Surprisingly, Nikolai Lugansky hasn’t played much of Tchaikovsky’s solo piano music for the past 20 years. Now he has renewed the acquaintance, let’s hope it continues. Lugansky pairs the massive Grand Sonata with the 12 descriptive miniatures that form The Seasons, and his interpretations are insightful and mature. There are huge spans to be shaped in the two first movements of the Sonata; if sometimes one fleetingly wishes for a little more expansiveness and abandon, that slight holding back is part of Lugansky’s pacing, and it works. Besides, there’s bedazzlement enough in the third and fourth, with the finale having an almost Conlon Nancarrow-like clarity and attack that’s something to relish. The Seasons are thoughtfully done, drawing the ear in to these vignettes of Russian life rather than painting them in garish colours. The wistful goodbye to warmth in October, in which Lugansky sounds as if he’s duetting soulfully with himself, is especially nicely done.
