The neurological condition of synaesthesia profoundly informs Scott Wollschleger’s piano-writing. Yet it’s not necessary to know that in order to appreciate the music’s organic flow, sonorous resourcefulness and evocative nature. The title selection that commences this programme makes telling use of register extremes, with low-lying clusters of chords that never sound thick or clotted. Tiny Oblivion evokes gentle strumming on a zither or koto. The deceptively simple melodic motifs throughout Music without Metaphor are spaciously deployed; their resonances are as important as their choice of notes.

Blue Inscription is a wistful study in slow‑moving chords. One could say the same about Lyric Fragment, where dyads in seconds and thirds unfold with contrasting dynamics. I only wish that the perky gestures that open Brontal No 2 would have returned more often in this work. On the other hand, Wollschleger contrasts the stark single-note textures of Brontal No 6 with varied articulations, dynamics and pedallings. Listening to the tremolos in the concluding composition, Secret Machine No 6, one wonders if Wollschleger subconsciously appropriated them from Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No 11.

Kudos to pianist Karl Larson, whose sensitivity and colouristic abilities allow him to enter, inhabit and internalise Wollschleger’s very special sound world, captured in a warm and ample recording. A beautiful release.