The Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra (1972-73) is power-driven by a bloodthirsty sense of invention, leaving you to ponder why the other works on this disc of Luciano Berio compositions sound so dispassionate and chanceless. Chemins I (1965) for harp and orchestra is a re-imagining of Berio’s classic solo harp Sequenza II. At the beginning, brittle string pizzicati extend the harp gestures, but interest soon evaporates once the conceptual hook of this call-and-response echoing chamber has been established.

Chemins IIb (1970) for orchestra has a more complex etymology. Originally Sequenza VI for solo viola, Berio initially adapted it for viola and nine instruments: Chemins II was what he called an orchestral remake; Chemins IIb is essentially the same music minus the viola. But has Berio ploughed his material into the ground through overuse? Certainly orchestral surges sound like they ought to be impressive but a monochrome chromatic blandness robs the music of impetus or direction. Similar problems haunt Formazioni (1986) for orchestra – Berio’s harmonies are indistinct and his gestures are stuffed with hollow rhetoric.

The two-piano concerto, in contrast, has clarity and psychological edge. If the performances of the Chemins and Formazioni feel listless, that might be because the musicians are aiming to place difficult right notes inside an expressive void. In the concerto, Berio’s clustery, grandstanding piano-writing bounces against his orchestral vistas and suddenly his gestures feel open-ended and generous. But by itself, that’s no recommendation – especially as, in place of booklet-notes, there’s terrible poetry by Ferdinand Schmatz for you to read.