Beethoven’s early Variations on a Russian Dance from the ballet Das Waldmädchen by Wranitzky has rarely been played better. Vadym Kholodenko’s ear-tickling trills and textural transparency in the opening theme set the stage for the intimate, subtle and crisply detailed playing to come. Note how he articulates rapid scales so that the notes are individually distinct yet still smoothly connected.

I once asked the late composer-pianist Frederic Rzewski if he had ever imagined just how many young virtuosos would be taking up his monumental set of variations on Sergio Ortega’s Chilean resistance anthem The People United Will Never Be Defeated!. His main concern was that pianists bring something new to the table, infusing their own personality. Certainly Ursula Oppens, Igor Levit, Stephen Drury, Marc-André Hamelin, Corey Hamm and Ralph van Raat offer refinements of detail and sonority that differ from and sometimes improve upon Rzewski’s formidable keyboard prowess. Yet their performances generally seem to use Rzewski’s own bold, straightforward and headlong approach as a frame of reference or jumping-off point. Kholodenko, by contrast, goes his own way in regard to tempo, phrasing, accent and dynamics. His is an essentially pianistic orientation that draws attention to itself for sheer virtuosity and colouristic resources.

You might find his tapered nuances in the theme too arch, yet the crescendo leading into the tune’s A-section reiterations truly hits home. The melodic leaps in Vars 2, 3 and 7 are more playful and contrasted than usual, while the pianist assiduously builds Var 8’s imitative writing and shapes Var 10’s jagged Boulezian gestures as long arcs.

Kholodenko’s freely fluctuating pulse and inventive pedalling put a convincingly Romantic spin on Vars 14 and 15, while his hair-trigger staccatos throughout the fourth section’s variations are softer, faster and suppler than the so-called norm. Perhaps he sacrifices power for speed, but he makes quite a meal of Var 24’s expressive directives; the weighty allargando leading into the high, siren-like tremolo B flat will leave you limp. However, a steadier, more resolute march tempo for Var 26 would have made a stronger impact.

I also question Kholodenko’s unusually fast pacing of Var 27, which lacks the requisite tenderness and quality of searching that the music implies. But the pianist follows his assured account of the cumulative final six variations with a terrific improvised cadenza.

Alexey Kurbatov’s Three Last Minutes features long cantus firmus bass lines underneath a staccato middle voice and lyrical high-register melodies. The piece conveys starkness and fragility, and provides an appropriate coda to Rzewski’s all-encompassing sound world. This is far and away the best recording that Vadym Kholodenko has made, and the superb engineering does his committed artistry full justice.