Maddening or enchanting – Cherkassky could veer from one to the other. Taking a mischievous delight in a freedom that never made one performance like another, he drove conductors to distraction, reversing decisions taken during lengthy rehearsals. And here, in performances dating from 1981 and 1983, when Cherkassky was in his seventies, there is a characteristic if extreme example of failure and success. In Chopin’s E minor Concerto the idiosyncrasy is at its least engaging, oddly strenuous and disjointed though with brief flashes of magic in the central ‘Romanze’.

Mercifully, the Second Concerto presents a different story and comes like a breath of fresh air after so much stifling and distracting oddity. There is a far greater sense of impetus and propulsion, a true sense of a virtuoso aplomb and that youthful ardour that took Chopin’s early audiences by the ears. Again, all who delight in Cherkassky’s sudden vehemence and equally sudden sly withdrawals, his piquancies and underlinings, will not be disappointed. This is vintage Cherkassky; playing to charm the birds out of the trees. Richard Hickox manages to keep everything on the move and, unlike Christopher Adey, caught Cherkassky on one of his less erratic, most life-affirming days. An odd mix, then, but more than worth it for the Second Concerto.