This is the second volume of Nikolai Lugansky’s Beethoven to have come my way and the ruggedness that coloured his accounts of the late sonatas (1/21) are in evidence here, too, in these three nicknamed works.

He strenuously avoids the superficially beautiful in the first movement of the Moonlight, instead lending it a dragging quality by slightly delaying the second note in the dotted figure, which gains an obsessive quality as it comes to the fore in the closing moments. I find him a good deal less effective here than Steven Osborne, who draws you into its rippling motion with a remarkable array of pianissimos. The Allegretto throws up more issues, for Lugansky takes a steady speed and conveys little of the playfulness of Osborne, while in the Trio the syncopations fail to lift the music. Lugansky’s performance only comes off the page in the finale, with a driving energy, offset by nicely observed quieter moments.

His Tempest, which closes the programme, has a craggy, dramatic persona, the ire to the fore. Personally, I prefer there to be more of a quiet menace to the upward-curling arpeggios that set the sonata in motion (Paul Lewis, for instance). There’s no doubting the effectiveness of Lugansky’s development section, trenchant and confident, where others find more of a trembling fear. That mood continues in the Adagio, which is a little short on fantasy for my taste: whereas the Russian brings an imperious poise to it, Richard Goode reveals an altogether more beseeching, humane world, and there’s also a greater sense of narrative, with the line seeming to continue through his phrase-endings. Arguably Lugansky takes the finale at a true Allegretto, as marked, but it sounds too dogged; Goode, a fair bit faster, conveys a more whirring, pent-up quality, while Lewis, closer in tempo to this new account, has a driving unease ameliorated by moments of lightness and a more satisfying sign-off as the music fades away.

The recording’s centrepiece is the Appassionata, which should, at least on paper, have suited Lugansky well. But again there’s a certain lack of subtlety in his approach – the quiet tension of those opening bars, for instance – and once the music explodes into life there’s too much emphasis on the vertical (the accentuation, the fortissimo chords) and not enough on the horizontal. A moment or two with Goode and you’re in a completely different environment. The first movement’s Più allegro, merely hectoring in Lugansky’s hands, is truly thrilling in Goode’s. The slow movement’s variations, too, sound over-deliberate – partly the tempo choice but also down to articulation. Lewis is more easily flowing here, imbuing the chorale-like textures with songfulness. If you find Lewis too slow in the finale (I don’t, for I find his level of detail compelling), then Lugansky might be more to your taste, rounded off with a dazzlingly nihilistic Presto.