If Anna Tsybuleva’s name rings a bell, you may recall her as winner of the 2015 Leeds Piano Competition – remarkably only the second woman to take first prize. On the podium is Ruth Reinhardt, a rising star in a field that is still male-dominated.

Tsybuleva talks in the booklet of how much Brahms means to her, and that certainly translates to her playing. In the opening movement of the Second Concerto she and Reinhardt are clearly at one in their approach, which has a certain freedom to it, and an unhurried quality as if to emphasise its epic nature. While that can result in many passages of beauty (and her Yamaha is forwardly placed in the mix, ensuring that she’s never in danger of being overwhelmed even in the loudest passages), what I found lacking in places was a sense of rhetoric, without which the music loses a vital nobility. Freire and Chailly have all the time in the world yet also inject the music with a true sense of drama where it’s needed, making for a more fulfilling experience.

In the Allegro appassionato’s gentler moments Tsybuleva reveals a poetic lyricism that is very telling, and the switch to the major (from 4'31") is well handled by Reinhardt, the pianist responding with nicely sotto voce double octaves. But of course this movement is really an essay in muscularity and here I found her somewhat underwhelming: Freire, while not taking it unduly fast, gives it a steely glint that is very effective – just sample the last 30 seconds, in which Freire is full of fury, compared to which Tsybuleva sounds a tad tame.

Happily, the remaining two movements are more convincing. The Andante flows beautifully, with the solo cello of Valentin Radutiu poetic without being overly spotlit. When the pianist enters, she shapes her phrases with imagination, and in the Più adagio (from 6'21") there’s some lovely hushed playing, which is matched by the clarinet before being picked up by the strings (though in the highest register the piano tone is a bit thin). The finale combines geniality with grace and Tsybuleva’s lightness of touch is everywhere apparent. I did find the minor-key passage (from 3'53") somewhat deliberately dispatched but on the other hand the coda (from 7'38") has a real ebullience to it.

The first of the solo pieces, the Capriccio that opens Op 76, is nicely done, at least until you compare her with Arcadi Volodos (harsh, I know), who turns it from a mere piano piece into a veritable tone poem. The other two pieces from Op 76 also work well, Tsybuleva capturing the uneasy energy of the second, while she draws out from the often dense textures of No 8 a sense of line, even if I marginally prefer Jonathan Plowright’s more unbridled approach. However, the first Intermezzo from Op 117 is just too slow, rendering its inner Più adagio section moribund. Both Volodos and Plowright are infinitely more successful, and, though tempo isn’t a problem in Op 118 No 2, her tendency for expressive ritardandos can get in the way of a singing line.