I must confess that André Mathieu wasn’t even a name to me when I received this disc. Deliberately listening without further details, it had hints of Shostakovich without the dissonances, while occupying a vaguely Gallic sound world – sub-Poulenc without the emotional extremes, perhaps. In fact Mathieu was French-Canadian, a child prodigy dead before the age of 40. It’s pretty staggering to realise that the Second Concertino was written when he was just 12 (he wrote his first aged just seven), and that he premiered it himself – at Carnegie Hall, no less. The finest things in the piece are an affecting slow movement and a bold last-movement cadenza, which was only recently unearthed. Alain Lefèvre, who has been championing his fellow Québécois for some years now, plays it persuasively, but a masterpiece it is not.

Mendelssohn’s precocity is well documented and last year’s celebrations offered the chance to explore some of the more neglected byways. His Concerto for piano, violin and strings, written when he was 14, has a seriousness of intent that reminds us of his keen exploration of Beethoven at this time. Alain Lefèvre is joined by his violinist brother David, who displays a lovely, free technique, particularly effective in Mendelssohn’s demanding finale. For my own taste, the period-instrument version with Staier and Rainer Kussmaul (Teldec, 9/98) makes still more of this appealing work.

Shostakovich’s Concerto forms the centrepiece of the disc – it’s slightly disconcerting to have this followed by the Mendelssohn. There have been many outstanding performances over the years and to my mind this one is slightly too soft-centred: there isn’t enough bite in the phrasing of either soloist, while the Lento is prone to over-emoting. More thrilling, and more in keeping with Shostakovich’s style, are Kissin (RCA, 12/89) or Hamelin (Hyperion, 1/04), the former for his almost mechanistic brilliance, the latter for his dry wit.