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The challenges of Brahms's two piano concertos are legendary, granitic cliffs to be scaled only by the doughtiest and toughest of soloists. Symphonic in length, scope and seriousness, these were revolutionary in their time for the way they imbued a genre that had become primarily a virtuoso vehicle for the soloist with real emotional heft.

Portentous, massive, slow. the effect is less one of profundity than torpor
Hélène Grimaud is no stranger to this music and has recorded No.1 before. That was live and so are her two new readings with the ever-attentive Andris Nelsons and the Bavarian RSO. But what can be an utterly mesmerising experience in the concert hall sometimes doesn't transfer well to disc. The very opening of the B flat Concerto, with its eloquent horn theme, sets alarm bells ringing. It's portentous, massive, slow. And although it's a piece that can work at these spacious tempos, here the cumulative effect is one of self-consciousness. Only in the finale do we get the hint of a smile, but even that is underplayed by Grimaud's muscular approach. In the two slow movements, too, the melodic line becomes unsustainable at these inordinately slow speeds. The effect is less one of profundity than torpor.

The two works are separated by two decades. The D minor Concerto is very much the product of a young man, and a fiery one at that (forget the patrician, bearded figure of popular history); a sense of titanic struggle imbues much of the outer movements. However, in Grimaud's hands, energy is in short supply. 

Of course she's a highly accomplished pianist: she can deal with Brahms's hugely virtuoso demands without breaking into a sweat; she's also a highly intelligent artist and her readings are clearly the product of immense thought and study. The problem is that they don't, to these ears at least, illuminate these marvellous works, but rather weigh them down. For Grimaud diehards only.

Artists: Hélène Grimaud (piano), Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra/Andris Nelsons