Alexander Tcherepnin nowadays has a considerably better gramophone representation than his father Nikolay, but none of his six piano concertos features in the current lists. The three chosen here cover most of his career. The Second is a cheerful, extrovert work, very much in the manner of those other exiles who encountered Paris in the 1920s. So it is not surprising to find the voice of Prokofiev sounding here, even though Tcherepnin may well have discovered the manner for himself. He is by some way the lesser composer, and lacks Prokofiev's formidable individuality, but this is a lively, well-fashioned work. Of his craftsmanship there is no doubt; and his skill in making musical logic out of almost deliberately unpromising material is fully evident in the Third Concerto, a fairly succinct two-movement work. This places considerable demands upon soloist and conductor not merely technically but so as to make sense of the oddly recalcitrant themes. The last of the series, No. 6, is a much bigger work but in many ways a more straightforward one, though it too requires virtuoso musicianship.
This it receives from Murray McLachlan, not to mention from the brilliant young orchestra of Chetham's. The school has been turning out virtuosos for a quarter of a century now, and the playing here has not only freshness and exuberance but a sense of style for which the orchestra's conductor Julian Clayton can take much credit. Old Chet's musicians will be curious to hear how matters are faring, and can be reassured; collectors interested in Tcherepnin need have no hesitation in acquiring this excellent set of performances.'