Prokofiev at his most excessive makes for an unusual but perfectly logical concerto-symphony coupling. That it should come courtesy of the Ural Philharmonic may come as a surprise to some, but not to those who have followed their numerous recent recordings of Russian repertoire under their current artistic director, Dmitry Liss, and admired their quality.

Their latest offering enhances that reputation, as it does that of 36-year-old soloist Andrei Korobeinikov. He appreciates that the concerto is less a post-Romantic epic than a maximalised fairy tale, populated by the same kind of giants, ghouls and grotesques as Prokofiev was to trademark in The Love for Three Oranges. Korobeinikov is rather more yielding in his phrasing than most, at times very nearly sacrificing momentum for expressivity and shapeliness. The humungous first-movement cadenza thus scores high for harmonic coherence, but at the expense of something of its sheer hyperbole. Still, this strikes me as a perfectly valid alternative to the kind of industrial-strength barnstorming of Vladimir Krainev (in a remarkable, must-hear set of all five piano concertos that makes most others seem tame). Liss ensures that the orchestra’s contribution is never wholly subservient, and there are many things to relish that sometimes go for less than they should – some splendid eructatory blasts from the brass in the finale, for instance.

The Second Symphony is just as much a far-out point in Prokofiev’s output, for its sheer bombardment of the ear with thematic information as much as for its ‘Iron and Steel’ aggression. No amount of careful balancing is going to make every line in its teeming orchestration audible but Liss and his players are more successful than most and by no means eclipsed by Gergiev and the LSO (a modern benchmark). I’m not a fan of the shift of gear at around 7'00" in the first movement (and back for the reprise at 8'32"); Gergiev makes the necessary accommodation far more subtly. But this is at least an indication of Liss’s willingness to help the music speak to maximum effect. The second movement, whose variations are so obliquely derived from the theme that they might as well be unrelated parts of an abstract ballet suite, is played for all its worth – which may be the best way to do it justice.

It’s slightly surprising, perhaps, that Fuga Libera includes no biographical details for soloist, conductor or orchestra. That apart, this is a well-recorded and worthwhile release that stands up well beside most rivals.