Time was when it was all but impossible to get musicians to concede that there might be other orchestras worthy of comparison to those of Berlin and Vienna. Listening to this new DG release, it’s tempting to believe that the Berlin Philharmonic, here conducted by the meticulous Christian Thielemann, is truly without peer, despite all the extraordinary transformations of orchestral sound and character worldwide over the past 40 years. The deep-carpet richness of their sound, luxuriously captured by DG’s ultra-plush engineering, is a marvel to behold, if perhaps a bit beefy compared to what we’ve become accustomed to in early Beethoven. Three whispered C major chords open the Concerto with alluringly graceful poise. An intricate tapestry of sound begins to unfold, with the beautifully blended wind band, precisely proportionate accompanimental figures and exquisitely sculpted phrasing. Contrasts are abundant.

Enter the soloist, Rudolf Buchbinder who, at 74 and with the loss of Jörg Demus and Paul Badura-Skoda last year, perhaps nears the status of an éminence grise among Austrian pianists. From the outset, however, it seems that Buchbinder doesn’t share his collaborators’ approach to the score, one that inclines towards rhythmically taut ensemble, vividly characterised themes and abundant textural variety. Particularly in the realm of vivid contrast, including articulation strategies of attack and release, legato and staccato, and dynamic palette, it is as though Buchbinder would dial back the expressive elements at his disposal. With the exception of the finale, where he tends to move from beat to beat rather than bar to bar, there is little in Buchbinder’s performance that is overtly objectionable. Yet the general blandness of this interpretation seems at odds with what we know of the young pianist from Bonn, whose freshness of approach, wilful idiosyncrasies and sheer audacity piqued such interest in Vienna.

In the magnificent F major Variations, Op 34, a similar arm’s-length perspective prevails. If the second variation comes off as sufficiently athletic, large dividends of humour go unrealised. In the minuet variation a good deal of character is lost to ambiguous articulation, while the subsequent funeral march variation could use a crisper rhythmic underpinning. We come out the far side of these Variations as we might a pleasant walk in a familiar landscape: glad enough for the experience but unable to recall anything genuinely striking.