Question: define the word ‘cheeky’. Answer: a person who (a) devotes their solo debut CD release to three of the Russian repertoire’s most daunting sonatas, and (b) sets down the whole programme in just one day of recording. That explains why certain notes don’t quite hold their tuning, although not alarmingly so.

More importantly, Kenny Broberg has the technical wherewithal and assurance to bring off such a project. Just as Rachmaninov’s 1931 revision of his Second Sonata aimed for concision and compactness over the original 1913 version’s prolixity, Broberg in turn largely takes the composer’s dynamic and expressive directives on faith. He pedals discreetly, letting his laserlike fingers unclog the chordal thickets and coruscating downward runs. Think of Vladimir Horowitz without the nervous edge or a more benevolent Alexis Weissenberg, and you’ll hear what I mean. His slow-movement cantabiles may not palpitate in the manner of Van Cliburn’s heartfelt live recording, yet the lilting accompaniments have more backbone than usual. Lilt, however, is decidedly missing from the rhythmically forthright yet over-literal and foursquare finale.

When it comes to the necromantic idiom of Scriabin’s Fifth Sonata, let’s just say that Broberg is 75 per cent committed. The fiery opening upward runs force you to pay attention, and the fast passages convey flickering ardency and a rhythmic spring that nearly out-Richters Sviatoslav Richter. The missing 25 per cent concerns Broberg’s slight impatience and lack of repose in the lyrical sections.

Thanks, in part, to Marc-André Hamelin’s standard-setting Medtner sonata cycle (Hyperion, 10/98), the composer’s ambitious large-scale Night Wind is slowly working its way into the active repertoire. Again, textually speaking, Broberg runs a tight and scrupulous ship, steering a steady and direct course without lingering too long at various portsides. In the lengthy first section, Broberg distinguishes agitato from poco agitato and lets you hear the differences between pesante and cantando in long stretches of passagework. To be sure, Broberg doesn’t characterise sudden changes in tempo or mood as Hamelin so brilliantly does through colour shifts and accentuation, such as the little scherzando outbursts in the first Tranquillo section (track 5, 4'33"). On the other hand, Broberg’s expressive palette comes into play throughout the sonata’s second half, while still keeping Medtner’s contrasts between thematic material and leggierissimo ‘filler’ in perfect perspective. A stunningly spaced and articulated reading of Medtner’s Danza festiva concludes a mostly impressive recital from a gifted pianist whose career I look forward to following in the future. The booklet notes offer nothing beyond a performer biography, and do not mention Broberg’s use of the 1931 Rachmaninov text.