''Russian-romantic Modernist'' is the title of the sleeve-essay here. That might suggest that Tcherepnin is a kind of kindred spirit to Prokofiev, and indeed there are parallels to be drawn—pianist-composers of the same generation, they both emigrated after the Revolution and spent significant parts of their lives in Paris and America. The first movement of the Sonatine romantique (composed in 1918 at the age of 19) could actually pass as a minor piece of Prokofiev, although by the last movement, with its massive ringing of bells, Rachmaninov, and especially Mussorgsky, are the more powerfully invoked. As for Modernism, its clearest incarnation is in the first of the pentatonic ''Chinese'' Concert Etudes (1934-6) with its strong echoes of Henry Cowell's Exultation. One or the other strand can be traced in virtually all the pieces here recorded. The Russian-romantic appears rather disconcertingly in the cloying pastiche of the Chant et Refrain (1939-40) and the Modernist rather engagingly in the Opivochki (''Little Leftovers'') of 1975-7, just before Tcherepnin's death. The astringency of the Four Arabesques (1920-21), especially the lively-but-sad harlequinade of No. 3, shows that he was a Parisian at heart even before he settled there; and the disc is rounded off effectively by the Op. 88 Pieces (1954-5) which display a conscious synthesis of styles.
Tcherepnin's exploratory instincts took him into Orientalism and various modal and contrapuntal experiments (which the sleeve-note makes rather a hash of explaining). So by comparison with Prokofiev, his stylistic interests range wider. But the musical substance, it has to be said, is spread a lot thinner. These pieces are marvellously well written for the piano, several of them would make excellent encores and all are enjoyable to listen to. But none of them achieves real individuality or memorability—I can't imagine wanting to regale a musical friend with any of them.
Bennett Lerner has a solid technique and projects a wide dynamic range. He does not cultivate any great warmth of tone, but I doubt whether the music suffers unduly on that score. The piano is set in a pleasant acoustic, but the extreme treble, much exploited by Tcherepnin, is uncomfortably glassy.'