My colleague Andrew Farach-Colton ended his review of the previous volume, of the Pastoral and the Piano Trio Op 1 No 3 (12/22), with the plea: ‘Can we have [Symphonies] Nos 4 and 7 next, please?’

His cry has been answered, for here is the Fourth which, like the Sixth, has been transcribed with real panache by pianist Shai Wosner. And, like AFC, I’m very glad to have encountered this reworking. Sometimes a chamber arrangement of an orchestral work can stand uncomfortably between the colour of the original and the tension when it’s boiled down to a single instrument (Liszt’s piano realisations of the nine symphonies, for instance, where the sheer difficulty is part of the joy). But not here: it helps, I think, that Wosner is himself such a fine pianist, and the result sounds completely idiomatic. That, and of course the fact that here are three musicians who are not only world-class players but who also have years of experience working as a trio.

The sense of expectation of the slow introduction to the symphony is compellingly done here, and interestingly you don’t miss the colours of the sustained winds at all. The way that Wosner also conjures the orchestral busyness as we move into the Allegro vivace is another masterstroke. The more you explore this arrangement, the more you appreciate the way Wosner respects the original without being hemmed in by it. The Adagio second movement, for instance, where Kavakos has the pizzicato of the original, gently set against Ma’s refulgent tone as he takes up the woodwinds’ melody (from 2'28"), or the minor-key outburst (from 4'23") where the three conjure real menace; and, as the movement draws to a close, the sweet longing in Kavakos’s beautifully hushed line before the music builds to end ff is another moment of wonder.

The Scherzo works because it goes at a good lick – Manny Ax is certainly not playing like a man in his mid-70s – and, remarkably, you don’t miss the timps underpinning the emphatic moments. The finale, too, is boldly dispatched, with no sense of it being a pale imitation of Beethoven’s original.

Their reading of the Archduke of course enters a crowded field, and what comes across above all is an unhurried bonhomie, the first movement imbued with an egalitarian good humour. There are points where I could have done with more emotional extremes – their Scherzo is more relaxed than the Florestan’s or the wonderfully urgent 1964 Beaux Arts’, and as the music plunges into the depths of B flat minor for the Trio I wanted more of the work’s dark shadows than are revealed here. But the variation-form slow movement theme is wonderfully modulated by Ax (every bit as good as Menahem Pressler) and the sense of inevitability as the note values get ever smaller through the variations is finely done, as is the poignancy of the coda. Their finale, less driven than the Beaux Arts, Florestan or sinuous Chung Trio, is proof that, in the hands of charismatic musicians, you can leave aside expectation and simply be convinced by their musicianship, with the final Presto setting the seal on a reading of panache.