The notes for this imaginative program begin by asserting that the genre of fantasia isn’t easy to define, but that’s a musicologist’s quandary. The fantasy element is up to the composer to decide, and if a work has the right combination of improvisation, virtuosity, and imagination, why not call it a fantasia? Audiences like the word and the flight of fancy it implies. Here the notable Scottish pianist Martin Cousin rings some unusual changes on the fantasia from four composers, two of them obscure, two world-renowned.

Kenneth Leighton (1929–1988) was a British composer-pianist whose music was unknown to me. He chose a daunting title, Fantasia contrappuntistica, to anyone looking for entertainment value, particularly if Busoni’s monumental work of the same name comes to mind. Like Busoni, Leighton takes Bach as the ne plus ultra of counterpoint, also reflected in movements titled Toccata, Chorale, Fuga I, and Fuga II. Like Busoni, Leighton presents a stern, serious aspect in this music.

The mood tends to be austere, but this isn’t an exercise in the neo-Baroque. Leighton has a modern harmonic sensibility wedded to traditional forms. By necessity the idiom is abstract but absorbing if you are willing to focus on the details of the fugues in particular. Cousin gives a confident, even authoritative, reading that is characterized by clear articulation and formal precision.

Leighton’s compatriot Lawrence Rose (b. 1943), who also wrote the program notes for this album, began his career as a lawyer before turning to full-time composition in 2001. My small acquaintance with his music gave me a strongly favorable impression. His Piano Fantasia from 2018 is dedicated to Cousin. It’s a substantial contribution in six movements, lasting 23 minutes. In the composer’s description, imagination takes precedence in this piece over conventional styles and form. There is a conventional theme and variations in the fourth movement, however, and continuity is provided by a repeated cadence at the end of each movement. But in toto Rose has attempted to create an imaginative arc held together by continuous organic development, something that is hard to achieve in an abstract idiom without melodic momentum. The cohesion of Piano Fantasia is relatively easy to follow by ear; Rose leaves identifiable signpost along the way. I can’t say that my attention was held over such a long span, but the composer’s skill and sincerity come across faithfully in Cousin’s assured performance.

On the virtuoso side, Cousin has previously recorded Rachmaninoff and Liszt as testimony to his technical command, but he has a decided style whose deliberation and lack of showiness has led to mixed reactions in Fanfare. Here the style is applied to Rachmaninoff’s very early Morceaux de fantaisie, op. 3, in which the 19-year-old genius shows his indebtedness to Tchaikovsky yet breaks into his own voice with the Prelude in C♯ Minor—it is still the piano piece by Rachmaninoff that someone is likely to know if they know only one.

Cousin displays all the assurance of a veteran who has made Rachmaninoff home territory, and the requisite rhapsody and Romantic feeling are conveyed even when the pieces tend to be simple by the standards of mature Rachmaninoff. The Prelude is given a deliberately unshowy reading without exaggeration, but I’d wish for more spontaneity—the whole set feels studied.

It’s rare for non-Spanish pianists to undertake Manuel de Falla’s late Fantasia Baetica from 1919—the title refers to the Latin name for Andalusia, sometimes rendered by the Spanish title Fantasía bética. The idiom is considered to be Andalusian, even though all the material is original with Falla. The piece demands almost unremitting virtuosity. It was commissioned by Arthur Rubinstein and premiered by him in New York before quickly being dropped from his repertoire. It was on the last public recital that Alicia de Larrocha gave, in Tokyo in 2003.

Of all the pieces on the program, the Falla strikes me as closest to my expectation that a fantasia contain all three elements of improvisation, virtuosity, and imagination. I admire Cousin for including it, and he has all the virtuosity required. As for sounding imaginative and Spanish, those qualities trail behind. I get something of the feeling I’d get if Claudio Arrau applied his self-seriousness to the music.

But listeners’ responses differ, naturally, and there’s nothing to take away from Cousin’s dedication and skill in these performances. This is a one-off release that brings the rewards of its original programming.