The latest release from the British pianist Daniel Grimwood explores music by Robert and Clara Schumann and Liszt, using an exquisite 1856 piano from Érard’s London factory. Now in the collection of the University of York, this straight-strung grand piano has been restored by Nigel Scaife, and for this recording it is tuned to a non-equal temperament. In order to realise his interpretations as fully as possible, Grimwood served as both the recording’s producer and sound engineer. Those familiar with Romantic-era performance practice will know that, well into the 20th century, pianists often prefaced their performances with a sort of improvisatory warm-up, a practice called ‘preluding’. Grimwood preludes before each of the three pieces by the Schumanns, as well as before the Liszt Consolation.

Carnaval gets off to a rousing start with brisk tempos, a vivid tone palette and varied articulation. Grimwood robustly arpeggiates chords and Schumann’s repeats are scrupulously observed throughout. A wonderful sense of fun and abandon is conjured in pieces such as ‘Arlequin’, ‘Estrella’ and ‘Reconnaissance’. Schumann’s vaunted ‘inner voices’ are beautifully elucidated in the ‘Valse noble’, ‘Eusebius’ and ‘Chiarina’, and his quirky sense of dialogue is perfectly captured in ‘Promenade’. There are occasions, however, such as in ‘Pierrot’, where Grimwood curiously construes crescendo as accelerando. Elsewhere his normally laudable sense of rhythmic spontaneity can lead to confusion, as in ‘Florestan’, ‘Pantalon et Columbine’ and ‘Pause’, while the ‘Davidsbündler’ finale grows a little hectic. These are but head-scratches in a fundamentally bracing and courageous performance.

That said, reservations surface early in the Liszt Sonata, as Grimwood chooses to split the descending octaves in the opening measures, an expressive device that seems out of place in so dark and mysterious an atmosphere. When the second theme is announced, marked by Liszt grandioso (3'20"), Grimwood pounds the accompanying repeated chords at what sounds like a prestissimo. When the same theme is presented as single chords in the minor (10'00"), marked pesante (‘heavy’ or ‘weighty’), they are inexplicably arpeggiated. And one could go on.

But this misses the point. To date, very few pianists of Grimwood’s gifts and curiosity have ventured into mainstream repertory using historical instruments, much less with a view towards what is known about 19th-century performance practice. Careful and perhaps repeated listening to these performances provides striking insights.