I would have passed this release by (“Who is Matt Dibble?”) were it not for the presence of Freddy Kempf. (“Well, if Kempf is playing Dibble’s music, then there must be something to it.”) It would be nice to report that this is a revelation, but it is not, although Dibble’s music is of more than peripheral interest.

Dibble died in 2021 at the age of 40, “due to complications following the Astra Zeneca Covid-19 vaccination,” according to Divine Art’s website. These 24 preludes and fugues, the work of six years, were completed shortly before his death, and “it was one of Matt’s last wishes that Freddy would record this music.” And so it came to be during the summer of 2022.

So who was Matt Dibble? A native Londoner, he was a multitalented composer and performer (both voice and instruments) who worked in a variety of musical genres, from popular and jazz to classical. Did the range of his talents work against him, in terms of renown? Well, as a member of the band Super dB, he had a No. 2 single (“Kool Funk”) on the UK soul chart in 2021, so it is not as if he was obscure, although his various fanbases might well have been unaware of each other.

As I’ve written before, in the spirit of Supreme Court Justice Stewart, I don’t know what classical music is, but I know it when I hear it, and Dibble’s Preludes and Fugues pass the test, although some of them are in jazzy or other pop-adjacent styles, without quite being jazz or pop-adjacent. This is, have no doubt, adult music. Like Bach, he has composed a paired prelude and a fugue for each of the major and minor keys, although unlike Bach, they are sequenced according to the circle of fifths, with major and minor pairs alternating. Only a few of the preludes and fugues last longer than three minutes. I am impressed that a composer living and active in the present century devoted six years to a “retro” idea we associate with Bach and Shostakovich. I would not be surprised if these works come to be used in a didactic setting. (You’re not a real classical pianist unless you excel in playing in every key.) They are, for the most part, not flashy, and as I’ve already indicated, not lengthy. And there, I think, is the rub. While different musical styles pass by in this set, from neo-Baroque to modern jazz (no “kool funk” that I could discern), Dibble’s musical default here is an amiable tunes-with-wrong-notes moderato style, if you will, and at times a sameness sets in. Time will elapse and then you will realize that several preludes and fugues have passed in front of your ears without your having noticed the transitions. The fairly uniform lengths of the individual pieces contribute to this. However, every so often Dibble surprises us with something that sounds completely unlike what came before it and what comes after it. Prelude No. 16, for example, happily evokes a barcarolle, with its gentle rocking rhythm and its rolled chords in the right hand. Prelude No. 19 (“Samarkand”) is exotic, with slashing, dramatic syncopations. I can imagine it being an effective encore at the end of many recitals. Too bad it lasts only 1:49. Prelude No. 21 starts prettily, and in time (not very much time!) morphs into an echo of the C-Major prelude that opens Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier. Again, I think this miniature would be welcome almost anywhere, so I think Dibble’s music has the ability to penetrate the classical music mainstream, but only for minutes at a time, not in a 111-minute block. It will be interesting to see if Kempf himself keeps any of these works in his recital repertory.

There’s no criticizing his playing on this disc. Although I did not know this music previously, of course, Kempf’s performances sound definitive to me. The piano, not identified, was recorded at the University of York.

There’s a good booklet note, and if you want even more information about Dibble, including a documentary, and video of Kempf playing the music, there is a QR code one can scan. (Too bad I’m one of thosepoor benighted individuals who does not have a Smartphone, and probably never will!)