Having enjoyed the quietly confident artistry and musicianship of this team in the Second and Fifth Concertos (12/19), I looked forward to following their journey in the First and Fourth. As before, these are solid and thoughtful performances, devoid of gimmickry or special pleading. This time I do feel that the spotlight has been turned a fraction more brightly on the piano, compared to the exquisite balance of the first disc. That gives more of a feel of separation, certainly by comparison with Leif-Ove Andsnes conducting the Mahler CO from the piano, which radiates oneness and camaraderie. And in terms of innovation and discovery, Harnoncourt (with Aimard) makes the strongest case of all for the role of orchestra.

Take, for instance, the opening of the First Concerto, where Harnoncourt’s orchestra gently knocks on the door to a magic land, at first tiptoeing in, then opening the gate wide. I occasionally miss that kind of spaciousness from Manze, though his more neutral backdrop certainly brings out the many colours and nuances of Helmchen’s playing. The whole thing is much less Mozartian than with Andsnes, and Helmchen is quite generous with the pedal, sometimes perhaps excessively so, as in the descending scale passage just before the reprise of the First Concerto’s first movement – here quite startlingly invasive – but equally capable of beautifully shrouded effects, as in the dreamy episodes of the Fourth’s finale.

For a pianist, the solo opening of the Fourth Concerto must be as difficult as getting ‘The name’s Bond, James Bond’ out of the way. Here Helmchen’s approach is akin to Timothy Dalton’s, as he flies through it in one breath. That same kind of forward-looking trajectory animates the rest of the movement. But this is where I have to confess a personal preference for something more relaxed; among modern versions Maria João Pires (with Daniel Harding) perhaps comes closest to the magic of the classic (unsurpassed?) Gilels and Ludwig (EMI/Warner). Helmchen and Manze have their own breathtaking moments, and they are by no means always risk-averse: the exaggerated dramatic opposition between the orchestra and piano in the Andante con moto is extremely effective, though whether amplifying the traditional ‘Orpheus and the Furies’ reading is a good thing may be a matter of taste.

In the opening movement of the First Concerto, Helmchen chooses to mix two cadenzas: the shorter one (Andsnes’s choice) but with the final episode added in from the longer one (Aimard’s preference). This may not be as far-fetched as Gould’s own concoction but it’s still refreshing. The finale of the First could perhaps do with a touch of Gouldian frenzy; in fact no other interpretation quite makes me want to drop everything and dance madly the way Gould’s sheer energy does.