Javier Perianes is an artist of richly lyrical gifts, which have stood him in good stead in repertoire such as Schubert and Mendelssohn. So I was intrigued to hear what he’d do with Chopin’s highly dramatic Second and Third Sonatas; he intersperses these with the Op 63 Mazurkas, which are by turns delightfully unpredictable, winsome with hints of nobility and emotionally restless.

He brings a thoughtfulness to the dramatic opening of the B flat minor Second Sonata and palpably enjoys the lyricism of the second theme. As Chopin develops this (from 1'24"), however, Perianes is perhaps too dreamy, though he manages to return to tempo in time for the dotted-rhythm passage (from 2'05"), which has a good energy to it. What I missed, however, was any real sense of underlying fury, as found in the likes of Freire and Argerich.

Again, it’s a matter of temperament, but I found Perianes’s Scherzo a little tame – though there’s some beautiful playing in the Trio, which is subtly voiced and with some pristine left-hand trilling. The way he re-energises the music to lead back into the Scherzo is also very classy, as is the reminiscence of the Trio at the close. The Funeral March impresses, though, particularly for the way that Perianes lets it speak for itself rather than imposing on it the stiff tread of state funerals of yore. Contrasting with it is an inner section that is simultaneously tender and restrained, and the fade away at the end is also beautifully managed. He brings to the finale that slippery, ungraspable quality that is so key to it. In this sense he occupies a middle ground between the more ‘fingery’ Freire and the more pedalled Argerich: not a bad place to be!

The tempo indication of the first movement of the Third Sonata is Allegro maestoso and Perianes is clearly alive to that second element, perhaps a little too much so, meaning that passages such as the nocturne-like melody that begins at 1'44" is less potent than when it emerges out of the churning unrest. This in the longer run means that there’s a lack of fraught danger to the movement, and the final chords don’t sound sufficiently hard-won, in contrast to Argerich (whichever account you hear), who conveys the movement’s edginess better than anyone. The Scherzo, though, is pitched just right: simultaneously febrile, strong and delicate, with the trio set in perfect contrast.

The remaining two movements throw up some reservations, however: I like the dramatic opening of the Largo but the melody itself is a little too spacious, notwithstanding the fine pianism on display. Argerich, at a slightly more flowing tempo, reveals more of the soul of the music. And the finale is a tad sedate, with Perianes more inclined to create majestic vistas, particularly compared to the malevolence of Freire’s vision or the irresistible headlong quality of Argerich’s.