A pianist colleague likened the young Andrei Gavrilov’s fire-eating virtuosity to a state-of-the-art BMW without the driver. It’s true that in his youth Gavrilov’s fingers sometimes outran his brain (his rapid-transit Bach Goldberg Variations, certain Chopin Études). Now in his mid-sixties, little has changed. In Schumann’s Papillons, Gavrilov pushes and pulls the tempos even more than in his earlier EMI recording (6/89). However, this is nothing compared to a Symphonic Études unmatched in the catalogue for brute force and insensitivity. Gavrilov speeds through Étude No 1, casually strums through No 3’s right-hand arpeggios, hammers out No 4’s canonic chords, takes No 8’s dotted rhythms for a slapdash joyride and substitutes speed for finesse in No 9. At least Gavrilov’s fast tempo mitigates the finale’s annoying redundancies.

Be prepared for a heavy-handed tour through Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. After a steel-edged and choppy opening ‘Promenade’, Gavrilov transforms the creepy ‘Gnomus’ into portly pachyderms. He constantly fidgets with the tempo in ‘The Old Castle’, throwing its hypnotic lilt out of the window. Nor can Gavrilov maintain the persistent pulse of ‘Bydło’. At least the ‘Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks’ transpires straightforwardly, even though the pianist has obviously spiked the poor creatures’ water supply with amphetamines. Yet he is curiously restrained in the scurrying coda of ‘The Market Place at Limoges’. Baba Yaga’s hut wobbles under Gavrilov’s unstable rhythmic momentum but ‘The Great Gate at Kiev’ conveys sufficient breadth, if relatively little majestic resonance.

As if the title was not pretentious enough, Gavrilov’s long-winded, self-serving booklet essay rings just as hollow as his artistry.