There are pages in both concertos that Sitkovetsky has completely rediscovered for me. No. 1 is little short of revelatory. Rarely can the tenuous balance between the lyrical and the diabolical have proved so unsettling. The extremes are extreme indeed, from the spun silk of that long almost too-beautiful-to-be-true melody at the outset, delivered with perfect classical poise by Sitkovetsky, to the disruptive, increasingly agitated development which ensues—Prokofiev's Mr Hyde baring his teeth. A quite lethal armoury of accent and syncopation is thrown devilishly into the arena here, and it is to Sitkovetsky's credit that he never once (and many do) sacrifices accuracy for drama or vice versa. His technical prowess is extraordinary, his ability to disg use and transform his tone-colour (the pressure and speed of the bow, the nature of the vibrato) a particularly striking feature of these performances.

In Sitkovetsky's hands, the scherzo of the First Concerto is no joke; or if it is, a very black one indeed: the gritty motor-rhythms, the slithering portamentos of the middle measures, the ugly shrieks up and almost off the E string—all this is uncompromising and wildly exciting. But it's also consoling, of course, to be able to sit back and rest assured in the security of his intonation. The seemingly inexhaustible cantabile of the Second Concerto's Andante is gloriously true and free almost as if the line were being created in the playing of it. Again, contrast that with the sinewy danse macabre of the finale. Here, as everywhere, Sir Colin Davis proves the ideal partner, his firm rhythmic arm (and vocal encouragement) much in evidence.