Many recordings of Bartók’s First Piano Concerto understandably spotlight the intricate percussion-writing alongside the solo piano, even though the composer asks to have the percussionists behind the pianist. By contrast, the engineering in the present recording mirrors a robust concert-hall ambience that still allows the rapid exchanges between orchestral strands to sufficiently register. This is also due to conductor Christoph Eschenbach’s splendid ear for balance and chamber-like delineation. And because the piano part is closely intertwined within the orchestral fabric, Tzimon Barto wisely takes the attitude of a team player, yet his full-bodied dispatch of the fast-moving chords and lyrical warmth in slower passages certain don’t go unnoticed. The same can be said for the finale’s weighty momentum. Listeners accustomed to readings of the Andante that time out within close range of Bartók’s metronome marking (ie Kocsis, Schiff, Anda, Pollini and Bavouzet) will be surprised by the unusually slow tempo. Yet I find that additional breadth and rumination convincingly illuminate the expressive delicacy of the piano/percussion dialogues.

However, the same sonic image yields diffuse results in the colourful and diverse orchestral textures chacaterising the Second Concerto’s outer movements, except for the incisive brass and woodwind flourishes in the finale’s coda. Still, one easily perceives Barto’s total technical and idiomatic command. The first movement, for example, contains wonderfully ear-catching moments, such as Barto’s feathery dispatch of the knotty leggiero triplets and the Tranquillo section’s dazzlingly pointed arpeggiated chords in opposite directions, plus the cadenza’s effortless double notes. In the second movement, Barto and the timpani soloist build their slow-motion phrases with rapt concentration towards a powerful climax that may well push your loudspeakers or headphones to their limits.

The Third Concerto was recorded in concert and benefits from clearer and more impactful engineering. The first movement doesn’t quite take wing until the recapitulation, although it still lacks the leanness and bracing inner rhythm distinguishing the classic Annie Fischer/Igor Markevitch recording (6/58), or the wonderful live Sidney Foster/Aaron Copland recording. But the Allegro vivace finale gathers strength and vivacity as it progresses, with the syncopations locking in with increased confidence and precision. Whereas most performances of the central Adagio religioso last around nine to ten minutes, Barto and Eschenbach take nearly 14. I doubt the composer would have wanted the movement so drastically drawn out and microscopically scrutinised, although the pianist creates a time-stopping mood with his slow-motion legato control. Despite unquestionably illuminating (if unorthodox) moments, this Bartók cycle will not displace my Anda, Schiff and Kocsis versions of reference.