Apparently everything needs a title these days. Superficially ‘The Wanderer’ might appear to relate rather more closely to the Schubert Fantasy than to the sonatas by Liszt and Berg in Seong-Jin Cho’s recital. But in fact this refers more to a philosophical ‘artist as wanderer’, as is made clear in the booklet interview. And the three pieces make strikingly good bedfellows, the opening of Berg’s Op 1 speaking the same language as the Schubert.

Such is the maturity of Seong-Jin Cho’s playing that it’s easy to forget he’s still only 25: the finesse of his pianism, which I admired in his Debussy recital (1/18), is abundantly in evidence here too. In his hands the Wanderer Fantasy’s more unpianistic elements are well honed and even the biggest climaxes are beautifully controlled. The work’s grandeur is evident from the very opening, whereas in Paul Lewis’s account it’s drive that’s uppermost, as is true too of Sviatoslav Richter in a thrilling live account that has its fair share of spills but also a profound humanity. Cho is less extreme in his view and is particularly compelling in the Adagio, where the variations unfold from the gloriously sonorous theme to fine effect. I had my doubts about the Presto third movement, which lacks the sheer fury of Lewis, but in the fugal finale Cho combines strength and sensitivity, underlining the piece’s symphonic majesty.

You might think that the Berg would sound strikingly new in this context but interestingly it actually sounds relatively traditional in a reading full of refinement and carefully balanced textures. What it lacks, however, is the sense of questing that Uchida reveals so superbly: she imbues the sonata with a sense of almost whimsical playfulness, giving it a more modern feel.

Liszt composed his B minor Sonata shortly after finishing his arrangement of the Wanderer Fantasy for piano and orchestra and the influence of the Schubert piece on this sonata’s structure has been much written about. Seong-Jin Cho is alive to its drama without needing to underline it, judging the tricky matter of the opening to perfection. His pacing as a whole is finely judged, virtuosity always at the service of the music. The moments of extreme quiet, too, are very well wrought – sample the filigree from 3'07" (track 7, Cantando espressivo) or, even more so, its return (track 9, from 5'08"). But despite the fact that much impresses, I don’t feel he quite reaches the heights of the many truly great recordings – and the most dramatic elements are a touch underplayed, be they the Grandioso (the opening of track 7) or the punchy chords in the Recitativo (track 7, 7'54"), but most importantly in the Presto build-up from (track 9, from 5'30"), which has absolute technical certainty where I wanted a more blatant sense of danger. So overall, much fine playing and a worthwhile addition to Seong-Jin Cho’s discography, but not an album that changes the status quo.