The story goes that Busoni’s early arrangements of Bach – venturing far beyond mere transcription – became so popular that he was hailed backstage at least once as ‘Mr Bach-Busoni’. There were pianists – such as Arthur Rubinstein – who knew and worshipped Busoni and played the Bach arrangements but ignored or actively disliked his original piano works.

We might still see these arrangements decisively eclipse Busoni’s own scores in popularity. Andrea Padova’s satisfying programme serves up both in equal portions, allowing us to appreciate the intercessions and the influences – not only of Bach on Busoni but, by way of the retro-history of the arrangements, of Busoni on Bach! Murray McLachlan, on the other hand, concentrates on the Italian master’s deeper assimilation of other styles.

Padova, first prize-winner at the 1995 International JS Bach Competition, is the ideal advocate. He creates some of the same dark, sustained, organ-like tone that marks Rubinstein’s hypnotic 1934 recording of the Toccata, Adagio and Fugue. Coming from a different, historically-informed performance tradition – or so I assume – Padova strikes me as more the Bachian than the Busonian. His tone never hardens, thanks partly to a sensitive and discreet Stradivarius sound picture. He unleashes a full, Rachmaninovian dynamic range only when we get to the ‘original’ Busoni – specifically, the Fantasia after JS Bach, in which JSB is quoted rather than alluded to.

Contemporaries say Busoni could make a piano sound like an organ one moment and a light-toned harpsichord the next. McLachlan aims instead for consistency and integrity – qualities also noted in his Prokofiev cycle for Olympia. But the sound – mothballed, claustrophobic, closely miked – is so offputting that there’s little point in detailing the merits of the performances. This is a pity, because McLachlan rises to moments of eloquence. He manages to pull a real musical experience out of that daunting, half-hour Bachian fugal summa, the Fantasia contrappuntistica.

His Sixth Sonatina – the first bar overlaps with a half-second of applause, annoyingly enough – is the most detailed and sensitive rendition I’ve heard of this strange Bizet pot-pourri, McLachlan orienting himself to Bizet’s ‘fate’ motive and Carmen’s more tragic aspect rather than the strutting bravado of the Toreador music.