There is a young Russian pianist on the scene, just as there always is — and this young Russian pianist is very much worth paying attention to. He is Yevgeny Sudbin, 26 years old, and he played a recital at the Frick last month. Couldn’t make it? Neither could I. But we can hear Mr. Sudbin on two CDs from Sweden’s Bis label.

The first gives us Scarlatti sonatas, 18 of them, and a judicious selection. The young man is not exactly shy or demure in these “esercizi” — exercises — as Scarlatti called them. He is bold, aggressive, Horowitzian. And the late Horowitz, in fact, was a convincing Scarlatti player. No matter what Mr. Sudbin does in these superb little pieces, he is musical. He plays Scarlatti like a Russian, to be sure (if I may indulge in a national stereotype); this is not Clara Haskil, all poetry. But Scarlatti can bear many approaches.

In slower, more songful sonatas — such as that in B minor, K. 87, which Horowitz loved to play — Mr. Sudbin is awfully free, quasi-Romantic. But, again, he is musical, and I think Scarlatti would smile.

The disc shows a brilliant, all-capable piano technique. Can we trust a studio recording, with all the tricks available to the engineer? Of course not. But I have a feeling that Mr. Sudbin in the flesh is not so different from the pianist of the CDs.

His second disc contains music of the greatest Russian pianist of them all: Rachmaninoff. But not necessarily the pieces we expect. Mr. Sudbin begins with Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Chopin, Op. 22, a real rarity. (That theme, incidentally, is Chopin’s Prelude in C minor.) In the Variations, Mr. Sudbin is in utter command of the piano, and utter command of the music. Again, we must take a studio recording with a grain of salt. But Mr. Sudbin plays sprawling Rachmaninoff with an almost Haydnesque clarity.

He then plays a couple of song transcriptions: “Lilacs” and “Daisies.” These are Rachmaninoff’s own songs, and he piano-fied them in his inimitable way. He played them — and recorded them — too, in his inimitable way. From Mr. Sudbin, I would appreciate a little more lyricism, finding him a bit percussive, a bit harsh. But the young man is enjoyable nonetheless.

Next we have a quite popular and familiar piece: the B-flat-minor sonata. And the disc closes with two more transcriptions — of Kreisler’s “Liebesleid” and “Liebesfreud.” Rachmaninoff and Kreisler were friends and musical collaborators. (They would give violin-and-piano recitals.) And Rachmaninoff did up the Kreisler pieces in style. Mr. Sudbin plays them in style too, having a rollicking good time.

When, exactly, did such pieces as Rachmaninoff ‘s transcriptions become uncool in the concert hall? Whenever it was, it was a stupid moment.

Go way back in time, now, for “Music for Compline.” What is compline? “The last of the daily monastic hours.” And it entails “a form of night prayer.” I am quoting from the liner notes of this new CD, which comes from harmonia mundi. Annoyingly, the company lowercases its name. So does the singing group featured in “Music for Compline”: stile antico. (The words, as you know, mean “ancient style.”) Personally, I’d like e.e. cummings to come back and write a poem denouncing both of them.

In any case, the CD gives us music from 16th-century England. We hear the works of five composers, including two towering geniuses: Tallis and Byrd. The less exalted composers are Hugh Aston, John Sheppard, and Robert White. This is a beautiful disc, rendered with dignity, purity, and understanding. You may like to use it for your own night hours.

According to its bio, stile antico is an ensemble of young British singers who once did a tour with Sting, the rock star. This is a group that can apparently play the angles.

Speaking of young British musicians — how about Nicola Benedetti? Despite that lovely Italian name, she is a Scottish violinist, 19 years old. She has made an album with another Scot, James MacMillan, a composer of increasing fame. On this disc, he conducts the Academy of St.-Martin-in-the-Fields.

The disc, which comes from Deutsche Grammophon, features a major violin concerto — the Mendelssohn — and two pieces by Mozart: the Adagio in E, K. 261, and the Rondo in C, K. 373. But let’s focus on some more surprising stuff.

Miss Benedetti plays two arrangements of beloved Schubert songs: “Serenade” and “Ave Maria.” Now, this music can be overly sentimental, sappy, hard to take. But not from this violinist. She is sweet but not syrupy, feeling but not swooning. She plays these pieces with wonderful taste and affection.

And she closes the disc with music from the composer-conductor himself. Mr. MacMillan wrote “From Ayrshire” for her, Ayrshire being his home ground. The music comes in two parts. The first is twangy and mystical, and the second seems a mad reel — the Scottish equivalent of a whirling dervish. “From Ayrshire” may mean more to the composer and violinist than it will to you, the listener; but it is worth a few minutes of your time.

So is Nicola Benedetti, definitely. She is yet another impressive young violinist in an age of impressive young violinists. Whatever we are lacking, we are not lacking those.