In this year of his sixtieth birthday, how good to have this reminder of Fou Ts'ong's lifelong devotion to Chopin. Only in the Polonaise-fantaisie does he do himself less than justice: such idiosyncratically fitful, shape-damaging rubato is bound to sound mannered after re-hearings on disc. Just once or twice I would have preferred a more poised, Lipatti-like continuity in the Barcarolle too, though here there are many seductive things by way of compensation.