Along with a host of fellow composer-pianists, Sergei Bortkiewicz left Russia in the early days of Bolshevik rule, ending up, in his case, in Vienna, and dying there in 1952 at the age of 75. He took with him the Silver Age style he had imbibed from his theory teacher Lyadov and the formal solidity instilled in him by Jadassohn in Leipzig. He clearly saw no reason to move on from the pleasantly fluent idiom of his First Piano Concerto of 1912 (Hyperion, 3/93). Indeed his First Symphony, dating from the autumn of 1934, could well be a conscious tribute to Tchaikovsky, so studded is it with homages to the latter’s themes and textures. But don’t expect any of the shock tactics, the sense of danger or the density of argument that make the originals so compelling. By comparison Bortkiewicz is one part vodka to twenty parts water.

The Second Symphony was composed around the same time as the First (Hyperion’s booklet notes have more to say about both the provocation for and reception of both works than the rather sparse details in the revised New Grove). This offers more of the same, though in a slightly less dilute dose. Like Grechaninov, for example, Bortkiewicz evidently felt that the language of the 1890s was still perfectly adequate for the world of the 1930s; and in a sense that point about the Russian émigré tradition is precisely the interesting thing. Not is there any denying Bortkiewicz’s strong craftsmanship and attractive thematic invention. Martyn Brabbins ensures that the few unpredictable moments register to the full, and his players stick admirably to their less than inspiring task. A few unresolved problems of balance remain, but recording quality is otherwise perfectly adequate.