Patience can be a virtue. When I reviewed Rosemary Tuck’s version of Czerny’s A minor Piano Concerto, Op 214, last June my conclusion was ‘save your money and wait’. And here it is, the 71st volume in Hyperion’s Romantic Piano Concerto series and every bit as fine as I’d hoped. Howard Shelley and the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra are, by now, firm friends, and it’s thanks to his intimacy with every note of the orchestral score, as well as that of the piano part, that makes these readings so rewarding.

Two of the works are recording premieres, and the F major Piano Concerto, Op 28, gets the best possible airing. But there’s a mystery here as it has recently come to light that this music is identical to the Third Guitar Concerto of Mauro Giuliani. Which came first? Who knows, though if Czerny transcribed the guitar concerto it would explain why his later A minor Concerto was published as ‘No 1’. Whoever wrote it, there are deft touches of orchestration in the opening tutti – be they a timpani line or a solo oboe phrase – and these are duly enjoyed; when the piano finally arrives it bounces in with great effervescence. The sheer energy and fecundity of ideas are irresistible. The slow movement of the F major, whose theme begins disconcertingly like the opening of Mozart’s A major Piano Sonata, K331, is aptly poised, while there’s a palpable sense of fun in the finale, a romp with just enough moments of introspection not to appear vapid.

The A minor Concerto (which certainly is by Czerny), somewhat stolid in Tuck’s hands, is much more compelling here. This is in part because Shelley takes the finale at a significantly faster pace, dispatching its filigree with élan, even if the top end of the piano is a touch dry-sounding. But he’s also simply more imaginative, beautifully shaping Czerny’s moments of Chopinesque fantasy (for example 12 minutes into the first movement).

The Rondo brillant is another first on record and if you don’t exactly come away humming the tunes, Shelley & co do at least keep you absorbed over its 15 minute length – even through the overblown build-up to the final bars. A fascinating booklet by Jeremy Nicholas completes a fine addition to this series.