make you sing and can’t get out of your head. Many sound like pastiche Chopin, his Marche funèbre, Op 16 No 3, laughably so. Struggling to find his own voice, he all too often falls between two stools.

Yet even before the opus numbers climb into double figures, there are glimpses of a composer striking out on his own: Elégie, Op 7, written in 1852 in memory of the Swedish Prince Gustav, is a beautiful meditation which includes the chorale ‘Wer weiss, wie nahe mir mein Ende’, a device Chopin would never have used. Such independence is reflected in his two contemporaneous piano concertos, both worthy of inclusion in Hyperion’s Romantic Concerto series had they not already been recorded splendidly by the present pianist. Tellefsen’s Sonata (a modest achievement but with an affecting Adagio and catchy 6/8 rondo finale), the Six Mazurkas, Op 14, an impressive Grande Polonaise in C sharp minor, Op 18, and other works are well worth hearing – that is until you reach CD 4. This has a handful of student works and another 36 assorted bits and bobs from unpublished manuscripts. They are played on an 1853 Érard and are of interest only to the hardiest Tellefsen pianoraks.

Just as Tellefsen’s muse is uneven in inspiration, so are Einar Steen-Nøkleberg’s playing and Simax’s sound which, perhaps because the 52 tracks were recorded at different times in 2009, changes focus, sometimes from item to item. It takes a while for the ear to adjust to the empty ballroom acoustic with close miking, the antithesis of, say, Hyperion’s cool clarity. Also, the (unnamed make of) modern concert grand on which discs 1‑3 are played has a penetrating, resonant bass register which Einar Steen-Nøkleberg is all too happy to exploit. He can be heavy-handed, over-emphasising the down-beat of a fermata or phrase-ending as though he were announcing the conclusion of the piece; frequently he likes to hover at the climax of a phrase before continuing a tempo, an exaggerated rubato that can be highly effective but only if used sparingly.

These distractions are particularly apparent on disc 1 and some items on disc 3; on disc 2 the recorded sound is generally – but not exclusively – less in-your-face, Steen-Nøkleberg’s phrasing and dynamics more subtly graded, the pedal action less noticeable. At his best, he turns in some remarkably fine performances, his tonal colouring, flashes of bravura and imagination more pronounced than Hubert Rutkowski on his selection of four titles on Naxos (though I prefer the latter’s recorded sound), the kind of musical engagement that comes with a 50-year relationship with the music. The whole project is handsomely presented with an excellent 47-page booklet in Norwegian, English and French. ‘I have given my very soul to bring [Tellefsen] into the light in the year 2011’, writes the pianist, with the hope that ‘these pieces will be played by many a young musician’.