Having already paid tribute to the many celebrated students of Tobias Matthay, APR continues with a two-disc set reminding you of many others, the majority long lost to musical attention. Matthay (Moura Lympany’s beloved ‘Uncle Tobs’) was held in awe and affection (the two do not always go together). That he was also a fine pianist who kept his playing in more than trim is illustrated in performances of his own charming compositions, recordings that suitably open and close a fascinating album. At the same time, I have to say that this wide-ranging selection of pianists (many of their performances issued on record for the first time) often shows that all that glitters can be more paste than gold. Too often a light, skittering brilliance does service for deeper virtues. This may well prompt reflection on the limited recording techniques of the time (as Eileen Joyce, another Matthay pupil, ruefully put it, ‘you had to be quick off the mark in those days’) plus the lighter action of pianos of the time. And yet there is so much to relish and to delight.

Of the two discs, the first is the more interesting, with a performance of Bach’s Two-Part Inventions by Denise Lassimonne (a clear favourite of Matthay’s) taking pride of place. Diamond chippings from the master’s workshop, they are given with an immaculate dexterity that never ignores a still centre at the heart of so much teeming vitality. Irene Scharrer, as on a previous Hyperion issue, shows herself a scintillating virtuoso who should never have slipped from view. Her Schumann G minor Sonata is bereft of its slow movement and has only a truncated version of the finale. But the playing is gloriously effervescent and in the middle section of the Schubert A flat Impromptu she gives us all the necessary subtle and dark colouring.

On the second disc, Nina Milkina’s Scarlatti, too, combines a matchless alternating verve and reflection with character and resource, helping you to forget Ray Lev’s brash, depth-charge manner in Schumann’s final Novelette, Harriet Cohen’s far from seductive ‘Danza de la seducción’ (Turina) or Raie Da Costa’s coarse if exuberant manner in Liszt’s Rigoletto Paraphrase. Bruce Simond’s Schubert B flat Impromptu is sad and lethargic, and yet overall these records provide an invaluable and fascinating glimpse into the past. Mark Obert-Thorn’s remastering is a superb achievement and this lavishly illustrated album comes with a long and detailed essay (even when it is a bit of a rave-up regarding the pianists) by Stephen Siek.