In the past 12 months alone these pages have noted new recordings of Chopin’s Preludes by Ingrid Fliter, Daniel Trifonov, Andrew Tyson, Yulianna Avdeeva, Grigory Sokolov and Jean-Philippe Collard – Fliter, for me, the most consistently satisfying. Among the 60 or so other recordings are classics by Cortot, Moiseiwitsch and Argerich. The Franco-Belgian Maxence Pilchen makes his recording debut with them. Nothing wrong with that, for these 24 miniature masterpieces provide the opportunity to demonstrate a pianist’s entire technical and musical command. But given the wealth of competition it is surely wrong-headed – and a foolhardy marketing ploy – to issue a disc of an unheralded newcomer with just the 24 Preludes and nothing else.

This might be understandable were the playing truly outstanding. But it isn’t. Pilchen is a fine young pianist, as anyone must be who tackles these deceptively difficult little tone-poems, but compared with the illustrious names listed above he is, frankly, vin ordinaire. One overriding virtue of his playing is that he does not sentimentalise the music, and the soulful B minor and D flat Preludes are models of simplicity (unlike the self-indulgence which for me marred Sokolov’s recent set – DG, 2/15). I like, too, the beautifully graded dynamics of the C minor and much thoughtful detail elsewhere. The stretto bars in the E minor are overcooked for my taste, and, though Pilchen is no slouch when it comes to tossing off the semiquavers at presto con fuoco, the fortissimo left-hand octaves in the infamous B flat minor lose their impact in a blur of pedal: a fast ride in a faceless machine. Hear, by contrast, what imagination Cortot in 1926 and Lhévinne in 1936 bring to it. And it is to Cortot (though he is prone to exaggeration) and others of his ilk to whom one turns in Op 28 for the story-telling beyond the notes.