To whichever composer Marc-André Hamelin turns his (amazing) hand(s), he reinvents himself, chameleon-like, to convince you that he is the authoritative voice of that composer, be he the very different Haydn, Feinberg, CPE Bach or Bolcom. He has an innate affinity with late 19th- and early 20th-century French music, and here he investigates the ‘subtly evanescent harmony’ of Gabriel Fauré.

To an unexpected degree, the pianist needs two entirely independent hands for this music, and hearing Hamelin play Fauré is like observing the workings of a luxury-brand wristwatch with its many interdependent and intricately connected parts working in perfect harmony to produce the movement you see on the clockface. I don’t mean by that analogy that Hamelin is all unruffled perfection and too cool by half (which he can be), for there are many passages in which he displays deep and heartfelt passion (try Nocturne No 12 or Barcarolle No 5). And listen to his voicing of the stormy central (allegro) section of Nocturne No 5, where he somehow manages to make both hands equally significant while allowing the (leading) bass melody just that bit of extra significance. This is refined pianism of a high order.

The Barcarolles are similarly a significant link between Chopin and Mendelssohn, Debussy and Ravel. The gorgeous No 1 in A minor is the most immediately appealing of the 13 (Saint-Saëns gave the premiere in 1882 and Fauré himself made a piano roll of it), while there are definite hints of Impressionist harmony towards the end of No 8. Throughout we are offered a masterclass of touch, pedalling, phrasing and attention to detail.

However, much-lauded though Fauré’s piano music may be, having listened to all 13 Nocturnes and 13 Barcarolles several times, when playing back any track blind, with few exceptions I was unable to recall if I was listening to a Nocturne or a Barcarolle, let alone which one. Ernest Hutcheson’s view of Fauré in his indispensable The Literature of the Piano seems to coincide with mine: ‘If any criticism can be urged, it would be that of a lack of force in his ideas. If you play too many of the barcarolles and nocturnes, one will in the end come to sound much like another.’ Many are surprisingly gloomy. Some of them, I suspect, are more rewarding for the pianist to play than the listener to hear.

As far as I can see, there has only been one previous two-disc release of the complete Nocturnes and Barcarolles, and that was by Stéphane Lemelin (a fellow countryman of Hamelin as it happens) in 2013 for ATMA Classique. Hamelin’s USP is the addition of the complete Dolly suite (15'25"), meaning that both Hyperion discs play for more than 80 minutes (163'40" is the total duration). Rather than offer (as he might have done) Cortot’s arrangement for solo piano, he is joined by his wife Cathy Fuller in the original duet version.

No ‘lack of force in his ideas’ here – and a picture of domestic bliss in both conception and execution: fresh, spontaneous and altogether superbe.