The main item on this fourth instalment in Marin Alsop's Barber series is a big-boned, forceful rendering of the Piano Concerto (1960-62). Pianist Stephen Prutsman certainly has all the requisite technical armoury, but his tendency to force the tone quickly tires the ear. I'd also have welcomed a greater lyrical warmth as well as a more scrupulous observation of dynamic markings: for example, the demisemiquavers from four bars after fig 16 in the first movement (6'22") are not remotely pianissimo as marked.

For all Prutsman's outsize virtuosity, I prefer the patrician authority and shrewder expressive scope displayed by John Browning on his digital remake with Slatkin and the Saint Louis Symphony (formerly on Sony Classical Theta, Browning's dazzling, altogether more propulsive 1964 world première recording with Szell and the Clevelanders - 7/65 - is, sadly, unavailable at present). A pity, too, about the missing bar in the finale at two after fig 12 (1'59"). At bargain price, though, this newcomer still has its attractions, not least Alsop's pliant and purposeful accompaniment. The sound is immensely vivid, if a tad fierce.

Inscribed to the memory of Serge and Natalie Koussevitzky, and premièred by Munch and the Boston SO in December 1960, Die Natali remains a comparative rarity. It's a 17-minute essay akin to a fantasia on Christmas carols, as ingeniously worked as it is impeccably crafted, and affectionately given here.

The exhilarating Medea's Meditation and Dance of Vengeance receives a performance of considerable power and understanding, but Alsop and the hard-working members of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra are no real match for, say, Thomas Schippers and a vintage NYPO, whose searingly intense 1965 recording continues to knock all rivals into a cocked hat. That just leaves the 1943 Commando March for concert band, heard in its opulent guise for full orchestra and exuberantly delivered by Alsop and company.