The Russian piano prelude owes almost as much to Scriabin as it does to Rachmaninov: numerically speaking, in fact, even more. Scriabin’s 90 examples cover his entire career, providing snapshots of an evolving musical language from affectionate obeisances to Chopin all the way to post-tonal apocalyptic visions. The transitions, as Alexeev’s survey of these miracle miniatures persuasively reveals, are surprisingly seamless. In fact the rupture with tonality is so gradual that it is only in the 1910 Prelude from the Two Morceaux, Op 59, that the ‘lightness of being’ typical of Scriabin’s ‘late’ period fully registers. If the early preludes are short poems, the later ones are open-ended sentences, until gradually punctuation marks dissolve into thin air.

In this third instalment in his survey of Scriabin’s complete piano works, Alexeev’s temperamental affinity once again comes paired with sovereign command of colours and intonations (in the Russian sense of musical eloquence). Giving the music its due quota of caprice and volatility, he never deviates into aggression or superficiality, conveying instead an overall impression of humane dignity and a powerful sense of journey. Piers Lane’s highly regarded complete Preludes are the obvious modern comparison. But take, for instance, the intimate, melancholic and deceptively simple Op 16 No 4 (1895), where Alexeev subtly speaks and sighs through every note, leaving Lane sounding under-inflected and over-literal.

Allowance needs to be made for some tinniness in the piano’s high treble. And Alexeev is quite a grunter (but then Lane is almost as conspicuously a heavy breather). There is also one controversial detail in Alexeev’s depiction of Scriabin’s last completed work, Op 74 No 2, where he takes the indication très lent, contemplatif more to heart than any other performer I have heard. This undoubtedly helps him to showcase his remarkable tonal control and subtlety of voicing, and it chimes with Scriabin’s reported description of this prelude as depicting ‘fatigue, exhaustion … for all eternity, for millions of years …’. Still, Alexeev’s decision to repeat the entire piece may raise eyebrows: I wonder whether it has some sanction or is just a personal initiative.

Matthieu Idmtal’s Op 8 Études and Op 11 Preludes are grunt-free but the over-resonant recording makes it hard to hear much of anything clearly. Idmtal is evidently technically well endowed and able to tame all the fiery dragons of the Études. He is also possessed of a sensitive soul. Over-sensitive, perhaps, because his habitual pushing and pulling of the lines tips some of these pieces over into the world of French salon music: more affected than effective, in short. The Pavane disc offers no biographical note and forgets to list track numbers in the booklet.