Ex-Curtis and Juilliard, Andrew Tyson won fifth prize at the 2012 Leeds Competition. And now he enters a crowded arena with a programme centred around Chopin’s Op 28 Preludes. That he has an affinity with the composer is immediately obvious and one of the most appealing aspects here is his sheer sound. Soulfulness, too, is in plentiful supply: in the well-paced 17th Prelude, for instance, or the Fourth, where he withdraws into a true pianissimo to telling effect. And he brings out the filigree writing in the Third very effectively. There’s no lack of technique either, as witness a Prelude such as No 17. However, there are times when poetry seems to be too much of a preoccupation: in something as cataclysmic as No 22 his is an altogether gentler creation than Sokolov’s or, for that matter, Trifonov’s.

But one aspect does bother me: he has a tendency to emphasise odd notes or phrases from within the texture. The Second Prelude, for instance, becomes all about the repeated G in the midst of the left-hand texture. How much more effective is Fliter’s shaping of the dragging left hand here. Tyson’s desynchronisation of the hands, too, is at times contrived-sounding: in the Sixth Prelude for example, where Fliter’s apparent simplicity is so much more convincing. And then there’s the shadow cast by Sokolov – because once you’ve heard his dragging, grief-stricken way with this particular Prelude everyone else seems superficial.

However, of the remaining works, there’s a suitably plaintive Op 45 Prelude, while the fluttering 1834 A flat major snippet is a real rarity. The Third Impromptu has charm, though Cortot, slightly quicker, is matchless here. And the Op 59 Mazurkas are by turns subtle and chewy. This is a disc that promises much if Tyson can rein in those textural peccadilloes.