This live recital, repeated in London's Queen Elizabeth Hall, shows what a remarkable pianist Daniil Trifonov is. The three works stand as a kind of tricolore, side by side but not really blending. The Scriabin opens with a dreamy rendering of the Andante from the second Sonata, while the fleet-fingered ebb and flow of the Presto creates a beguiling texture that you don't want to end, it has so much feeling in its momentum. The Liszt is very different, not being about blurred continuity, but presented here as a patchwork of contrasts, each arrestingly negotiated, although the seams are well joined. Thrillingly virtuosic in the way he can bring out details in the middle of the most difficult passages, it never seems to play up the display aspect, but rather uses it to realise this poetic vision of landscapes both real and in the mind, you imagine, as something unfathomable, like a precipice in a Romantic painting falling between the highest peaks. The Chopin reins this in somewhat, but again there is a marvellous sense of Trifonov moulding the music. For instance in number ten he varies the descending ultra-rapid figuration seemingly with total spontaneity. No 12 in G sharp minor is exhilarating in a slightly clipped way, followed by the beautiful repose of the F sharp major, taken at just the right speed. Constant subtle nuances of rubato keep the famous Raindrop full of tender feeling, with the middle section looming implacably, emphasizing the contrast. In the fast number that follows his strong fingers do have their yielding moments that turn the right-hand roulade into a melodic utterance rather than the plain steeliness of some ... In short, Trifonov is always alive to the expressive opening-out, yet has a clear grasp of the bigger picture, and this sequence shows this admirably, with no wrong notes, amazingly.