To choose the last three Beethoven sonatas as your debut recording might be seen as headstrong, but the last five? That bespeaks, at worst, reckless arrogance, at best, a quiet confidence. Igor Levit is Sony’s latest signing: Russian-born, Austrian- and German-schooled, all of 26 years old and currently a BBC New Generation artist.

And it quickly emerges that this is neither reckless nor arrogant but a debut of true significance. Everywhere you turn, you encounter thoughtfulness, an utter engagement with the composer and a clear sense of Levit’s personality, though never in a shouty ‘look at me, I’m playing the Hammerklavier fugue’ sort of way. Though, while on that subject, his fugue is pretty spectacular: he brings across the iconoclastic element of this movement but also an unfailing sense of clarity of structural thinking. And while the fugue subject itself has plenty of incision, it’s never aggressive, while in the quieter passages he produces some lustrously pearlescent playing.

And even when you might find yourself disagreeing with this or that interpretative detail – arguably there are moments of the Op 111 variations that are perhaps a little slow for my taste, while the opening of Op 109 is perhaps a little studied (compared, at least, to the inimitable Hess) – the sheer conviction of Levit’s playing is mesmerising. In the finale of the same E major Sonata, the way he sustains the line and builds the momentum is judged to a nicety.

The physical aspects of late Beethoven are dispatched, perhaps unsurprisingly, with great energy and panache. But there’s nothing merely gung-ho about this pianist’s approach: the opening of Op 106 is strongly contoured but also hugely febrile, with plenty of air in the textures.

What really makes this recording special, though, is Levit’s way with the slower movements. The short Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll of Op 101 is gloriously haloed, more of a piece, mood-wise, than the highly reactive Guy in his newer cycle; Levit reaches an almost unbearable intensity, before leading into the finale, via the reminiscence of the opening, utterly naturally. And while he doesn’t go for Solomon’s heavenly lengths in the slow movement of Op 106 – he’s more akin to Goode temperamentally – he’s every bit as intense as Guy in his first recording for Naïve.

Add to that a warm yet detailed recording and you have something of a triumph. Hats off to Sony, too, for bagging themselves yet another tremendous pianist, to keep Volodos and Andsnes company. I could go on and on about this recording but the best thing is to hear it for yourself.