The astonishing Frank Dupree here continues his Kapustin odyssey with the fifth of the composer’s six piano concertos, and two works for two pianists (I was glad to welcome Dupree’s account of the Fourth Concerto in the March 2022 issue). Those familiar with the Soviet (or, as I now prefer to categorise him, Ukrainian) composer will know what to expect in terms of the musical idiom: to make a fairly crude shorthand comparison, the piano-writing resembles a notated jazz improvisation by Oscar Peterson. As a poor-to-average sight-reader, I am bewildered at the skill it must take to read, absorb and conquer Kapustin’s dizzying flights and constantly changing metre. How many years, one wonders, would it take the average pianist to get into one’s fingers the sudden burst of high-octane passagework in the middle of the Largo movement of the Concerto for two pianos? For Dupree, it’s a jog in the park. The fluency and rhythmic élan on display throughout this disc are the kind that make you smile and shake your head in disbelief.

But to the music itself. The Piano Concerto No 5 (written for and dedicated to the late great Nikolai Petrov in 1993) is a five-movements-in-one affair lasting just short of 21 minutes. The ideas come so fast and furious it is hard to discern any formal structure even after several hearings (no hardship, by the way). Indeed, so profuse are they, there is an almost hysterical quality to proceedings at times, when the music becomes like a rabbit in a car’s headlights, swerving this way and that, unsure in which direction it should go.

In the later Concerto for two pianos and percussion (2002), Dupree is joined by pianist Adrian Brendle (also Dupree’s partner in their recording of Antheil’s Jazz Symphony – 8/17), longtime collaborator drummer Obi Jenne and percussionist Franz Bach. All elements of its three traditional movements (Allegro moderato, Largo, Allegro impetuoso) are held tightly together with machine-like precision by conductor Dominik Beykirch.

The final work is an unashamed crowd-pleaser which, I am told, has become a firm favourite of many two-piano teams. It’s easy to see why. The Sinfonietta for piano four hands (1986) has a (comparatively) simpler texture than the two preceding works and recognisable themes. The first and last of its four movements brim over with exuberant high spirits (the finale is like a mix of Gershwin, ragtime, Poulenc, Bernstein and Henry Mancini), crisply delivered by Dupree and Brendle, who are clearly having fun – and goodness, we need a bit of that at the moment.