Both these discs (previously unissued in the UK) were made long before Thibaudet’s years at Decca, and the Liszt in particular is of an astonishing force and verve. Here he plays the virtuoso to the hilt and it is hardly surprising that his performance of the “Faust” Waltz caught the ear of Horowitz (“amazing, such dexterity, such technique, such articulation, such command. I could not do that today”). From the opening clarion call to attention to the central glittering cascades, Thibaudet gives us all his dry-ice sparkle and the sort of ear-tingling brilliance that quickly made him the envy of so many of his colleagues. True, there is a touch of impatience in Liszt’s more intimate pages (the six Consolations and Third Liebestraume) but elsewhere the overall mastery is stunning.

For Chopin, Thibaudet is suitably less overt and his selection of Nocturnes in particular makes you long for a complete set. His 24 Preludes, too, are full of character, bold and improvisatory in No 1 and, going against Chopin’s grain and piano instruction, loud and menacing in No 2. He brings all of his formidable technique to No 16’s brilliant fury and an imaginative touch of wistfulness to No 18, normally a cloudless flight into the blue. In his four chosen Waltzes he is notably convincing in the melancholy A minor and reels off the F major with all of his ultra-French brio. Both discs are well recorded but of the two the Liszt is the one to have. To quote some words – albeit in a very different context – by Robert Herrick, “O how that glittering taketh me.”