Freddy Kempf’s previous instalment of solo Prokofiev (with Sonatas Nos 1, 6 and 7 and some early works) in 2003 was warmly received by Bryce Morrison, who lavished particular praise on the Toccata. It seems that the enfant terrible Prokofiev, and his ‘Toccata-ness’ (as Russians like to put it) in particular, are still a great fit for Kempf’s temperament, because he relishes the exuberance and nervous energy of the single-movement Third Sonata, though in fact some steelier colours would by no means have harmed the head-over-heels, forward-looking drive of Prokofiev’s rocket-like departure from the old world. The ebullient finale of the Eighth Sonata is also as buoyant and exciting as could be.

Here and elsewhere Kempf is a master at layering textures. But the Jekyll-and-Hyde characters of the Ninth Sonata are better captured when the colouristic range is wider. Whether this has to do with a quest for unity, I don’t know, but the result is mere uniformity – hear Melnikov for a far more creative response to Prokofiev’s enigmatic mood swings. Still, the biggest let-down of the disc is Kempf’s matter-of-fact approach to the first two movements of the mighty Eighth. Gramophone readers hardly need to be directed yet again to the classic Richter, but even among mere mortals there are far more developed dramatic narratives to be found. Compare the opening pages from Melnikov, Kozhukhin or Yuja Wang, where each change of harmony and turn of phrase is subtly pointed and nurtured. Here and throughout the movement Kempf sounds metronomic and blunt. The recording quality is fine but in terms of Prokofiev interpretation the disc is only a mixed success.