Though we can expect further significant additions to the Prokofiev discography this year, few are likely to be more welcome than these partially overlapping, though differently targeted programmes. Ivashkin’s is an obvious choice for the specialist collector seeking a complete survey of Prokofiev’s works for the cello in a chamber context. It is his second attempt to plug this gap and should enjoy wider distribution than its not quite identical predecessor on Ode Manu Classics. Chang and Pappano offer a fiercely communicative Symphony-Concerto (EMI has unhelpfully reverted to the outmoded nomenclature of Sinfonia Concertante) and an equally distinctive, though more conventionally ruminative account of the Sonata.

It is fair to assume that the Korean cellist is the youngest exponent of these pieces on disc, and it shows in the best possible way as her youthful vivacity meets Prokofiev’s mature style. Although still in her teens, she is an experienced, even mature recording artist with several fine discs under her belt including an acclaimed Tchaikovsky Rococo Variations with the LSO under Rostropovich, set down when she was a mere 13 years old (EMI, 11/96). Her taut, ardent conception of the main work here, music that can often come across as rambling and discursive, is the most radical thing she has done, knocking minutes off the timings of almost every previous recording. The first movement is perfectly pitched, never self-indulgent, and it is easy to forgive any momentary lack of unanimity when editing might have impaired the forward thrust of the music-making. Chang’s authoritative style reaps huge rewards from 7'25", where the theme sings out in the very highest register.

The central scherzo is sensationally swift and articulate but deeply felt too, with more emotional as well as physical precision than I can recall from previous performances barring Rostropovich’s own. Prokofiev’s sometimes wan lyricism is revivified by Chang’s refined sensibility; her phrasing truly breathes with the music and the vulnerable, confessional quality she reveals may well bring a tear to the eye. Autumnal half-lights are usually more potent for being strictly rationed, and Pappano is forthright as well as ‘sensitive’, giving us some minatory, Soviet-sounding brass interventions – try from 5'48" – amid the hustle and bustle (more panic and frenzy in this interpretation).

Of course, it’s not only the refined direction that brings new colour, clarity and lustre to Prokofiev’s orchestral fabric. EMI’s sound is genuinely top-notch, and you may be taken aback to discover just how terrific this orchestra can sound in a sympathetic recording studio. The cellist is placed closer than would be the case in live concert, but such technically invulnerable playing can take it.

Even in such exalted company, Ivashkin’s recital is by no means outclassed. Captured in the Maly Hall of the Moscow Conservatory where much of Prokofiev’s work was first heard, it is surprising to find so many aspects of the composer’s style represented, from the romanticism of the early Ballade through the spiky dissonances of Chout to the elegiac, unfinished Solo Sonata. Aided by characterful piano-playing by Tatyana Lazareva (daughter of the conductor, Alexander Lazarev), Ivashkin’s recital compares most favourably with his similar programme on Ode for which he was accompanied by a more reticent pianist; although the earlier disc includes the Concertino movement in the guise of Rostropovich’s cello quintet arrangement, the absence of the Chout transmogrification makes the Chandos collection appear better value.

We start with the familiar Cello (and piano) Sonata, a highly polished and deeply felt account which some may actually prefer to Chang/Pappano’s when Lazareva provides a weightier, more authentically Russian accompaniment. Pappano’s piano sound is subtler, more legato, tactfully retreating into the background at times. The Ballade is surely the best version yet of this increasingly popular work. Good though Wallfisch’s expansive reading is, Ivashkin surpasses him in his juxtaposition of the 19th-century style of the opening and the ghostly second idea, hushed to a real pianissimo. Instead of Wallfisch’s ‘March’ from The Love for Three Oranges, we get a Chout selection arranged by the Russian cellist Roman Sapozhnikov; again the rendition is technically spotless. Finally comes the Sonata for cello alone, its nostalgic opening brought off perfectly. Ivashkin’s playful treatment of the central gavotte-like section reminds us that he can do humour as well. Two minor quibbles: C major is the omnipresent key of the opening 40 minutes of this concert and, while the sound is fine, the stereo separation may be thought too much of a good thing.

A double whammy nevertheless, and Han-Na Chang’s coupling has to be my record of the year so far.